by Steve Alten
Tell Joyce and my boy …
Adam watched as Joshua LaCombe’s eyes glazed over. “Captain?”
Did he say my unborn kid?
He looked up as the sound of motorcycles approached in the distance.
Leaning on the rake, Adam limped to the barn door and sealed it, then returned to the hovering disk. Looking up at the curved underside, he noticed a hexagon-shaped honeycombed configuration.
“Think the hatch open.”
Open, please.
The honeycomb pattern pixilated, collapsing upon itself to become a hatch.
Okay, that was cool. Adam balanced on his right leg fourteen feet beneath the opening. Now how am I supposed to climb up in there?
A strange sensation made him smile, then he laughed out loud as his body became weightless and the ARV’s anti-gravity bubble swept him up inside the ship.
Subterranean Complex—Midwest USA
The Genetics Lab occupied two levels and more than six square miles of the subterranean complex’s lower floors. Promising to limit the tour to two locations, Joyce escorted Jessica to an ET repository—a dark chamber where the preserved remains of several dozen interstellar life forms were floating in clear vertical tubes of liquid.
“My God … How many different Interstellar species have visited Earth?”
“The reports vary. I’ve heard anywhere from sixteen to thirty-five. My genetics team was assigned to work with the three most prevalent extraterrestrial species. This first tube holds a rare specimen—a very human-like ET known as a Nordic. We believe they’ve been infiltrating society for quite some time.”
The specimen was a female and startlingly human in appearance, save for a slightly narrower skull and cat-like irises.
“With a pair of contact lenses, it would be nearly impossible to distinguish them from us. What do they want?”
“We don’t know. But neither the Nordics nor any of these other Interstellars have ever been hostile—even though we’ve repeatedly shot them down.”
“What about the times they’ve shut down our nuclear ballistic missiles?”
“I don’t consider that hostile. It’s more like a parent taking away fire-crackers from a preschooler.”
Joyce led Jessica to the next vertical container, the contrast between the Nordic and this creature startling. The six-foot biped possessed the head of a praying mantis and a pair of hand-like appendages on each upper limb.
“That is seriously ugly.”
“Don’t judge a species by its appearance. While we trace our beginnings to primates—one of the most violent life forms in the animal kingdom, this Interstellar species evolved from insects. They happen to be an extremely advanced and peaceful race that has taken a real liking to man.”
The last two rows of vertical tubes contained the remains of the Grey species that Colonel Johnston had used to infiltrate Jessica’s subconscious.
“These are Greys, of course. We believe they come from a planet in Zeta Reticuli, a binary star system about 39.5 light years away. There is increasing evidence that the Greys manipulated our genetic code as many as sixty times over the last several million years.”
“Why would they alter our genetic code?”
“There are a lot of reasons. Most fall under the category, ‘to accelerate our evolution as a species.’ Earth is a wonderful habitat, Jess, but over most of its six billion year history it has experienced multiple epochs of glaciations, each of which nearly wiped out every life form in existence. The evolution of Homo sapiens happened only because Earth has been experiencing a temperate period between ice ages.”
“And you think it’s possible the Greys accelerated our simian development in order to give us the best chance to survive?”
Joyce nodded. “And now, because of fossil fuels, we’re accelerating Global Warming. What the average American and the Climate Change deniers in Washington refuse to understand is that Global Warming causes ice ages. When Greenland’s ice melts, all of that fresh water will inundate the North Atlantic Current, diluting its saline content. Salt water is what circulates the thermohaline, and the thermohaline is what keeps Europe and North America warm.
“Unless we drastically reverse carbon emissions, the thermocline will stop. And when it does, the Earth’s temperature will plummet. Within months, most of North America and Europe could be covered in snow and ice.”
“Is that why you brought me here, Joyce? To smuggle a zero-point-energy unit off this base in order to stop Climate Change?”
“Yes and no. The zero-point-energy unit is being delivered to your fiancé as we speak, along with access to off-shore accounts totaling a hundred billion dollars.”
“My God …”
“Unfortunately, there’s another threat that supersedes Global Warming. Come with me, and keep your headpiece on.”
They left the repository and approached a set of sealed doors which opened as Dr. LaCombe approached. Jessica followed her inside to a balcony located several stories above a gymnasium-size mosh-pit.
Milling about below were hundreds of Grey extraterrestrials.
“Welcome to La-La Land.”
The ETs appeared delirious, bumping into one another, walking into walls.
“What the hell, Joyce? Did you capture these beings?”
“God, no. They were biologically cloned; we call them PLFs … Programmed Life Forms. We manufacture them here in Dulce and in the Pine Gap facility in Australia. Their neural complexes have been fitted with a microchip implant which scrambles their thoughts, forcing them to obey our commands. The lab is surrounded by a very powerful Faraday Chamber, otherwise the ETs would simply walk through the walls and disappear.”
“Why are you cloning them?”
“We’re cloning them for the same reason we’re building hundreds of ARVs. MAJI has been preparing for a fake alien invasion for decades; only in this Orwellian nightmare we are both the us and the them. The fake ships and aliens … it’s all a false flag event staged to look like a real Independence Day.”
