“They sure like to keep tabs on us,” Janice said.
Moresby smiled and patted the hand holding his.
They boarded the van with some assistance from their escorts, who then climbed in behind them. The driver maneuvered the van along a service road and then onto a taxiway. Runway lights, the ambient glow from exterior service areas, and a rotating navigational beacon positioned on a nearby hill punctuated the darkness inside the van. Low, thick clouds obscured the night sky’s celestial panorama.
“When we get there,” Moresby said, “you will notice the presence of several high-ranking military officers. Ignore them. They are mere observers. Just follow the routine as we have practiced and everything will be fine. Okay?”
Janice nodded.
North Range’s main complex receded into the night as they crossed the runway and headed toward a ridgeline that ran along the northeast boundary of the airfield. Approaching a checkpoint at a chain-link and barbed-wire fence, the van slowed, but guards at the checkpoint waved them through the gate without delay.
The vehicle’s headlights soon revealed a smooth, concrete facade embedded in a rocky mound. They had arrived at the security bunker, and another van with an imposing antenna mounted on its roof sat parked next to its entrance. The large antenna, as big as the vehicle that carried it, looked like a massive crossbow lying on its side.
“Is that it?” Janice said, leaning toward the window.
Moresby easily recognized the psychotronic generator. Built in Bulgaria and rumored to have once been employed against Boris Yeltsin to excite his bad heart, soon, Saint Mary would employ it against aliens. “That’s it.”
The driver stopped the van at the bunker’s entrance, and the passengers disembarked. Janice and the air policemen headed for the warmth of the bunker while Moresby walked to the generator and briefly surveyed its condition.
Power cords, electrical lines, and a coaxial cable wound together outside the rear door of the van and into a round conduit that poked into the ground. An icy breeze blew against the tarp erected over this portion of the van to protect the cabling from inclement weather. The motion caught Moresby’s attention, making him doubt the equipment’s effectiveness.
“Is the power up?” Moresby said to a technician inside the van.
“Online and ready to go,” the technician said.
“Why don’t we go inside, Francis? It’s chilly out here,” Janice said, shouting from the bunker’s entrance.
Moresby tugged at his coat. “You are right, my dear.” He shuffled toward Janice, saying, “Let’s get on with it.”
The bunker’s heavy metal doors slid closed once the professor stepped inside. A single overhead light shined down on the anteroom’s walls and riveted seams. One of the guards spoke into an intercom and requested access. A moment later, latches released on the door that led to the interior of the bunker.
The group stepped through the doorway and found themselves in a junction of staircases and hallways. The guards accompanied Janice and Moresby down one of the staircases. After descending two levels, they entered a room lined with a row of several well-padded reclining chairs along one wall and a communications console in the center. On the wall opposite the chairs, a series of luminescent maps displayed various sections of the North Range facility. As Moresby had mentioned, several officers sat in the chairs, and a single nervous technician sat at the communications console. The guards remained outside the room and closed the door.
Colonel Bennet, looking apprehensive, rose and approached Moresby. Before he reached them, the professor directed Janice to the technician, who assisted her with attaching electrodes that would carry her messages to the psychotronic generator.
“Professor?” Colonel Bennet said, fidgeting for attention.
“Yes?” Moresby said, still watching Janice and the technician.
Bennet leaned close and said, whispering, “They’re not too impressed with that thing you have upstairs. Are you sure this is going to work?”
Moresby struggled to compose an answer while he watched Janice. She sat comfortably now behind the console, facing the small audience of working-group officers. The illuminated maps gave off a warm glow, softening signs of fatigue on her face.
“You know, Colonel,” Moresby said, “it will work.” Then, more to himself, he said, “Do we really want it to?”
Bennet darted his bicolored eyes toward the others. No one else had apparently heard Moresby’s comment. He gave the professor a stern look before slinking back to his chair.
Moresby walked over next to Janice and pushed a button on a control panel adjacent to her chair. They smiled one last time at each other before Janice relaxed and closed her eyes. Moresby nodded at General Lanham, who stepped forward and stood next to the communications console. Lanham put on a headset and pushed a few buttons, and then the lights dimmed.
Looking at the officers seated along the wall, Lanham said, “Tonight’s exercise is fairly straightforward. The terminal here will display the preprogrammed communication sequence and the corresponding symbols. We can see them; the hybrid cannot, and neither can General Stone or our remaining colleagues in the command building. Our role is simple. Just note the symbols and number them on your rosters as they appear on the monitor. If all goes well, the other group’s rosters should match ours at the end of the test. The hybrid has memorized each sequence, so there will be no delay in the contact once the encounter begins. For purposes of the demonstration tonight, the sequence will be a sampling of our basic vocabulary. Any questions?”
The officers shook their heads.
Lanham keyed the headset, “Command center, proctor is green for test. Shall we proceed?”
<> <>
Inside the command center’s operations center, Colonel Ritter wore a headset and heard Lanham’s transmission. He nodded at General Stone, who sat a conference table with Admiral Horner, the chairman, and three other high-ranking officers. They reclined in their chairs, appearing relaxed.
