by D F Capps
“This sounds very extensive,” Glen said skeptically. “How many aliens do you think are here, underground?”
Greg pursed his lips together, then answered. “I heard rumors that there were between one and two thousand of the small Greys just at the base in New Mexico. Worldwide, I’ve heard it could be eighteen thousand, maybe more.”
Hollis pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket and read the screen. “I hate to cut this short,” Hollis said. “But we have to keep Greg moving, he’s being hunted by the Zeta Greys.”
Hollis turned to the security detail guarding Greg.
“We have activity in the area. Get him out of here.”
Greg looked terrified. The two agents rushed him out the front door and sped off in the black SUV.
* * *
Once they returned to Peregrine Base, Hollis gathered them in the conference room.
“Sir?” Diane asked. “There’s an underground alien base in the same state where we are. Isn’t that kind of close?”
“It’s actually just over two hundred and fifty miles away,” Hollis said. “Right now we’re not flying any craft in the area. Everything we need moves by truck, so we think it’s perfectly safe, at least for training.”
“So we’re almost right under their noses?”
Hollis nodded. “Yes, we are. Just for curiosity, would you look for an enemy base this close if you thought you were in complete control?”
Diane glanced at the wall and then back to Hollis. “No. I guess I wouldn’t.”
He held his hands out, palms up. “Well, they haven’t either. I took the time out of your training because you need to know exactly why you’re being asked to put your lives on the line. Our world is at risk and the future of human life hangs in the balance. I believe in you—all of you. You are the brightest and the best this world has to offer. I have every confidence that if a way to defeat the saucers can be found, you’ll find it.”
The pilots looked at each other in depressed silence, overwhelmed by the enormity of what had happened to the people they saw today, and the inconceivable task that stood before them.
“It’s been a long day,” Hollis said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we go back in the simulators. Find a way to shoot down the saucers.”
This really is the evil mom spoke about, Diane thought. Now I understand. All I have to do is figure out a way to do the impossible.
Chapter 19
Sean Wells took a seat eight rows back and near the aisle in the White House Briefing Room. The regular New York Times White House correspondent had promised that Stephanie Peterson, the White House Press Secretary, would call on him. After twenty minutes she walked to the podium and began her prepared briefing. When the time for questions came, Sean raised his hand.
“Mr. Wells, your question.”
“Yes, thank you. President Andrews is a huge supporter of global warming research. I have data showing a cooling trend in the Southeastern U.S. and a report from a guy who was a consultant for NASA and an advisor to the White House reporting that the ice in Antarctica has increased, not decreased, over the last fifteen years. The numbers involved aren’t trivial, they’re substantial. Your comment?”
The entire group of reporters groaned, obviously irritated with the politically incorrect question.
“While we are making some progress in dealing with global climate change, the vast majority of what needs to be done is still overwhelming. This is pulling us off topic. Will you see me after the briefing?”
“Of course.”
Okay, he thought. Now that I have their attention, what lies are they going to hand me next?
He waited for the briefing to end and for the room to clear out. Stephanie ducked back in the side door and motioned for him to follow her. She led him across the hallway and into her office.
“This is not for public consumption,” she began. “You can use it for deep background—from a well-placed, anonymous source—but nothing beyond that. Understood?”
“Certainly.” He knew the routine.
“We have an aerial spraying program in place to increase the reflectivity of the atmosphere and reduce the solar heating effect from the sun. That alone has reduced the rise in global temperature and postponed the devastating effects of global warming. We have managed to hold back, to some degree, the rise of ocean levels. So while global warming is caused by human activity, we are gradually finding man-made solutions to those same problems.”
Sean smiled. “This sounds like an expensive program. Is it?”
She nodded. “Yes, but it’s nowhere near the cost of displacing billions of people, let alone the political upheavals that global warming will cause. Compared to that, what we’re doing is a dirt-cheap bargain.”
Sean leaned forward in his chair. “How long has this program been in effect?”
“The program started small, twenty-five years ago. Once we worked out the kinks in the delivery system, we increased coverage. That’s why President Andrews is such a supporter of getting the global warming issue in front of the people. We have a potential solution: All we need is broader public support. That is where I think you can help us. Get the message out at the grass roots level that with more public support and funding, we can solve the global warming debacle.”
Yeah, Sean thought. Like I’m ever going to be your lap dog.
* * *
President Andrews looked up from his desk to see Doug Franks smiling as he walked into the oval office.
“You hardly ever smile anymore. Good news, I take it?” He relaxed back in his chair, waiting.
“Stephanie thinks she has a reporter for us—Sean Wells from the New York Times.”
Andrews thought for a moment. “That could work. Would he agree to do this for us?”
“That’s the beauty of it. He doesn’t have to agree. He’s anti-establishment. He’ll do it because he can take down part of the inner circle of influence. That’s what he loves to do. He won’t even question us being involved. It’s the perfect plan.”
