by Ballan, Greg
“I haven’t received any specifics as of yet. All I know is that the aliens are on the way, moving at speeds well beyond our technological capability.” Denton’s facial expression turned even more serious. “Might you be able to hold them off? Between us, my friend – just how powerful have you become that the government would want you in the middle of this fray?”
Erik gave Denton a dubious look. “I don’t know. I’ve done some experiments shortly after my change, looking for limits or boundaries.” Erik paused to sip his coffee.
“And?” Denton urged.
“I had to stop before I found any. “I kept changing shortly after the initial mutation. Each time I transformed, there was a new latent ability that I hadn’t recognized earlier. I have limits, I just don’t know what they are and I’m afraid to push myself any further than I already have, in order to reach them.”
“But do you think you’ll be able to go toe to toe with these things when they get here?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Martin. Let’s get out there and pull the damn plug on this before it goes any further. The sooner I get Shanda home and get this mess cleaned up the happier I’ll be.”
“I’ll put in a call to the Pentagon to see if I can get you a flight out there,” Martin replied.
“When will the government brief the public about this threat?”
“We don’t want to inform the public until we know what’s really going on. We’re hoping to avoid a confrontation. If not then a general warning will be issued. There’s no sense in causing a global panic when we really have no idea what’s about to occur, is there?” Denton replied.
“I guess not, but the secrecy bothers me. If my ass was about to be cooked I’d want to know about it as early as possible.”
“Can you imagine what an ‘end of the world’ speech would do right now? There’d be panic, looting and lawlessness. We need to defer that as long as possible or avoid it all together,” Denton said in a grave voice.
“Makes sense. Let me know as soon as possible about that transportation. If I have to, I’ll get to Groom Lake on my own. It may take me longer but I’ll get there.”
“I’ll have your answer on transportation this afternoon at the latest,” Denton assured him. “In the meantime there’s a videoconference in Boston concerning force deployment and resources. It’s a top-secret briefing, and you’ve been given clearance to attend. Washington is being briefed from NORAD and Cheyenne Mountain on our defensive capabilities as well as your input on what you can do to augment our ground forces, if it goes that far. I was told to twist your arm to get you to attend.”
Erik shook his head. He would fight if he had to, but he refused to be a pawn on the chessboard anymore. He was going to start playing his own game.
“I need to get to Groom Lake sooner than that, Martin,” Erik countered.
Denton raised an eyebrow in shock. “I know you’re anxious to get your wife back, Erik, but I think you just missed the entire point of what I told you. We’re being invaded, son, and the president is calling on you to help defend this county – this planet.”
“The president wants his favorite cleaner to take care of yet another mess that was created by failed government oversight and government mismanagement.”
“You’ve got a point, I’ll concede that. But you have to admit that the current circumstance should supersede your need for rubbing the government’s face in its own excrement.”
Erik smiled despite himself. “Martin, you have a most unique way of putting things. I’ll forego the excrement rubbing providing I get my transportation shortly after. My wife’s probably wondering if I’m ever coming for her.”
“She’s probably in the safest place right now, relatively speaking, if there is an invasion. She’d be in more danger out here in a panicked populace if things go south. Groom Lake is one of the most battle-hardened facilities in the country.”
“True.” the detective agreed. “But she’s under Ross’s thumb, as a prisoner. I’d rather have her with me where I can see to her protection.”
“Are we about done here?” Denton changed the subject. “The videoconference starts in a little over an hour. I’d like to be on time for this one,” Denton said as he gestured toward the door.
Erik stood up and grabbed his jacket, “After you, counselor.”
Groom Lake Command Center 0830 hours Eastern Time
Ross, followed by the Pentagon group, walked into the control center amidst alarms blaring and panic spreading. “Report!” he ordered.
“Sir,” the technician on radar said, sitting at attention, “the alien armada made a hyper light jump. They vanished off our scopes and then reappeared just outside lunar orbit. The lunar observatory post is tracking them along with our sensors. The alien vessels have formed up just outside of the moon and are currently at station keeping.”
“Have NORAD and Cheyenne Mountain been notified?” Ross asked the technician.
“They have identical feeds from the lunar satellite. We’ve been sharing analytical probabilities for the past fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Why execute a jump now?” Ross muttered, scratching his head.
“Probably to catch us with our pants down,” Cole, a Pentagon official, replied. “They assumed we’d be preparing a reception based on their speed and direction. They let us get comfortable by staying on that heading, knowing they could jump at their leisure.”
Ross turned to the Pentagon official. “Cole, is it?” At the man’s nod, he went on. “Why not just jump after the first attack or just jump here directly?”
“I don’t know, Colonel. When they get here I’ll be sure to ask,” he replied sarcastically. “We’ve been outmaneuvered, Colonel. They’re here, and we’re not ready.”
Ross picked up a telephone. “What is the status of Goliath?” he asked the voice on the other end. Getting an ‘on standby mode’ answer, he ordered, “Get that platform on line and prepped for combat. I want our moon base arsenal ready to fire on my order.”
