Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project

by Douglas, Daniel P.

  “Unit Zero, you have roll clearance,” Ritter said into the radio’s microphone. “Gemini Control is en route for rendezvous at Checkpoint Alpha.”

  Ritter, representing Gemini Control, climbed into the Humvee and drove across the runway, then headed north to his initial destination, Checkpoint Alpha, at the end of the airfield. While the Humvee traversed the wide and flat taxiways and service roads, Ritter caught an occasional glimpse in the rearview mirror of Unit Zero. Since he could not actually see the reconstructed Roswell crash vehicle it towed, he visualized the craft’s shape beneath the billowy gray tarp covering it.

  Envisioning the craft occurred with no difficulty for Ritter. He had observed it before at Area 51 and in the North Range hangar. Even touched it once. The fleeting flight maneuvers he had witnessed it perform were less than satisfactory from an air force perspective, but in his mind, the ship stood out as one the most remarkable flying machines he had ever seen. And not a single sound or puff of smoke from it. His fingertips had never caressed anything so delicate, yet so undeniably sturdy.

  Ritter let himself feel emotion, awe even, about the remarkable craft without any embarrassment or awkward need to deny something that was—without any doubt—very real. He blinked against the chilly wind that blew through the open window and peeled teary drops away from his face. His full, resolute heart pounded against his chest. Pride embraced him, a rare feeling for him. But at that moment, Ritter had nothing less than a truly unique responsibility.

  Take this flying saucer and prepare it for flight.

  At the next step in fulfilling this responsibility, Ritter approached Checkpoint Alpha at the northwest corner of the airfield and then stopped the Humvee next to the guard shack located there. Two sentries saluted him.

  Ritter saluted back, saying, “You know the routine. You are relieved.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guards said in unison.

  “Step into the shack, close the doors, and close the blinds. Smoke them if you’ve got them. And release the gate.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guards said, scurrying into the shack. As soon as they entered it, the gate’s locks clicked open, and an electric motor slid the chain-link and barbed wire fence open.

  “Gemini Control to Unit Zero, clear for embarkation,” Ritter said into the radio microphone.

  Less than half a mile to the south, Unit Zero continued its steady progress toward the checkpoint. Ritter looked at the guard shack, shaking his head, trying to guess what the two sentries thought of this exercise. He decided that if they had not already figured it out, they probably would soon.

  Cutting through the quiet stillness, the chugging motor of the tow vehicle announced its approach and drew Ritter’s attention toward its driver. Only one person in the entire air force held authorization to perform the task of towing the Roswell craft. He was a chief master sergeant from Chicago, Illinois. Ritter spotted the familiar figure behind the wheel of Unit Zero. Moving his cargo through the open gate, the man did not return Ritter’s visual acknowledgment, but the colonel’s radio crackled with a transmission.

  “Unit Zero to Gemini Control, commencing with embarkation.”

  Ritter acknowledged the transmission and gazed at the disc riding past him. Under the starlight, a portion of the craft’s silvery, smooth surface, mostly covered by the billowy gray tarp, emerged and basked in a moment of ephemeral autonomy. Its moderate dimensions—forty feet wide by twenty-five feet high—and minimal exterior features belied the vehicle’s unprecedented capabilities. While Saint Mary’s test pilots had not succeeded in flying it very far due to its damaged power cell, Ritter had witnessed the ship perform rapid accelerations and ninety-degree turns considered impossible for modern aircraft.

  Ritter thought he heard the momentary rustling of the guard shack’s metal blinds. He chose not to turn around and look. Instead, he watched the craft as the tow vehicle continued along the service road leading to a remote test pad several miles from the main field. Once it arrived there, Ritter would secure the ship in an auxiliary hangar and instruct the ground crew to initiate the lengthy preflight checklist.

  After he was certain the craft had traveled a sufficient distance away from the guard shack, Ritter walked over and tapped on its door. The sentries scrambled out and stood at attention.