Andrews smiled and nodded.
“I like it. Do it.”
* * *
Conrad Kaplan used his encrypted phone to access USAP317, the unacknowledged special access program he had been using for the last six years. He assumed that he had been granted access because of his position in black budget research programs. He didn’t know anyone in the USAP and no one had spoken to him about it. The access authorization, Internet address, and login had simply appeared on his encrypted phone one afternoon. The address didn’t show up on any Internet searches, leading him to the realization that it was part of the Darknet—sites accessible only if you’ve been invited in. He had logged in, created a password, and received the encryption key. He sent in a number of questions to the site to find out more about what it was, and what it did, but never received an answer of any kind.
Then, three months later he had a very vivid dream in which he owned two companies and was making millions of dollars in the Middle East and Africa, all with USAP317 protection. He had logged into USAP317, described what he envisioned, and much to his surprise received not only authorization, but contacts who would help him set his plan in motion. His role and position in the Partnership had come the very same way. He suspected that at least some of the other members in the Partnership had access to USAP317, but he had been carefully instructed to never talk about the program and, if questioned, what cover story to use.
Kaplan had recognized early on that some of the activities he was becoming involved in could run afoul of the government, not only here in the United States, but in other countries as well. But every time a situation arose and someone asked about what he was doing, he used the cover story provided by USAP317, and there was never any follow up. He was free to do whatever he wanted, as long as it was authorized through USAP317.
In his mind Kaplan used words like intoxicating and addictive to describe USAP317. The power and control provided by the program was both satisfying and ins
piring. At this point, he couldn’t imagine life without USAP317.
The other side of being involved in the unauthorized special access program was the actions they requested of him. This request involved adding a new member to the Partnership, a growing organization of highly influential people. The new member, Irwin Gould, was the head of the fourth largest financial institution in the world. Gould’s family had been involved in international banking for more than a hundred and fifty years with connections to several central banks across the globe. He would certainly be a welcome addition to the organization.
Chapter 20
“How’s life in conspiracy theory land?” Sean Wells asked.
“Business is good,” his old friend Patrick Flaherty replied. “The magazine and website are waking up more people every day. You need to get out of New York and take an honest look at what’s happening in the world. We’re spreading a lot of truth in a world of lies.”
Sean nodded. If something unusual was going on in the world, Patrick had an explanation for it. That’s why he called Patrick and asked what he knew about aerosol spraying programs. “Well, I can’t argue about the ‘world of lies’ part. What makes you think the other version is actually true?”
Patrick grinned. “Lab results, insider leaks, plus, most of this stuff is going on right in front of people’s eyes. You can see it for yourself.”
The waiter stopped by and took their drink orders.
“Stuff like what?” Sean asked.
Patrick glanced around the room, then leaned forward. “Chemtrails.”
Sean shook his head. “Those are just contrails from commercial aircraft. They fly at higher altitudes, so the contrails last longer.”
Patrick settled back and grinned. “You want to bet?”
Sean grinned right back at him. This was the Patrick he knew. “What did you have in mind?”
“Hundred bucks, cash on the barrelhead.”
Sean raised his eyebrows. Must be serious, he thought. It’s usually fifty.
“And how do we decide who’s right?”
Patrick leaned forward again as if what he had to say shouldn’t be overheard.
“Simple. Watch the skies over the next few days. When the sky is clear blue, check to see how many commercial flights have been cancelled or altitudes have been changed. If commercial aircraft are creating the extended white trails in the sky, a clear blue sky shouldn’t have any planes in it. Deal?”
Sean just had to chuckle to himself. “I know you’re wrong.”
Patrick had that clever Irish gleam in his eyes.
“Then prove it. If I’m right, buy me dinner as a bonus.”
Sean smiled. Neither one of them was going to settle for dinner at a buffet, he thought. This could get interesting.
Sean raised his eyebrows. “And if I’m right?”
Patrick chuckled. “You get a hundred bucks and dinner on me.”
“Deal.”
* * *
Sean walked out of the Washington Hilton the next morning and looked up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight—nor were there any contrails. The sky was a rich light blue. He used his phone to locate a college nearby with a meteorology department. The University of Maryland was close and it had post-graduate studies in Atmospheric and Oceanic Science.
He hailed a cab and headed northeast to College Park, Maryland. The cab dropped him off on Stadium Drive on the south side of the Computer and Space Sciences Building. He walked north and entered the main doors under the three-story rounded glass atrium of the red brick structure.
“I’m looking for Dr. Raju. Where can I find him?”
He asked three students before he got a response: “Lecture hall.”
“Where?”
The student pointed down the hall.
Sean quietly opened one of the double doors and stepped inside. The lecture hall was built on a sloping floor with approximately two hundred seats, of which only eighteen were in use. Dr. Raju stood at the podium pointing to a display behind him.
