by D F Capps
“Those children grow up in the military. They live their lives defending our world in space against the Greys, the reptilians, and other violent species. Even though their motivation is service to self, we place them in a situation where they are serving others by protecting our home world. They love the power and the challenge, the violence and the risk. They live for the battle and the glory or the intrigue on other worlds.
“In your world, the psychopaths and the sociopaths seek power, control, and influence. They do everything they can to get that power and control at the expense of other people. This is why you have the poor and the sick. People driven by greed deprive others of resources by taking more and more for themselves. They don’t care about other people. That lack of caring about others creates the poor and leaves people sick and suffering. This is why you have crimes, wars, and violent conflicts amongst yourselves. It’s also why the Zeta Greys are here. Your world is already divided, waiting to be conquered.”
It was a disturbing vision, Andrews thought. Haven’t the poor and the sick always been with us? Or have we also had the greedy and power-hungry creating those conditions from the very beginning? “What stops the military from invading your world and taking whatever they want?” Andrews asked.
“The planetary shield is closely controlled by civilians from the surface of the planet,” Charlie explained. “The military has no access to the shield or to the planet.”
“I take it only the most dedicated and loyal military are stationed close to the planet?”
Charlie nodded. “It’s a simple but practical system.”
The simpler it is, the better it works, Andrews thought.
Charlie smiled at him.
“How many?” Andrews asked.
Charlie looked him in the eyes. “Five and a half percent of our population goes into the military: One out of every ten men, one out of every hundred women.”
Andrews breathed out and looked at the floor. “And here?”
“That percentage and the ratio of men to women is surprisingly consistent among human races—yours included.”
Andrews shook his head. With a world population of over seven billion people . . .
Three hundred and eighty-five million people would go into a space-based military, Charlie’s voice answered in his mind. If you’re going to patrol and effectively defend your solar system, you’re going to need that many people.
He looked over at Charlie. “And on your home planet?” Andrews asked.
“We don’t allow psychopaths, sociopaths, and criminals to have access to our peaceful, law abiding population. We keep them forever separate.”
* * *
“But don’t the parents miss their children?” Martha asked. “Don’t they worry about what is happening to them?”
Charlie nodded. “Yes, of course they do. What if you had a child who didn’t care if he hurt others and he went into the military where he could do what he really wanted to do to others while defending your world? Would you want him at home, hurting innocent people?”
The question stunned her. She sat, mouth open a bit, unable to form a response in her mind.
“Or if you had a child who was caring, loving, gentle, and kind. Then he ended up going into the military, fought in a war, and came back physically damaged, emotionally broken, and unable to cope in society, unable to have a meaningful relationship? Which would you choose if it were your child?”
Martha’s shoulders slumped. Her mind was frozen on the question of what she would really want for her own child.
“We try to do what’s best for each individual,” Charlie said. “We don’t send the gentle souls into war, and we don’t let the violent souls loose in our peaceful society.”
“Like tough love?” Martha asked.
She looked into his face, looking for hope.
“It’s tough to do, I agree, but it’s actually reasoned, caring, and compassionate.”
Reason, caring, and compassion, she thought. Three words that rarely make it into the same sentence.
“That’s the kind of choice we’re going to have to make in the future, isn’t it?” Andrews asked.
Charlie nodded. “Sooner rather than later.”
She had trouble thinking of sending a child of hers away to a military academy at age eight as caring and compassionate. It seemed much more like abandonment to her. The whole concept troubled her, but conditions here on Earth weren’t like that now. Maybe they never had to be.
“And you’re here because . . . ?” Martha asked.
“You need to know that you’re not alone—that the Zeta Greys have done the same thing to hundreds, if not thousands of other worlds—that you have help from other human races, and that you can defeat the Zeta Greys. You will have to expose and destroy all of the corruption, lies, and secrets in order to succeed. Keep in mind that it is deceit, corruption, and secrecy that allowed the Greys to be here in the first place. It’s a hard and brutal process, but it’s the only thing that will work. This method worked for us and we are here to help insure it will work for you.”
Andrews turned to Martha. She suspected he knew what her next question was going to be.
“What happened to Drufallo, the one who first stood up against the Zeta Greys in your world?” Martha asked.
Charlie glanced at the floor, then back to her. “He was killed before he could witness the success of our battle for freedom. But his life and his ideas inspired others who fought on in his place. Because of him, and his vision for our world, we are free today.”
Martha turned and looked at her husband, worried fear filled her chest. “And my husband’s place in all of this?”
“He is the first world leader to stand against the Zeta Greys and try to unify your world. We hope his vision and courage will lead others in your world to fight for their own freedom.”
She moved to face Charlie. “And if he fails?”
Charlie looked directly into her eyes.
“If he doesn’t commit everything to this fight, then there is no hope.”
