Resurrection

by Jeffrey Burger

  Mercedes folded her arms defiantly, “And I’m supposed to believe that somehow that would bother you?”

  “Of course it would,” insisted Brooker, I have no desire to see a bloody turf war. It’s not good for anybody but the crematorium. But I can protect you…” His eyes shifted around and back to her, “Protection you’re not going to get here.” He leaned in close, “I don’t care about Waldron Topps or his family, but the Sheriff does. Because the Sheriff is on his payroll, and so are some of the deputies… maybe some of the very deputies working security here…”

  Involuntarily, Mercedes glanced around at the security staff scattered around the casino.

  “Not as protective of you as they were the first night I was here, are they?” whispered Brooker. “Which ones do you think you can trust...?”

  “That’s enough,” hissed Chase, moving closer to the Inspector, his bulk and stature substantially larger, imposing. “I really think it’s time for you to go.”

  Brooker locked eyes with him, “Don’t you get it? I’m the only one here you can trust. Come back to Amanpoor with me, where I can protect you.”

  “Aaaannd, there it is,” pointed Mercedes, glancing at Chase. “His whole game. I knew that’s where he was going,” she waved in disgust. “Pack your circus up and get out of my casino, Brooker.”

  “You’re going to regret this…”

  Mercedes smirked evilly, “What I regret is not letting you bleed to death on the sidewalk out there. You know where the door is,” she pointed, “this conversation is over.” She grabbed Chase by the hand and steered him away from Brooker, heading to the back of the casino. “Training and cultural purposes my ass…” she hissed, “he finagled this whole thing so he could stick around here and fuck with us…”

  “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you…” It wasn’t so much as a question as a realization.

  “If he throws us under the bus with Big Daddy Topps? Yeah. And I’ll enjoy it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RAVEN ROCK MOUNTAIN / SITE R - FAIRFIELD, PENNSYLVANIA

  The six-mile train ride through the tunnel between Camp David and the Raven Rock Mountain Complex, often referred to as Site R, took an entire ten minutes. Not that ten minutes was an exceptionally long time, but it wasn’t like other underground rail systems or subways - there were no stops, poster ads, or finished tile walls to stare at… just bare rock walls. The President of the United States used the time to decompress and put his mind in neutral. The world had changed. Drastically. Overnight. And it was never going to be as it was, which pained him greatly. Though he was relatively certain it could be saved and recover, move forward, become more… The question was, more what? Dammit, his mind refused to cooperate with some much-needed silence.

  Even though considerable progress had been made, with and without the help of the aliens, there was so much more to do. But he just didn’t feel comfortable trusting the aliens. After all, wasn’t it aliens who were responsible for the terrible mess the planet found itself in? Of course, they did have a hand in saving it… Which posed an even greater question; who to trust?

  If there was an upside to the whole thing, it was that the ranks of the Deep State and the shadowy One World Order had been decimated; scores of arrests and raids breaking the back of the organized attempt to subvert humanity. Though eternal vigilance would be key to prevent it from ever happening again. For as many of the offending agents that were rounded up and apprehended, there was a lesser but significant number of equally dangerous operatives that seemed to disappear, hiding in humanity’s shadow. And currently with the world so divided, communications between countries was strained at best, making it difficult to push a unified effort and share intelligence information, even with the closest of allies. Which meant the covert agencies were as busy as they had ever been. And it was never more dangerous to be a spy on Earth. We live in dangerous times…

  “Mr. President, we’ve reached Raven Rock.”

  The President snapped out of his trance, blinking away the image of the rock wall to glance up at the Secret Service Agent, “Thank you,” he smiled politely.

  ■ ■ ■

  Stephen Miles stepped out of the Blackhawk helicopter onto the R1 helipad, halfway between the Site R Fire Station and the Defense Threat Reduction Agency building near the west entrance to Raven Rock’s underground bunker. A black SUV sat a hundred-feet away at the edge of Harbaugh Valley Rd. with the engine running, two men in dark suits standing alongside it, waiting for his arrival. Stephen ducked as he strode out from under the rotor-wash, meeting the man with the extended hand.

  “Director…”

  Stephen smiled as they shook hands, his voice registering surprise, “Agent Cummins!”

  “Glad to see they got you and your group out, sir…”

  “Thank you, Bob. Glad to be out.” He turned his attention to the other man, extending his hand, “Stephen Miles.”

  “Good to meet you, Director. Phil Cooper, FBI…”

  They shook hands, Stephen recognizing the man’s name, “Director of Operation Starlight, right?”

  “That’s right…”

  “Fascinating stuff, all these UFOs…”

  Phil Cooper nodded briefly as he turned his back against the rotor wash, the Blackhawk spinning up for takeoff. “It is…”

  “I understand you personally knew the Steele family?”

  “That’s right. Kyle Steele was good enough to help our agency during an investigation in Chicago. He and his canine partner were invaluable; came out during a snowstorm in the middle of the night…”

  Bob Cummins swung the back door of the armored SUV open, “Gentlemen, we don’t want to keep the President waiting…”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Gentlemen,” the President gestured from the head of the situation table, “please, sit.”