“Human contribution to carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere is significant. As people burned more and more coal for heating and power generation, the cooler oceans acted as a carbon dioxide sink, absorbing ninety thousand million tons of carbon dioxide each year. As the oceans warm during the summer, eighty-eight thousand million tons of carbon dioxide is released back into the atmosphere. The two thousand million tons of carbon dioxide retained by the oceans each year accounts for approximately one quarter of the carbon dioxide produced by humans. Colder ocean water holds more carbon dioxide, while warmer water releases more.”
Sean took an aisle seat in the middle of the lecture hall.
“Right now, the ocean absorption is helping us, but as the climate warms, the oceans will turn against us, releasing more carbon dioxide into the air than we produce. That will make the overall situation worse, creating a carbon dioxide cascade effect and warming the planet even more. As you can see, we are on the verge of catastrophic climate change. If we wait any longer, it may be too late to do anything at all to alter the global impact of greenhouse gasses.”
A bell rang, ending the class. Students filed past Sean as he waited for their teacher.
“Dr. Raju, I’m Sean Wells from the New York Times. I’m doing an article on climate change and need some information from you on certain aspects of controlling global warming. Do you have a few minutes?”
“The New York Times?”
Sean showed him the press credentials.
“Would I and the university be mentioned in your article?”
Sean smiled. “Certainly, if you would like. The public recognition could help both you and the university.”
Dr. Raju glanced at his watch. “I could spare a few minutes. My office is on the third floor.”
Sean followed him up the stairs. Dr. Raju’s office walls were stuffed with books and research materials. Stacks of research papers crowded the floor space, leaving a small and unsteady path between the piles. Sean sat in the only chair in front of the overloaded desk.
“Now, what is it that concerns you?” Dr. Raju asked.
“Aerial spraying to reduce heating from the sun. Ever heard of it?”
Dr. Raju grinned and nodded. “Of course. Cloud reflectivity modification and solar radiation management. The other approach is carbon dioxide reduction. Both can be used in conjunction for better results.”
Sean flipped open his small paper notebook. “So what are they spraying?” He clicked his pen, ready to write.
“Mostly sulfur-based compounds have been proposed. Sulfur scatters sunlight, thus reducing the heating effect on the surface of the planet. It amounts to creating more clouds and making existing clouds whiter.”
Sean frowned. Something that was proposed didn’t sound like a twenty-five year-long project. “I assume there’s a down side?”
Dr. Raju nodded. “Acid rain. The sulfur combines with oxygen and hydrogen to form sulfuric acid. Reducing acid rain is the reason we reduced the sulfur content of fuel oil for use in diesel engines and why coal-fired power plants require sulfur scrubbers.”
Sean shook his head. “I came from the White House where I learned they have been doing aerial spraying for the last twenty-five years. That doesn’t sound like sulfur and acid rain to me. What is really going on?”
Dr. Raju got up, walked over, and closed his office door.
“You can’t quote me or mention the university. This is an issue where publicity is seriously discouraged.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Sean thought. “I understand. What are they spraying?”
Dr. Raju sat down, took a deep breath, and looked directly into Sean’s eyes.
“A combination of aluminum and barium, converted to very small particles. The metals stay floating in the atmosphere for eight to ten weeks. The stratospheric aerosol injection program creates a light cloud cover. By spraying in the early morning, sometimes before the sun comes up, we can increase the reflectivity of th
e atmosphere and decrease the heating from solar radiation. The clouds generally dissipate by night, allowing the earth to radiate heat back out into space. The combination of the two lowers the global temperature. This is all part of the new science of geoengineering. We watch the temperature trends in various areas and apply the aerosols appropriately. If an area is in a cooling trend, we let it alone. If temperatures are climbing, we spray.”
Sean scribbled in his notebook, then looked back up at Dr. Raju. “Would I be able to see these aerosols in the sky?”
Dr. Raju shrugged. “Maybe, if you looked at just the right time. The spray disburses quickly into light clouds or a haze.”
That’s not what Patrick was indicating, he thought. Sean nodded and made some more notes. “So if you have a system that’s working to control the climate, why not tell everybody?”
Dr. Raju breathed out deeply and looked Sean straight in the eyes.
“It’s not that simple. Solar radiation management has to work hand-in-hand with carbon dioxide reduction, and we’re nowhere near close on that, yet. We need the global carbon tax in effect to cut down on carbon dioxide emissions and finance the solar radiation management costs. Eventually, the program will pay for itself. That’s the goal: a self-sustaining geoengineering program where we can control the climate worldwide.”
It always comes down to this, doesn’t it, Sean thought. “So, it comes down to money?”
“Of course. It always does. We can’t afford to keep dumping unlimited funds into a project like this. We all have to pay our fair share to save the planet.”
Sean walked down the hall deep in thought. There has to be more to this than Dr. Raju is telling me. Storms are worse now than in the recent past. But if I go back far enough, there are larger storms than we’re having now. What have the carbon dioxide levels been and how far back do the records go? Who would I even ask?