Cole looked at the colonel in disbelief. “Colonel! NORAD has not authorized this aggression. The president has not authorized any action that would lead you to take an aggressive posture.” He pointed to the radar. “These beings have technology that far surpasses ours. The prudent move is to establish a dialogue and see what they want. A peaceful negotiation is preferable to war – any day.”
“A close range preemptive strike is what’s required now. We fired Hubble’s missiles from a great range; they had too much time to detect the incoming weapons. If we can launch a missile strike from the moon they won’t have time to react. Our missiles will be on them in seconds.”
“Colonel, you don’t have the authority to proceed with that kind of action,” Cole insisted.
“Mr. Cole, I don’t need presidential authorization to end this threat.” Ross turned to the officer on duty. “Have moon base launch a nuclear assault against the alien fleet.
“No!” Cole shrieked. “Colonel, you’re going to bring them down on us like vengeful hornets if you launch a strike now. God only knows what type of response such an advanced technology is capable of executing! For Christ’s sake, man, think about what you’re doing. You’ll be instigating a war.”
Ross loomed over Cole. “I’m not interested in God or Christ right now. I’m only interested in ending the threat against this planet. Don’t you get it? They’ve been studying us for decades, learning about our physiology, studying our technology and our people with impunity. It has to end! We have to send them a message.”
Ross turned away from Cole and whispered into his link with the lunar stronghold. “Transmit my orders. Lock all weapons and set for the largest proximity blast. I want a sea of nuclear fire for those ships to burn in.”
Once Ross closed the communications link, he smirked. “Let them duck these.” He took the command seat and studied the computer representation of the moon and the nearby armada. The Pentagon group let out gasps and whis
pered frantically amongst themselves.
After thirty seconds of computer silence the monitor registered ten blips leaving the lunar surface and closing on the dots that represented the alien ships. As Ross had predicted, the fleet was caught by surprise and haphazardly broke formation, heading away from the incoming missiles. The alien carrier and two support ships were caught as the missiles detonated right on top of their location.
Ross screamed with elation as the concentric circles of energy engulfed the blips that represented some of the fleeing alien craft.
The shockwave dissipated after several seconds and it took lunar sensors a moment to re-acquire a target lock after the explosions. Ross now gaped at the computerized grid in stunned silence; two of the three alien ships had survived the blasts.
“Give me a remote visual,” he ordered.
When the image appeared, it was evident that the large carrier ship had sustained damage. One third of the vessel’s surface looked scorched. It now vented an orange-colored gas. The surviving, smaller escort craft seemed to be drifting but looked intact. The ships that had escaped the inferno moved back in visual range, forming a defensive wedge around the damaged vessels.
For several minutes the colonel, his on-duty staff and the officials from Washington observed the alien armada in silence. No one had expected the ships to survive the amount of destructive force that had been levied against them.
Ross’s stomach knotted. He quietly readied himself, waiting for the inevitable to occur.
“Sir! One of the escort vessels is breaking formation and approaching the moon.”
Ross watched helplessly as the satellite that was transmitting the images to Earth went dark and silent. The signal was instantly switched to a lunar feed – visual and audio.
Every soul in the room could hear the panicked voices from the men on the lunar station. Having also tracked the incoming ship, they knew that their fate was sealed.
“Sir, automated lunar defenses just came on line. EMP batteries have opened fire on the alien ship,” another operator reported. A short silence followed. “Sir, EMP batteries have only inflicted minor damage. They are deemed ineffective against the threat, sir.”
Soon after the display screen that had been processing imagery from the lunar station transmitted blue and white static.
Ross slowly rubbed in chin, considering his next option. Then he addressed a technician, patting his shoulder. “Switch over to one of our high altitude orbiting spy probes. Get me some data on what’s going on up there!”
“What’s going on!?” Cole spoke for the group of officials. “You imbecile. You’ve just instigated an intergalactic war without approval from our government. That’s what’s going on. You are responsible for the deaths of those men on our lunar tracking station, Colonel Ross, not to mention the loss of the facility itself.”
Ross whipped around to the group of officials; Cole stood a couple of paces ahead of them. “Shut up, Cole.” Ross eyed the officials, freeing his .45 pistol. He aimed it at his critics. He nodded to the two guards that were covering the main entrance.
“Airmen, escort these folks back to the briefing room and lock them in.” Several gasps from the group ensued.
“Colonel Ross!” Cole said. “The ramifications of your actions will affect the entire planet. We beg you not to take further aggressive actions that will only lead to more death and destruction.” Already being escorted out of the control room, Cole implored over a shoulder, “For God’s sake, man, think about what you’re doing.”
A barrel of an M-16 rifle, coaxed Cole along; he disappeared from view. Still his voice carried into the center. “You’ll kill us all if you attack again!”
“Colonel Ross, NORAD and Washington are on scramble.” Ross turned to the officer who’d spoken. “They want to know who authorized the attack on the alien fleet.”
“Transfer command back to my terminal then sever all communications with NORAD,” he ordered. “Instruct Falcon’s Nest to launch all birds on my order. Command Sequence Alpha – Beta – Epsilon – four – two – niner. Then transmit my personal pass code.”