  “Resume your post,” Ritter said.

  The simultaneous “yes, sir” harmonized and resonated in Ritter’s ears. He smiled and shook his head, and then returned to the Humvee. Without any further delay, he drove after the flying saucer from another world.

  <> <>

  Janice assumed the sky held onto its darkness when the air policemen escorted her from her quarters to one of the elevators in North Range’s main laboratory. Dr. Schmidt had awakened her unexpectedly at 5:00 a.m. An hour later, the sun might have been up, but it made no difference to Janice. She remained underground and headed even deeper beneath the surface.

  One of the air policemen addressed her. “Ma’am, after you enter the elevator, swipe your card through the reader and select level ten.”

  The guard’s voice startled Janice. Her consciousness remained groggy from the early awakening out of a very deep sleep. “Level ten. I see, thank you.”

  “Once you reach level ten, exit and follow the main hallway until you reach a door. It is really more like a hatchway, like on a ship. Your card will permit entry.”

  “And once through the hatch?”

  Both air policemen jerked upright and looked at each other, confused. In unison, they looked back at Janice. Confusion retained its hold on their faces.

  “Oh, I see. You don’t know.”

  “We aren’t authorized to enter that area, ma’am.”

  Janice stepped into the elevator, swiped her card, and then pushed the button for level ten. “Don’t worry, I’ll find it.” Then, from between the rapidly closing doors, Janice waved and said, “Have a good day!”

  Out of habit, Janice stepped toward the back of the elevator. She rested her hands on a cool metal railing that ran along the blue walls of the car. Schmidt had seemed perturbed that the military executives had provided Janice access to aliens “Thirty-Nine” and “Forty.” Perhaps they had considered it necessary due to the upcoming operation, as well as due to the loss of Thirty-Seven at the hands of James Evans and the subsequent—and inexplicable—expiration of Thirty-Eight. The two specimens Janice was on her way to visit were all that remained in Saint Mary’s inventory.

  The quick descent ended and the doors slid open. After stepping out of the elevator, Janice found herself in a hallway that looked like a white tube. The white walls arched upward from a white marble floor and intersected with a continuous row of fluorescent lights that ran the length of the corridor, which terminated at a gray, metal hatch.

  She walked toward the hatch. Her black sneakers squeaked intermittently on the slick floor. Nearing the hatch, Janice saw an empty office to her left behind a small counter and sliding windowpane. Not seeing anyone, she ran her badge through the sensor next to the hatch. A hiss and the faint hum of an electric motor followed. Slowly, the hatch opened and then Janice stepped through.

  Masking tape pinned plastic tarps along the base of partly painted walls in a short hallway that led to a partitioned glass door. Beyond it stood a small room with another set of glass doors opposite the entrance. Janice could not see beyond the other glass doors, which were darkly tinted. The smell fresh paint and dusty whiffs of sanded spackle met her nostrils. Ahead of her, one of the glass doors slid open.

  “Please step inside, Ms. Evans,” a pleasant, female voice said.

  Janice looked around and spotted a surveillance camera overhead next to a speaker.

  “Once inside, the hatch and outer door will close. Only then will you be able to enter the enclosure.”

  “Thank you,” Janice said, and then she passed through the open door. Behind her, the hatch closed and the glass door slid shut, the sound of bolts locking metal into place following their mo
vements.

  “You may now enter the enclosure,” Ms. Evans. “Until your eyes adjust, please move slowly as the lighting is kept at a low level.”

  Janice nodded and thanked a wall-mounted speaker and then stepped inside the enclosure.

  Despite the low light, Janice actually saw her surroundings quite well. One of the benefits of hybridization included increased sensory capabilities, such as enhanced night vision. In the low light, much of what she saw registered as various shades of gray. From what she could tell, the enclosure was a large circular room. It was so large that its edges faded from gray to black, beyond her ability to discern details.