  Every branch of the United States military, every special military unit, every secret alphabet agency, and every government agency that dealt with technology, exploration, or space was well represented, in the standing-room-only, situation room.

  “I am sorry folks,” announced the President, “if we bought in chairs for everybody, no one would be able to move and we’re going to be using the computers and screens - otherwise we would have done this in the auditorium. But we’ll take breaks to give everyone a chance to relax. Thank you all for coming, I think we’re going to have a really productive meeting - covering a lot of very important topics…” He pointed at Stephen Miles, “I’d like to welcome Mr. Miles back to the surface after being buried, for what, about three weeks?”

  Stephen nodded.

  “Well,” continued the President, “we’re sure glad to have him back; including all those great people who were serving with him in the PEOC. Mr. Miles is our new CIA Director by the way, I’m sure he’s going to do a terrific job…”

  ■ ■ ■

  The first fifteen minutes had been, what could best be described, as a pep talk. Rah-rah America; American ingenuity, strength, know-how, determination, perseverance, exceptionalism, and superiority. But then again, maybe it needed to be said. Maybe everyone needed to be reminded. In any case, it was well received, the President was obviously preaching to the choir.

  Phil Cooper had wondered how many meetings like this were going on around the world in bunkers much like this one; Russia, China, Europe… The briefing was as much about national defense as it was about strategy, intelligence gathering, homeland security and areas of conflict around the world. And of course, the biggest concern, focused on getting the country back on its feet and self-sufficient again. To that end, many of the resources, aid and generosity the rest of the world was accustomed to getting from the United States, dwindled to a trickle. The faucet had been turned off as a matter of necessity.

  It was after the third break that Phil Cooper finally got a chance to sit at the table and his knees thanked him. Ten-minutes into that stage of the meeting the topic swung toward the aliens, the ships, the
UFW space station and a general distrust of motive or true intent.

  “Mr. Cooper,” began the President, “it is my understanding that you are the closest thing we have to an authority on our alien friends up there, that you have some kind of history with them?”

  “It’s not that simple Mr. President,” explained Cooper, “I knew the Steele family, who…”

  “Yes, I’ve read the Steele dossier, Mr. Cooper. It’s interesting reading. But what can you tell us about the aliens themselves? What is their interest in Earth? Tell me something that I can’t read in these reports,” he nudged a stack of files near his left hand. “We have seen their technology; it is impressive to say the least. Stunning capabilities…”

  “They’re a lot like us, Mr. President. In some respects, they have many of the same concerns, many of the same problems as we do. They’ve just been at it longer than we have…”

  The President’s forehead furrowed, “Yet they don’t seem to have tackled the most basic of issues, like crime…”

  Phil Cooper shrugged, “It seems to be a problem that spans the ages, and the cosmos.”

  “But they’ve solved an entire range of complex medical issues…” the President sounded dubious. “I find that hard to believe; how those things extend across alien and human physiology…”

  Cooper rolled his hands up in a casual surrender, “I can’t pretend to understand all the medical implications, sir. But as Mr. Steele explained it, we’re not all that different on a cellular level. And that we’re all physically very similar, despite the differences in our outward appearances. In fact, Jack Steele is actually married to an alien, and they now have a son…”

  Out of reflex, the President set his left hand atop the files, “Yes, I believe I read that. I’m just not sure it’s in our best interest to trust them…”

  “The Steeles?” asked Cooper, confused.

  “No, no. The aliens,” corrected the President. “I fail to see how, or what, we can offer them, and why they would be interested in a planet like ours. We have little to offer, little of value - specially to warrant such generosity and beneficence on their part. Unless I’m missing something, they would seem to be getting the short end of the deal. And as much as I like the art of the deal, when it sounds too good to be true, I get suspicious…”

  An Air Force General made a motion for attention from against the far wall, “Mr. President, isn’t the U.N. supposed to vote on the acceptance of the offer in a couple of weeks?”

  The President slammed his hand down on the table, “I am NOT waiting for the U.N. I am not entrusting the safety and welfare of this country, or this planet, to a bunch of filthy, degenerate, drug running, terrorist thugs, guilty of some of the most heinous human rights atrocities known to man. America and her people come first. If there’s a deal, it will be for, and in, the name of the American people. Her safety and security must come first…”

  A wave of low talk swept the room.

  “If there is an arrangement to be had, in any shape or form, it must be with the United States. With all her misgivings and imperfections, America is still the best choice to lead the free world and has the best chance at fostering a strong bond with our new friends.”

  “How…”

  “The Vice President and our Ambassador to the U.N. are preparing as we speak, to pay a visit to our alien friends… she can be very convincing.” His eyes shifted back to Phil Cooper, “They are headed up in the morning. There’s just one little problem…”

  “What’s that, Mr. President?”

  “I don’t trust the aliens. We don’t know them well enough…” He pointed at Phil Cooper, “You were up there, weren’t you…?”

  Phil pursed his lips, “Yes…”

  “We need someone up there, imbedded with them. Someone who knows the sciences who knows what’s going on.”

  “What about someone from NASA?”

  The President made a point of considering it for a moment, “Mmm, no. Too obvious. Someone they wouldn’t suspect, someone completely non-threatening. And they need to be ready to go in a week.”