* * * *
Lt. Colonel Bill Anderson gambled that his access card would still work to provide him entry to the facility and that Colonel Ross would be too preoccupied fighting his private war to remember details such as removing his access codes from the Groom Lake mainframe.
Anderson slid the card into the reader and sighed with relief as the massive titanium door hissed open. He stepped through the opening and spotted Staff Sergeant Phelps, Shanda Knight and Gray staring intently at the door. Shanda was holding her child tightly against her bosom. Anderson hurried over to the clear wall that kept her imprisoned.
“We were wrong; I was wrong,” Anderson said to her then turned to Gray. “What we’ve done is inexcusable, and I’m sorry for my part in it. I never thought Ross would go to this extreme. I never wanted to see any of you get hurt,” he said to Gray and Shanda.
Anderson gulped back tears. “We’ve lost our humanity. I’ve let this go too far,” he rambled. “I knew it was wrong but I let my ambition and greed blind me. May God have mercy on my soul.”
Anderson focused his attention to Erik Jr. and calmed, smiling. “Ross was wrong. Your son is beautiful. I can’t allow any harm to come to you or your baby.” He walked over to the access panel that controlled her cell and entered a sequence of codes.
He slid his card into a slot and the clear wall slowly disappeared into the floor.
“I don’t have the code to deactivate the suppression fields. Please step outside, Mrs. Knight,” Anderson said as he gestured toward the opening. Shanda moved tentatively outside her cell.
Anderson next opened the wall that kept Gray a prisoner. “Please, step out, young Gray.” The lieutenant colonel extended a hand toward the tiny alien. “Forgive me, please?”
Gray looked up at Anderson. He cocked his head to one side as if the empathic alien was experiencing Anderson’s grief, shame and regret. Then Gray smiled. “Your sorrow is sincere and genuine.” Gray reached up and gently took his hand. “I forgive you and thank you for freeing us,” he whispered in perfect English.
Anderson turned to Phelps in a panic. “Sergeant Phelps, the cameras have already detected what I’ve done. I suspect there’ll be several armed guards arriving shortly to take me into custody. I’ve unlocked my quarters, and I suggest that the four of you hide there.” He gestured to the titanium door. “Once you pass through that door you will be outside the null field, and from what I understand your husband will be able to detect your presence. Tell him where you are and what’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” Phelps asked, a stricken look on his face.
“Colonel Ross has instigated a war with Gray’s people. I overheard some chatter. He’s fired on their armada twice with nuclear missiles and atomic torpedoes and several EMP batteries. I don’t know what, if any damage has been done to their fleet. I can only assume from the blaring sirens that most of the armada is still on its way to Earth.” Anderson turned toward Gray. “Our government didn’t sanction this attack. They have no idea what’s been going on here. Gray, would you tell your people, your confinement was due to the actions of a few corrupt men and a paranoid military officer.”
Gray nodded solemnly. “I will do what I can.”
“Thank you.”
Running footsteps announced the arrival of armed soldiers.
Anderson whipped to a camera. “Damn you, Art!” He turned to the released group. “Ross has anticipated my move. The bastard knows me too well.” Shoulders slumped, Anderson turned to Shanda and Gray. “I have failed. I’m sorry.”
The armed guards herded the four humans and Gray back into their containment facility, but then Anderson surprised them by lunging forward and grappling with one guard. He managed to get his hands on the M-16 by twisting the guard’s arm; he pointed the rifle barrel toward the master control and squeezed the trigger with his last bit of stren
gth.
The automatic rifle roared to life sending the other guards and prisoners ducking for cover. Fifteen armor-piercing rounds penetrated the delicate circuitry that fed the internal null fields around both cells, deactivating the system. The damaged master panel was sending power surges throughout the entire containment grid. Several linked control panels erupted in a dazzling display of flying sparks. The smell of burnt electronics permeated the air along with a thick layer of white smoke which activated the chamber’s automatic ventilation fans which began clearing the smoke-filled room.
Two guards tackled Anderson and one struck him on the side of his head with a rifle butt, knocking him unconscious.
“Just stay here!” one of the guards ordered Phelps, Shanda and Gray as he gestured for his men to withdraw.
The soldiers stepped out of the chamber and closed the massive door behind them. Phelps rushed over to Anderson and dragged his body inside Shanda’s chamber.
“He’s bleeding pretty badly,” Phelps remarked.
But Shanda hadn’t moved a muscle. Her eyes were closed. She was concentrating on something very distant.
“What is it, Shanda?” Phelps asked.
“My husband! I can sense our link again, not strong, but I can definitely sense his essence. If I can feel his essence, then I know that he can feel mine.” Shanda stepped into her confinement chamber and gently placed her baby in the provided cradle, then went into the bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth. She carefully wiped the blood from Anderson’s wound.
Shanda raised a glance to Phelps. “Get me a large bandage from that kit in the corner and the tube of liquid stitch. We have to close this tear before it gets infected.” Phelps looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and she giggled. “Women are natural born drill sergeants, didn’t you know that?”