Chapter 12
Elegant simplicity, Rosaq thought. Earth humans loved secrecy and couldn’t resist being in on something denied to others. For many humans, secrecy was the equivalent of high social standing, self-worth, and personal importance all rolled into one. Secrecy and compartmentalization became so ingrained in human political and military control systems that it was the obvious choice as a manipulation vehicle.
Human secrecy systems were still elementary in their structure, with three primary levels of access, becoming more restrictive with each progressive level. The lowest level was confidential, followed by secret, then top secret. Not satisfied with those, humans devised a higher level known as special access programs, or SAPs, which were often numbered. Some SAPs were so secret that they were not only officially denied, but were never even acknowledged to exist. That’s where Rosaq implemented his plan to subdue the humans.
Through abductees, Rosaq was able to get wireless access to every major computer network on the planet. He became an invisible administrator in every system, creating hundreds of unacknowledged special access programs (USAP) piggybacked onto the existing networks. No trace remained on the servers, as he spliced his communications into current data streams. His messages were unrecognized by all, except his human targets for covert activities. Each human contacted through this USAP network thought he was a part of a government sponsored activity, which was simply unacknowledged. His targets were humans filled with greed, avarice, and loathing for the ordinary person. Some of them he had met, but most he hadn’t. It didn’t matter. They were what humans called pawns, objects with little intrinsic value, but willing and able to accomplish his designs for the future of humanity.
For the last nine years Rosaq recruited and directed his secret army of humans to create even more division and mistrust in the population. Now it was time to take the next logical step and increase the violence and mistrust on the planet, bringing
it one step closer to total collapse. Regional wars and terrorism must be gradually escalated into a global conflict, and he knew exactly whom he could use to accomplish that task.
* * *
Conrad Kaplan met with Harlan Mohr, head scientist for research and development of Valkyrie Research Industries, Limited.
“What did you get from Rosaq?” Kaplan asked.
Mohr grinned. “A potential solution to our speed and distance problem in the anti-ballistic missile program. An intercontinental ballistic missile is most vulnerable during its boost phase, meaning from the moment it is launched until it is in the upper atmosphere. That’s about a five-minute window. We have the interceptor missile that can hit an ICBM within that timeframe, but we currently need to be within a hundred and fifty miles of the launch site.”
Kaplan understood the problem. “For a country as large as Russia, that’s just not possible.”
“Exactly. However, by combining our conventional design with Rosaq’s alien technology, we can achieve much higher speeds and a greatly extended range. The new hybrid design should allow us to hit an ICBM within two minutes of its launch at a range of a thousand miles, maybe more.”
Kaplan tried to run some quick calculations through his mind. “So what does that mean in plain English?”
“It means that the anti-ballistic missile system we have in place around Russia and China will have the speed and range to become a hundred percent effective against land-based ICBM launches. In its original concept, the ABM program focused on hitting an incoming nuclear warhead falling from sub-orbital space. That was the equivalent of hitting a bullet with another bullet, both fired at each other. With the new system we can take out the ICBMs right after launch, while it’s a large, slow-moving target and still within the atmosphere.”
Yes, Kaplan thought. This was what he had wanted all along. “How long before we can run a test?”
Mohr ran his hand over his mouth, apparently estimating what remained to be done. “Three to four months. We’ll run the first test without a moving target, just to finalize the proof-of-concept.”
“We’ve had problems with technology we received from him before,” Kaplan said. This was the problem with Rosaq: He made it seem so simple in the beginning, but the project kept running into one problem after another. Progress that should have taken a month or two was taking years to accomplish. “How confident are you of obtaining reliable results?”
“Fairly confident at this point. In the past we’ve been working with technology way beyond our level of experience and understanding. I blame our lack of understanding as much as Rosaq’s vagueness on details. Basically, we didn’t know what questions to ask, so we didn’t have enough answers or knowledge. Once we learned enough to pin him down, we finally got the answers we needed.”
“I don’t know,” Kaplan said. “I still don’t trust him. He’s just plain creepy.”
“He’s commander of the Zeta Greys. That’s what his name, Rosaq, means: commander.”
Kaplan shook his head. “I still don’t trust him. He’s too manipulative and deceptive.”
Mohr stepped back a little and grinned. “So he’s too much like you?”
Kaplan had to chuckle. “You know what I mean—I hate competition.”
Chapter 13
Diane Zadanski woke at 6:00 a.m. as usual, showered, and dressed in her new uniform. They did their homework, she thought. The uniform fit perfectly. She wondered when she’d get a flight suit. Flight suits were typically custom-made to a person’s exact dimensions. A weight gain of only two pounds could alter how her suit fit. A five pound gain and she couldn’t get into it at all.
She walked briskly down the hall to the cafeteria, weaving between moving construction vehicles. Eight men and one woman sat eating at the long table in the center of the large room.
“Hey,” a dark-haired man said, nodding in her direction. “Newbie.”
They all turned to look at her.