“This is insane. Why would MAJI do this?”
“Mostly because they’re power-hungry … and endless war allows them to control the planet and regulate the human population. Then there is a religious faction of MAJI who believes Armageddon will lead to the Second Coming. So you have the military sociopaths and the religious fanatics joining forces to launch their new campaign against terror which will unite what’s left of the world against Satanic species from other worlds.”
“No … I don’t believe it.”
“Scott Hopper was assigned the task of programming the array’s target list; he revealed it to me two days before they poisoned him. The West will get hit first of course … London and Los Angeles, then Moscow and Beijing. Syria and ISIS will be incinerated, along with a billion innocent Muslims, and Iran will get theirs too. Jerusalem will be attacked but will manage to survive in order to appease the radical Christians rooting for the return of their savior. After that, America will stage a comeback as our Zeus Space Defense System, quote-unquote ‘becomes operational.’ Putin and Trump will play starring roles, their egos left to fight on Twitter as to which one of them actually saved the world.
“It should be one helluva show … a lesson on how to reduce the human race by eighty percent, brought to you courtesy of the wackos running MAJI.”
39
Cassopolis, Michigan
ADAM WATCHED IN AMAZEMENT as the hexagon-shaped hatch sealed beneath him.
He was weightless because he had wished it so, just as he knew he could instantly restore gravity within the tight confines of the ship with only a change of thought.
The lower level was as tight as an attic. Three large gravity amplifiers, each equipped with two-by-four-foot-long rudder-like objects that occupied most of the space.
He rose past ladder rungs leading up to the main deck. A circular console occupied the middle of the chamber, its three crew seats positioned at intervals around the controls.
<
br /> Adam grabbed on to one of the seatbacks and pulled himself in, then thought away the zero-gravity setting … his body mass returning like a concrete suit.
“I need to get—” I mean, I need to get to Dulce, New Mexico. Better open the barn roof first.
Nothing happened.
* * *
The eleven Devil’s Diciples’ motorcycles rolled past the closed gas station, following the deserted two-lane highway to the northwest. Reaching the farm, they turned up the gravel drive and parked next to the van, shutting down their engines.
Aaron Edward Rahn, A.K.A. “Fast Eddie,” ordered his crew to search the farmhouse and garage. Having taken over as warlord following his predecessor’s conviction on RICO charges, Fast Eddie had moved the gang’s business from meth to Murder, Inc. The “contracts” were provided by a former Vice Admiral who Rahn’s father had served under, the victims considered enemies of the state who needed to “disappear.” The bikers had proved to be fast, reliable, and extremely ruthless, their only shortcoming—an affinity for the killers to wear the teeth of their victims on a necklace.
This job was a bit different. Adam Shariak’s body would be found in a hotel room. The woman hired to do the hit would get whacked herself, their naked corpses arranged in what was supposed to look like a lover’s tiff.
“Eddie, there’s two bodies in the farm house—the girl and Big Tommy. We found Snowman and Sasha in the garage … both dead. There’s no sign of Shariak.”
They turned as two bikers waved at the warlord from the barn door, one holding up Adam’s night glasses. “Over here!”
* * *
Adam tried rephrasing the thought command a dozen different ways. He searched the vessel for some kind of hydraulic controller. Desperate, he even tried all three pilot seats … only nothing would raise the barn roof.
Mull said the headset wouldn’t work for me …
A warning light flashed as the forward panel went translucent. He could now see through the ship and the barn door into the night where one of the bikers was removing something large from the van’s hidden compartment.
The weapon illuminated and enlarged on the screen.
“Christ … that’s an RPG.”
Open barn roof! Prepare to activate Omicron configuration.
Still nothing.
Adam’s eye tracked the biker as he stood before the barn door and hoisted the rocket-propelled grenade launcher upon his right shoulder.
Screw it. Activate Delta configuration!
Select destination.
I don’t know … how about Jupiter.
* * *
Adam opened his eyes … which, in retrospect, indicated he had closed them. Strangely, he hadn’t remembered closing them … or leaving the barn, or for that matter, experiencing any hint of a passage of time. And yet here he was, looking out a 360-degree view of space dominated by the monstrous planet whose southern hemisphere loomed over him like the epitome of creation.
Adam stared at the goliath … how could one not? The island of hydrogen, helium, and churning bands of sulfurous clouds was more than three hundred times the size of Earth, its volatile winds whipping three times faster than a Category-5 hurricane. And yet the behemoth was beautiful, its atmosphere colored in blues, browns, reds and whites; its ice rings sparkling like diamonds.
Gazing at him from the belly of the beast was the leviathan’s crimson eye—the Great Red Spot—large enough to engulf two Earths. And then there were Jupiter’s moons; four immense gravity-affecting toddlers and sixty-plus smaller tykes, all of which appeared to be trolling above the planet’s exotic seas like tiny orbs … each a world unto itself.
As he watched, a dark speck came into view, rotating counterclockwise with the planet. Too oddly shaped to be a moon, Adam realized it was following a geosynchronous orbit and would pass directly between his craft and the planet.