  To her right about sixty feet away, Janice saw what appeared to be a block of rooms, each with a hatch and large windowpane. She made her way through the emptiness and arrived at the first window. The room beyond it automatically illuminated. Janice looked inside. It was empty, except for what looked like a child’s desk and chair. The rear wall of the room also had a hatch. A bed, no more than four feet long and only six inches off the ground, sat opposite the desk.

  Janice pressed on and paused in front of the next windowpane. As the room automatically illuminated, Janice gasped and stumbled backward. Standing directly behind the glass pane, and looking out at her, stood Thirty-Nine and Forty.

  Janice caught her breath and regained her footing. Other than tilting their heads side to side, Thirty-Nine and Forty stood perfectly still, and were much taller than Janice expected. They had narrow, long limbs, as well as large eyes and heads, but were easily over five feet tall. Silver jump suits covered most of their gray skin, and a collar around each of their thin necks held labels with their respective Saint Mary numerical designations: 39 and 40.

  Janice stepped forward and said, “I am pleased to meet you. My name is Janice.”

  Both ceased their head tilting and froze. They stared at Janice, and she looked back, her eyes locking onto Forty’s, who slowly leaned toward the glass. She felt the quick mental connection occur, and then sensed Forty’s thoughts.

  Can you hear me, Janice?

  Yes, I mean you no harm. I am not like the others.

  We know this. We can sense this about you. You are human but you are also constructed with our chemistry.

  True, but I am not like them in the sense that I feel it is wrong for us to keep you here.

  Are there others who feel this way too? Sometimes we sense pity from others but mostly we sense fear. We can detect emotion, and understand how it interacts with reason. In humans, these energies often compete. Our emotional energy is much less and we are very like-minded. But humans are not. Their feelings and thoughts are not synchronized with each other.

  So, you have studied our planet and us?

  Images took shape in Janice’s mind, and she saw Thirty-Nine and Forty standing next to her. As her vision widened, she saw a dirt path leading through a desert. High, rocky mountains rose above the distant horizon. The landscape seemed bright, as if the mid-day sun hung above them, but blackness and bright stars filled the sky overhead.

  We study, and do more. Janice, your world and all of its life is in danger.

  Danger? From what?

  They walked together a few steps along the path. A bright flash dissolved the desert scene. The sparkling sky now burned red and ashes, charred bones, and demolished buildings littered their surroundings.

  At first, Janice thought she saw other human figures, but as she gazed further at the remnants of city walls, buildings, and street corners, the figures were merely the silent shadows of former lives disintegrated by a powerful blast of light and energy.

  Yourselves.

  Janice gazed at the scene and watched it fade into darkness. The images ceased, and emptiness and the sound of rapid clicking enveloped her.

  What is that noise?

  Forty’s large eyes and head emerged out of the deep haze in Janice’s mind, and stared at her just inches from her face.

  Perhaps a message? We thought you might know. This comes from the ones you call the ‘fifth species.’ There is little I can tell you about this. We know about them, but understand little. They seem interested in Earth, but we do not know why.

  Where do they come from?

  That is not something we yet know. What we do know is that the question is not where, but when? We believe their origins are from the future, but we do not know where they come from. They do not communicate with us. They also seem to evade us. They seem isolated and self-interested. They seem to interpret us as hostile and when we encounter them, in some instances, they have taken our ships out of this realm and into theirs. We have also sensed high emotional energy from them, especially fear, pride, anger, distrust, envy, and ambition. These qualities always lead to destruction, and your species in particular has them in abundance. We seek to help you evolve beyond these negative energies. Your survival depends upon it, and we cannot let you advance into space and spread these destructive viruses. This will upset the balance, but the choice is up to you. How will you do this?

  Snapshots flickered through Janice’s mind: Warships at sea, an ICBM standing in its silo, an invading army behind rows of tanks, the Pentagon… The images flashed in succession, and she quickly analyzed each one as if taking a test and selecting from a multiple-choice list of possibilities.

  None of them seemed correct.