Stone understood his subordinate’s expression and said, “Proceed.”
Ritter nodded and said, “Proctor, command is green. You are clear to initiate test alpha.”
<> <>
Lanham queued his microphone and said, “Test alpha initiated in five, four, three…”
Janice calmed her breathing.
In, out. In. Out…
She made what felt like a fluid, natural connection with the generator. Its transmission of her thoughts could commence. The survey sequence’s first image stood for Earth, and it consisted of a short horizontal line with three diagonal slashes through it. A larger circle surrounded the horizontal line. In dreamy impressions, Janice felt the symbols flow away from her mind through the generator and somehow knew when the receivers read and understood the message.
Other symbols representing peace, union, ship, and friendship drifted from her rational mind into the stream of electromagnetic energy, connecting her with the working-group members on the other side of the airfield. Although the symbols looked crisp and clear, her surroundings blurred. She saw only lines, circles, and arcs, and felt acceptance. Her physical presence receded, oscillating between billowy warmth and a vast, disembodied nothingness. Then she felt complete freedom.
The fertile hues of Earth looked up at her while the moon hung overhead. Glittery, colorful heavens sparkled down on her. No loneliness inhabited this space, and she felt others surround her.
Countless others.
Ancient travelers beckoned her to Mars. To Cydonia. There, she kicked up dust with them as they spoke of once-great civilizations. Their voices, frightened, forsaken, and distant now, asked her to follow them. Curiosity and freedom stimulated, she wanted to follow, but another sensation tugged her back toward Earth, to home.
Their distant voices tried to warn her, but they and Janice had traveled too far in separate directions for her to understand the message.
In, out.
Her eyes opened, fluttering.
The empty room surrounded Janice, and Moresby sat next to her. He leaned forward, head in hands. Stirring, the professor looked at her, eyes gleaming.
“Welcome back, Janice.”
“How…how long?”
“Two hours. The working group was very pleased. You’ve been in some sort of trance since the end of the test. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“But the test just started.”
“Hmm, apparently you have some missing time. There are obviously aspects of this procedure that require further study.”
“So, the test went well?”
“Oh my, yes. Of course, some of the receivers are complaining of headaches and nausea.” Moresby paused and looked around the room. “But if you ask me, I wish you would have given them all migraines and then made them puke on each other.”
Janice reached out and clasped the professor’s arm, saying, “Francis, there is no end to your brilliance.”
<> <>
A guard opened the door to the command building’s briefing room, and Moresby entered. The chairman waved him over to a seat next to him at the conference table.
“Well done, Professor,” the chairman said as Moresby sat down next to him. “The Circle will be very pleased.”
“I’m glad it went well, Dennis. How’s your head?”
“Huh? Oh, it’s fine. Given the test’s success, I can’t really complain.” Then, whispering, he said, “I think it made Admiral Horner a little seasick.”
The professor looked at the naval officer with the yellow-green complexion sitting across the table. He held a nearly empty bottle of Pepto-Bismol.
“The side effects were unexpected. The demonstration was a bit more intense than I anticipated,” Moresby said.
“No matter,” the chairman said. He called for everyone’s attention, and the working group’s groggy members turned to listen. “Could someone turn up the television? I would like to catch up on the news.”
General Stone reached for the remote and pushed the volume button. He settled back into his chair and checked his watch. It indicated 9:00 p.m. local time.
“From the CNN center in Atlanta, good evening,” the news anchor said. “China and Taiwan continue to aggressively accuse each other of increasing the tensions between…”
As the newscast continued, the chairman, Stone, and the other working-group members listened closely. Moresby leaned back and relaxed. One way or another, things would end soon. He just wanted it to end.
The news anchor continued. “Earlier today, the President issued a warning to China’s leaders to cease and desist in their aggressive war games near Taiwan, stating the United States will make a stand against aggression and tyranny wherever it raises its head. He also sent a special New Year’s message on the armed forces radio network expressing the gratitude of the nation for the continued diligence and never-ending hard work of United States military at home and overseas. In other news, retailers reported preliminary holiday sales figures. With today’s business report, here is…”
Stone turned down the volume.
“Thank you, General,” the chairman said. “I think we can agree that our situation is much improved. I’d like to hear your recommendations.”
“From an operational standpoint, we are ready to go ahead,” General Lanham said. “We can go online with NORAD according to schedule and have a bird in hand by late tomorrow. Both the psychotronic generator and ELF transmitters are ready. I recommend we proceed with the plan.”
“Have the med crews and recovery teams arrived yet?” Admiral Horner said through a handkerchief covering his mouth.
“They start arriving tomorrow morning, first thing,” Stone said. “Of course, if you need some assistance now, Admiral, we do have some medics who can take care of you.”
Everyone laughed except the queasy naval officer and Moresby.