And now he could see it … an immense triangular Interstellar mothership that dwarfed his tiny vessel in the same manner Jupiter dwarfed Earth.
Filled with wonderment, he reached out telepathically with a greeting.
I am Adam.
Greetings, Adam. You are the first to venture this far.
I come in peace.
There are no boundaries in peace. Safe travels, friend Adam.
In that moment, in the emptiness of space, he was at one with the universe and the universe was at one with him … his soul a spark of the single creation that had given birth to the Big Bang and every atom in the physical universe.
Adam was overcome by such a feeling of brotherhood and unconditional love that he wept.
Having strapped in, he had not realized the cabin was experiencing zero gravity until the object ejected from the main console. He reached out for it as it floated by—the device an island of energy, a buoy to a future denied to humans by those who had sought only to erect boundaries.
Engage Delta configuration …
Take me back to Earth.
40
Dulce Subterranean Base
Dulce, New Mexico
DR. JOYCE LACOMBE topped her cup of coffee off with a second shot of whiskey. “Do you know who I admire?”
Jessica passed on the offering. “Who do you admire, Joyce?”
“The blissfully ignorant.”
“You mean the ones who define technology as an iPhone-7, but believe it’s impossible to run a car off of anything but gasoline?”
“Exactly. I’d love to just wake up one morning and have a blissfully ignorant life with a husband who drove a truck, or a son who could play sports instead of reside in a bunker four months out of the year.”
“Know what I think? I think you’re jealous of the ignorant, but I don’t think you admire them … that’s what I think.”
Joyce took another swig of her drink. “You know me that well, do you?”
“I know me that well. I wouldn’t want to not know the truth … the truth is beautiful. It’s the lies that are ugly.”
“And have you decided on whether you’ll be helping us to spread the truth?”
“Tell me what I have to do.”
Joyce leaned in to whisper, even though she had rigged her private office with white noise dampeners. “Getting hold of a zero-point unit was never on our radar, you sort of walked that option home. Far more important than a working device are its schematics. We’ve been able to copy the plans for three different zero-point-energy generators onto several USB flash drives. The challenge is getting them out of this facility—not an easy task given the ultra-high security present in these lower levels.”
“But you came up with an option?”
“Not an option but a real solution. The option is whether you are willing to accept a small amount of temporary discomfort in order to make the world a safer, better place for your unborn child.”
* * *
Dr. Lara ushered the two women into Transdimensional Surgical Suite-4. “Everything is set. The entire procedure should take less than four minutes.”
“Well, I’ve got about eight minutes worth of questions,” Jessica replied quickly. “Just so I understand this, you want to amputate one of my fingers and grow back a replacement finger with the flash drive grown under my skin?”
“Correct. The flash drive will be placed beneath the tendon and bone where any skilled surgeon will be able to slide it out.”
“Without removing my new finger?”
“Correct. Again Dr. Marulli, there should be no lasting effects other than a small scar.”
“Which finger?”
“That is a legitimate question; let us take a look.”
Reaching into his lab coat pocket, Dr. Lara removed a small flat flash drive sealed in white rubber latex. Holding up the object to each finger, the TDS surgeon measured the width.
“You said you were right-handed?”
“Yes.”
“Then I would say the best results should come by replacing the fourth digit of your left hand.”
/> “Hello? That’s where I’m wearing my engagement ring.”
“That’s an engagement ring?”
“Yeah, wise ass. Maybe I should castrate you and we can smuggle the flash drive out in your new ball sack.”
“Take it easy,” Joyce said. “Dr. Lara, use the ring finger on the right hand … it’s only a twenty-four hour inconvenience … she’ll manage.”
Jessica eased herself onto the rubber table top and laid back, looking up at the underside of half a dozen six-foot-tall sickle-shaped transformers.
Dr. Lara prepared a syringe. “I’m going to give you a few injections for the pain, then administer a local anesthetic. Dr. LaCombe, if you’d start the I.V.”
She winced at the cold spray preceding the two numbing injections, her heart beating rapidly as Joyce inserted an I.V. tube into a vein in her left forearm.
She glanced at the face of a large wall clock as the antibiotic drip entered her bloodstream.
It’s 04:17. Only two hours and forty-three minutes before I get … to … go … home …
* * *
Joyce watched as Dr. Lara engaged the transdimensional bubble around Jessica’s right hand. “The vortex will prevent any bleeding when I remove the finger … like … so—”
Joyce found herself turning away as he clipped off the digit.
“Are you squeamish, Dr. LaCombe? You should have seen what our teams went through when we were amputating the limbs off street people. The remains we left buried in the desert still give me nightmares.”
Using a probe, he positioned the flash drive beneath the flexor tendon connecting Jessica’s right hand to the fourth finger’s lower joint. “As you can see, I’m going a little lower so she’ll still maintain a bit of flexion in the—”
The detonation shook the Dulce complex, rattling the fluorescent lights mounted in the ceiling.
Dr. Lara looked up, his focus momentarily broken. “What was that?”