  A pastor pontificating, traders on the floor of the stock market, germs in a Petrie dish…

  No, this isn’t right.

  She searched for a sincere answer to Forty’s question…

  The images ceased, and melted into one. A face emerged and Janice’s heart soared.

  William Harrison. He is the answer.

  Why?

  He is the key, but he also believes.

  In what?

  In those things that many mock. Truth, justice, freedom.

  Are these not just self-interested outcomes?

  No! And that is where many fail to understand. It takes cooperation, balance, and respect to achieve them. Bill understands and treasures this. Others do as well.

  Then they are the truly special ones among you. They are your future. They are your hope. Without him and these others, you are hopeless.

  Janice blinked her eyes as the connection with Forty faded. Her reflection in the windowpane stood between Thirty-Nine and Forty as they looked out at her.

  I know.

  Chapter 50

  Erase Our Mistakes

  Inside his office, General Randolph Stone enjoyed a cup of coffee and checked the time. Twelve hours to go.

  He returned his attention to the computer in front of him, pulling up status reports on the arriving support teams. For the first time in over a week, he relaxed some. Aside from wrapping up what he believed were the security situation’s loose ends, no glitches appeared in the upcoming ELF operation. He credited this to his leadership skills, reassuring himself that those qualities would see the mission through to a successful conclusion.

  Following a quick knock on the door, Colonel Bennet entered the office and said, “The latest media indications continue to be favorable, sir.”

  “Good, good,” Stone said, still looking at his computer screen.

  “There is one other item. It came across channels about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Yawning, Stone said, “Yes, what is it?”

  “Information only at this point, but we just received word that the Eighth Army has gone on heightened alert.”

  “Korea?”

  “Yes, sir, due to the continued Chinese incursions into Taiwan’s—”

  “What about North Korea?” Stone said. The army had stationed his only son, an infantry captain, in Seoul.

  “Thus far, there have been no further reports of any troop movements on the border. But higher command is not taking chances. As you know, both China and North Korea view certain territories as belonging to them.”

  “Yes, yes, and stateside?”

  “Deployment-ready alert f
or Fort Bragg. Scuttlebutt is that elements of the Eighty-Second Airborne Division will go to Taiwan as a show of force. In any case, final arrangements are still pending. However, we should expect additional alerts to go into effect soon if this gets further out of hand—”

  Stone waved him off. “Thank you, Colonel. I’ll advise the chairman.”

  As Bennet departed, Stone glanced once more at the computer and then, in haste, switched it off. He grabbed his hat, exited the office, and headed for the bio-research labs in the adjacent building. Before contacting the chairman, he wanted to check on Dr. Schmidt’s status, hoping she would have some good news. Outside, the arrival of cargo planes carrying support teams from Nellis, Wright-Patterson, and Dreamland crowded the tarmac.

  In an effort to ignore the possibility of an international-relations glitch in his operation, Stone found another reason for confidence: perfect weather conditions. Clear skies stretched toward the horizon, uninterrupted in every manner. Neither a single wisp of cirrus nor a swelling patch of cumulus menaced the vigorous activity under way.

  Continuing toward his destination, Stone acknowledged the salutes of junior officers and enlisted personnel while hurrying past them. When he entered the lobby of the research facility, he hesitated, realizing he had not yet memorized where Dr. Schmidt’s new medical laboratory occupied space. A brief glance around reminded him the elevator directly ahead would transport him to the floors below ground. He would find his way from there.

  During the descent to the bottom floor, Stone considered the situation regarding Harrison and Taylor again and wondered if he could implement any further steps to apprehend them. His firm belief was that any evidence they retained was scant at best, and could be explained away or denied.

  But Stone sought more than just the remnants of Harrison’s investigation. He wanted Taylor. As he saw it, fulfilling the Protocol One on that particular subject stood out as his primary duty, and he never failed to carry out his duties. Stone felt he had arrived at an impasse, however, and he could do nothing more except wait and hope that Harrison and Taylor committed a mistake.