  Phil’s eyes widened, “A week?! Hmmm…” He dropped his chin into his hand, thinking of all the people who had crowded the Conquest’s flight bay during the broadcasts. Some of them in the very room in which he currently sat. Military brass, political dignitaries, scientists, news crews, spies from nearly every agency… even Kyle and Lynette Steele came to mind - though he fully expected his friendship with them had come to an end. Hundreds of faces… Dan Murphy, Karen Davis, Dancing Rain… No. “I have it!” he snapped. “Perfect choice…”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  UFW REVENGE, CITRA 5 SYSTEM : UNEXPECTED VISITORS

  Stepping through the diagonally split hatchway, over what sailors commonly called knee-knockers, Lisa entered the darkened bridge, the only light provided by an unbroken field of stars on the screen that wrapped nearly two-thirds of the way around the room.

  None of it looked familiar. It was small, dark, and by comparison to the Revenge, now the Raven, relatively cramped. It wasn’t a ship Lisa Steele could remember ever being on, it was completely foreign.

  Walking slowly towards the screen, past the various empty stations, she stared at the stars, hoping to see something that could explain what was happening, where she was at, or what she was doing there. She touched the controls at the helm but the station remained dark and lifeless. It was curious that she felt neither fear nor anticipation. Like she was a simple observer. Unaffected. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser… She decided to simply let it play out and see what happens.

  “Lisa…”

  A familiar voice… but not heard with her ears, heard with her mind… with her heart…

  “Lisa…”

  Whirling, she spun on her heel, backing into the helm station. Her brother stood inside the bridge hatchway, leaning casually against the bulkhead, his arms folded across his chest. He was unshaven, coarsely bearded, his hair longer, somewhat unkempt. But the smile was the same, and it warmed her, filling her with a sense of well-being. A realization struck her, that she should not be able to see him so clearly on the darkened bridge… it was as if he produced his own light; un-shadowed, clear, almost like a hologram… “Are… are you dead?” she croaked, fearful trepidation in her voice.

  “I’m fine, Lisa…”

  ■ ■ ■

  Sitting bolt-upright, Lisa tossed off her bed linens and swung her feet to the floor, jumping up, slightly unsteady. “He’s alive!” she shouted happily, reassured. Gus gave her a sleepy frown from the bed.

  “Well of course he is, my dear.”

  Stumbling backwards, her legs met the bed and she toppled back onto the mattress, narrowly missing Gus who jumped out of the way lest he be squashed. He glared disapprovingly at her, standing on the pillows at the head of the bed. “Lights! Lights!” Room illumination snapped to one-hundred-percent, blinding her. “Ahh-geez! Twenty-five percent! Twenty-five percent!” she corrected, shielding her darkness-adjusted eyes.

  “Oh, I’ve startled you… I apologize, my dear. I assumed you were speaking to me…”

  Lisa squinted at the cloaked man sitting on the sofa, “Voorlak? Voorlak…” she repeated, recognition dawning on her. “What? Why would I… I had no idea you were here.”

  “Of course,” he nodded, “I forget you humans do not see well in the dark. Your brother however, can…”

  “He has an artificial eye,” she reminded him. “As far as I know he can see through walls with that thing.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugged, waving it off, “I don’t know. Probably not through walls…” She pulled her legs in, sitting Indian-style. “Sooo, what are you doing here? And where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages…”

  “Well, yes…” he began, pouring a snifter of Diterian Brandy. He held it out offering it to her but she shook her head no. The bottle disappeared into his cloak and he swirled the liquor around the glass, staring at it. “Things have be
en very busy. I’ve been very busy.” He took a sip, watching her through the distortion of the glass. He let the warm liquid slide down his throat before continuing, “You’ve seen your brother, then?”

  “Yes…” she replied, suspect.

  “Mmm,” he nodded again, looking somewhat introspective, “he’s getting stronger.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He is testing his limits, pushing into his new abilities…”

  Lisa raised an eyebrow, “What the hell are you talking about? What new abilities?”

  “Things have changed…”

  “Yeah. Thank you, Captain Obvious,” interrupted Lisa, her own snarkiness catching her by surprise.

  “Your brother has changed…”

  Lisa’s eyes narrowed, “You mean the telepathy thing? My mother and I both have it…”

  “What you experienced with Jack, was Psychokinetic projection. We can do more than just visit, as you know. We can become solid and interact with our surroundings, physically and with our minds. Which is the psychokinetic portion of the equation.”

  “Wait, we? You said we…” A chill raced up her back… “I asked him if he was dead - he said he was fine. He never said no… Is he dead?”

  “He was at one time…”

  “Hold on,” she waved at him, interrupting again, “he was what at one time… dead?”

  “Yes, dead. For a time…”

  Lisa’s brow furrowed, “For a time…” Her mind raced ahead, “So, then he was revived - is that what you’re saying?” Her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears.

  “Not revived. Resurrected.”

  Lisa felt light-headed, nauseous, “Oh God…” She wiped the sweat off her face, “Oh God,” she repeated, her voice a whisper, her head swimming.