“Let me guess,” a tall African-American man with a shaved head said, looking her over. “No brothers or sisters?”
Why would he ask that? she wondered. “None.”
He nodded once. “Parents both dead?”
She flushed with the personal nature of the question. “My dad died before I had any memory of him. I lost my brother nine years ago. Mom passed last week. Why?”
The group glanced at each other.
“Sorry about your mom,” the dark-haired man said. “I’m Clay Obers, used to be a captain in the Army Air Corp. I’ve been here the longest—six months.”
“Matt Douglas,” another man said, standing to shake her hand.
“Glen Simmons,” the African-American man said. “Welcome to the orphan squad.”
“The what?” This was the strangest group of pilots she had ever encountered.
“The orphan squadron,” the woman said. “I’m Captain Helen Catalano, Air Force. Every one of us is an orphan: no family or close relatives.”
Diane frowned. “Why would that matter?”
“We’re expendable,” Clay said. “No notification requirements. They don’t have to even acknowledge we existed, let alone died.”
Diane was stunned. She had never looked at it that way before.
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Helen said. “He’s got this morbid thing going.”
“It’s pointless to deny reality,” Clay said. “We’re cannon fodder—expendable people in a hopeless cause.”
Helen stood and faced Clay. “It’s not hopeless, but your attitude certainly is. I can’t understand how they let you into this program in the first place. This is a squadron of winners. How a loser like you got in is beyond me.”
Clay stood and moved closer to Helen. “You’re still too naive and gullible to see the writing on the wall. We’re all going to die. We can’t win against the saucers and you know it.”
Diane was horrified at the confrontation taking place.
“We can and we will. Just not with cowards like you.” Helen shoved Clay back. “Why don’t you pack your bags and go back home where you belong!”
Clay stepped nose to nose with Helen. Anger flooded into his face. His hands closed into fists.
“Hey!” Diane shouted. “Are we professionals?” Clay and Helen looked at her. “Because if we are—there’s no room for squabbling and disrespect. Admiral Hollis didn’t pick us because we’re expendable, but because we’re the best hope he has for winning.” She felt the presence of someone behind her. She spun around, only to come face-to-face with Hollis.
Diane was stunned that no one announced the admiral’s presence, or stood at attention. She stood stiff and tall. “Sir.”
“Not necessary,” Hollis replied as he walked past her. “I understand Captain Obers feeling discouraged about our lack of progress. I feel discouraged, too. It doesn’t change the fact that we have a job to do. If you weren’t the very best in our military system, you wouldn’t be here. So let’s focus on that and find a way to shoot down those saucers. Can we agree on that?”
“Yes, sir,” they all responded.
Hollis headed over to the breakfast buffet line.
“You two have to put an end to this conflict with each other,” Simmons said. “It’s bad karma for the entire group. Fighting with the enemy is what we do—it doesn’t define who we are. We’re not fighters for the sake of fighting—we’re warriors in the cause of freedom. In order to succeed, we have to be at complete peace within ourselves and with each other.”
Diane approached the nine people at the table.
“He’s right,” Diane said. “Out there in the sky, our lives depend on unwavering trust in each other. Anger and resentment erode that trust and put all our lives at risk. This has to end, now.”
Clay looked embarrassed, but he held his hand out to Helen.
“Clean start?” Clay asked. “Forgive and forget?”
Helen seemed hesitant at first. She glanced at Diane, then nodded. “Clean start,” H
elen said as she shook his hand. “Forgiven and forgotten.”
As some of them began to sit back down, Diane turned to Simmons. “That’s quite the insight.”
He smiled and shrugged. “It’s a Zen thing. Most people wouldn’t understand.”
Zen, she thought, in a secret space program. Go figure. “Well, I don’t necessarily understand,” she said, “but I like it.”
Clay turned to Diane. “Hollis run you through the simulator last night?”
“Yes.” How could she not admit that? The scout saucer, her brother’s abduction, finally realizing he was gone. It wasn’t her finest moment.
“How much thrust when you crashed?”
This certainly was a strange group. First the orphan squad thing, now the simulator crash. “How do you—?”
“Everybody crashes their first night,” Helen said. “You are?”
Everyone crashes? Diane thought. Hollis must push all of the new pilots until they crash, she realized. That would give him a realistic understanding of their skill level. Clever.
“Lieutenant Diane Zadanski, U.S. Navy—well, was.”
Clay shifted his weight from one leg to the other, apparently anxious about something. “So how much thrust?” he asked again.
“Only twenty percent,” she said, half embarrassed by the low number.
“Whoa,” Glen said. “How many times through the simulator?”
She thought back to last night in the simulator room. “Three.” I wouldn’t necessarily count the first one, I froze, she thought, but I guess it still counts.
“Ooooh,” a sandy-haired man replied. “We got a hot new jockey on board. Watch your back, Obers, she’s goin’ to take you down.”