Stone winked at the admiral and then thumbed through a file in front of him, saying, “Let me also update you on our investigation into the security matter. We are still searching for Harrison, Taylor, and the forensics specialist, Margaret O’Donnell. Follow-up interrogations of Holcomb are continuing, but there has been nothing discovered that would contradict the information we acquired through the hybrid. Colonel Ritter’s seizure of the evidence, however, does seem to undermine whatever steps Taylor planned to take. He will be hard pressed to prove anything to anybody.”
“I think,” the chairman said, smiling, “we can invite the Circle to join us. Don’t you?” The others nodded their approval. “Then I will contact them. The operation will commence tomorrow, at 2100 hours. We can expect the Circle to arrive shortly after dinner.”
Without hesitation, the admiral rose and weaved his way out of the room. Others, including Stone, followed him. The chairman took out a pen and made some notations on a legal pad. Moresby closed his eyes.
“Francis? Are you asleep?”
“No, no, Dennis, just thinking about things.”
“Well, good. That’s your job, after all. Speaking of which, we need something else.”
Moresby opened his eyes and rested his folded arms on the table. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it myself.” He noticed the chairman had raised his eyebrows and pursed his narrow lips. “You need to test Janice further with one of our special guests.”
“Yes. Our two remaining live specimens were brought in yesterday. They are housed together in one of the enclosures below the main lab. She needs to converse with both of them, test their comprehension, and see what they know—”
“About the fifth species. Yes, I see. Dennis, why do you think Janice will have any more luck than any of our technicians in that regard?”
The chairman chuckled and shook his head. “Francis, where is your scientific curiosity? Besides, she is one of them, well, at least in part. Maybe she can reach them where normal humans haven’t.”
“Normal humans? Janice is not abnormal.” Moresby’s fists tightened their grip on his arms. “But, this is not the time or place for that discussion. I’ll make the arrangements with Janice and Dr. Schmidt.”
“As soon as possible, please. Any advantage we can gain in our upcoming operation will be most helpful.” The chairman glanced at his legal pad and circled an item on the first page. “By the way, is there any message you’d like me to give to the Circle? I will speak to them soon.”
Moresby opened his eyes, wanting to leave. “Oh, nothing really,” he said, standing up. “Why don’t you just wish them happy New Year for me?”
I pray that we will still have many more to come.
<> <>
“Where is Taylor?”
To Holcomb, it seemed like the interrogator had asked him this question nearly a thousand times. Through red, swollen eyes, he looked up at the well-tanned man in black hovering over him. Handcuffed to the chair in which he sat, Holcomb wished he could stand up and strangle the son of a bitch.
“Where is Taylor?”
“Dude, are you fucking deaf? We’ve been over this before,” Holcomb said, his voice hoarse.
“And we'll continue until you tell me the truth.”
The blackness shifted behind Holcomb and leaned toward him, whispering, “You know, Maggie has already been executed.”
“I don’t know who you are talking about.”
A sharp blow to the back of his head knocked the bloody grin from Holcomb’s lips.
“Where’s Taylor?”
Holcomb’s head palpitated in dull, agonizing throbs from earlier jabs, slaps, and punches. “Has anyone ever told you that between your big nose and dark clothes you look like a fucking crow?”
The interrogator grabbed the back of Holcomb’s neck. “Where are you keeping the skull?”
“What skull?” Holcomb said, trying to twist his head free. He failed, but the man released him anyway.
The interrogator wandered around the room, fingers rubbing his clean-shaven chin. An insistent tapping against the one-way mirror drew him out of the
cell.
Holcomb sighed and closed his eyes.
Why is Taylor going to Russia? Why did Janice tell me he was going to Russia? That was not the plan.
The cell door opened and closed. The man in black returned, cradling a small, shiny object in his hand.
A sudden wave of nausea overcame Holcomb, a common reaction whenever he saw this type of device. Since childhood, he had never succeeded in preventing the sickening feeling he felt just looking at one.
The interrogator moved closer, pressing one hand against the left side of Holcomb’s neck and head.
“Don’t move,” the black crow said. With a precise, quick stab, he plunged the syringe into Holcomb’s upper left arm. The liquid flowed through the needle and then seamlessly into Holcomb’s bloodstream.
Chapter 49
Unit Zero, Thirty-Nine, and Forty
At the base of North Range’s air-traffic control tower, located directly across the runway from the command building, Colonel Ritter excused his driver. Once the sleepy enlisted man stepped inside the tower complex, the colonel dialed in the appropriate frequency on the Humvee’s radio and brought the microphone up to his mouth. Through cold puffs of condensed air, he said, “All stations, transport signal is confirmed. Area blackout now authorized.”
The exterior lights of buildings scattered around the runway switched off in a drifting pattern. The dark sky had relinquished itself of the earlier gray cloud cover, and a twinkling swath of diamonds revealed their vast numbers with crystalline clarity.
In the predawn hour, Ritter found the brisk air refreshing, complementing the renewed energy from the coffee he had finished drinking inside the tower a short time ago. To his left, at the south end of the field, he saw the doors of the huge hangar located there creep open. Headlights from a tow vehicle, known as Unit Zero, inside the hangar sent a hollow stream outward, which the thick blackness surrounding the isolated location easily swallowed.
Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project Page 36