The Zeta Grey War: New Recruits

by D F Capps

  This seems to be more of a distraction, she thought. How is bringing in more detail going to slow things down?

  “Become instinctively aware of every particle, each movement, and anticipate where each thing is going. See it move—feel its direction and speed, sense where it will be next and verify it is all happening in three dimensions, all around you.”

  She completed the exercise and slowly opened her eyes as he waited in silence.

  “The human mind is amazing,” he said. “A study at a university in Arizona determined that words and pictures flashed on a screen for as little as six-millionths of a second are recognized and processed by the mind, even though we don’t consciously see the image with our eyes.”

  That’s six microseconds. she thought. If that’s really true, this might actually help. “And by slowing everything down in my mind?”

  Dr. Cowen smiled. “We make our mind more aware of every detail around us, physically and spatially. As long as our eyes are open, we will see with our brain and not just our eyes. Take fifteen minutes after every simulator session and do this exercise. Re-experience your flights in exact detail and you will begin to fly your fighter craft with a precision and dexterity you cannot imagine.”

  That I will have to see for myself, she thought.

  “Thank you, Dr. Cowen. I will do the exercises.”

  He nodded. “Each week we will meet to review your results and fine tune the process.” He glanced at his watch. “Meanwhile, I have another pilot and RIO to interview. Remember to do the exercise after every simulator session.”

  “Will do.”

  Chapter 25

  President Andrews looked up as Doug Franks entered the oval office. Franks looked both satisfied and concerned at the same time.

  “We have the analysis of the hacked files from Charlie,” Franks said.

  Andrews closed the file on his desk and motioned Franks into a chair. “And?”

  “Two files. Fortunately the list of corrupted officials and crooked corporation officers is smaller than the un-co-opted file. Each list is prioritized by level of influence.” He handed the printout to Andrews and waited as the president flipped through the pages.

  “Wow! Some of these names I can see as being more interested in their own advancement, but some of them are a real shocker.”

  Farnsworth, for example, was near the top of the corrupted list. That was unsettling.

  “That’s what I thought, too,” Franks said.

  Andrews continued down the list a ways, then looked up at Franks.

  “We think of ourselves as shepherds, guiding a flock of sheep, and now we find out we’re surrounded by wolves instead.”

  Wolves, Andrews thought. These are the same kind of people who, in Tau Ceti, are removed from the population and raised in their military academy on a moon.

  “Exactly. Now what do we do?” Franks asked.

  Andrews sat with his right hand over his mouth, his index finger resting under his nose, deep in thought. He slapped his hand on the desk and said, “Two things. First we flush the wolves out of our inner circle. Once that’s done, we restructure and go after the rest.”

  Franks raised his eyebrows; apparently he expected something less drastic.

  “When do you want Charlie to leak the list to Sean Wells?”

  Andrews studied the printout for a few more seconds. This was extensive and was going to require an in-depth plan, which he currently didn’t have.

  “Let’s do that now. Wells is going to want to verify everything before he does anything else. That’ll give us a chance to get ahead of the curve.”

  When Franks left the room, Andrews walked slowly over to the window and gazed out, deep in thought. Wolves among the sheep. They seek power at the expense of others. Have I been any different? Wasn’t it my desire for power that led me to seek the presidency? The only thing that changed the course of events was my meeting with Charlie and the realization that not only are we not alone in the universe, but we are under a covert assault by an alien race. Would I have been part of the problem, through my ignorance, if it weren’t for someone sharing highly restricted information with me? Am I capable of doing what needs to be done to save our world?

  He walked back to his desk and opened the small drawer on the top right. He retrieved the personal letter from the previous president, which had been waiting for him on his desk the day he was sworn in. He reread the letter, as he had numerous times since then. The advice wasn’t political or partisan, but spoke of the soul-searching that must be done if he were to become an effective leader. “Your mind can be deceived,” the advice said. “If you are to lead, it must be done through your heart. If your heart and soul are not in what you do, only failure can come of it. Whatever path you choose to pursue, send your heart there first. If it is at peace in that place, then commit everything you are, have, and do to make that destination a reality.”

  Chapter 26

  Conrad Kaplan stood in front of the two-story-tall glass window complex that formed the south wall of the great room of his log and stone mansion in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Large flakes of snow fluttered down in a lazy zigzag pattern, illumined in the night by the light radiating from his mountain get-away. He took another sip of Bourbon and turned to greet his most recent arrival.

  Senator Roger Whitcolm, chairman of the powerful Senate Armed Services Committee was the last to arrive. Secretary of Defense Oliver Farnsworth sat on the plush couch, slowly puffing on his cigar, while Speaker of the House Joel Metzner stood in front of the blazing fireplace, warming his backside. U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Ruth Poulton slowly paced the perimeter of the room.

  “If you haven’t officially met, I assume you are all familiar with Irwin Gould.”

  “Only by reputation,” Whitcolm said, shaking the man’s hand. “I believe I know your son, Ira, a VP at Malthus Investment Bank. Very astute young man.”

  Gould smiled at the compliment. “Yes, thank you.”

  Kaplan cleared his throat. “Shall we get down to business? Where are we on Bob Harper?”

  Whitcolm nodded and took a seat. “The vice president is fully committed to the cause. We made sure Harper was on the ticket with Andrews just in case we needed a change in leadership. Andrews is well liked and was the most electable candidate in the presidential field, so we backed him as long as he went along for the ride.”

  Always have a plan for every contingency, Kaplan reminded himself.

  “Andrews is under control?”

  Farnsworth set his cigar down in the ashtray.

  “He’s been cooperating with the program so far,” Farnsworth said. “I don’t see any reason for that to change.”

  Kaplan took another sip of his drink, mulling things over.

  “If you are not aware, after our demonstration of nuclear weapons in Japan in 1945, President Truman ordered General Eisenhower to come up with a plan to use nuclear weapons on Russia, and then to use Russia as a platform to defeat China. Russia was, and still is, considered the critical pivot point.”

  He paced in front of them, much as a university professor might do. He liked that image of himself.

  “The problem was an effective delivery system. Russia was so large we couldn’t fly our bombers over land to get on target without refueling or being shot down.”

  He took another sip of his drink.

  “The race-to-space between the U.S and Russia was about the development of inter-continental ballistic missiles capable of delivering nuclear warheads half way around the world.”

  He paused and faced the group so they didn’t miss the point.

  “We came in second, in case you missed it.”

  He turned and continued his pacing.

  “That morphed into the Cold War and a nuclear standoff with mutually assured destruction. The collapse of the Soviet Union changed the dynamics of that standoff, giving us the advantage we needed in our quest for full spectrum dominance. History has selected us as the inevi
table dominating force on the planet, and I intend to see that selection through to its successful conclusion.”

  He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass on the bar.

  “The recent rise of Russia under their new president is troubling and poses a direct threat to our influence and status as the world’s only superpower. We cannot allow this threat to materialize or to continue its growth. Russian power is a cancer in the world that must be removed.”

  He grinned, full of self-satisfaction.

  “I am pleased to report that we will soon have a one hundred percent effective anti-ballistic missile system that can be launched from the border of Russia, eliminating the threat of ICBM retaliation. This is the last step before we neutralize Russia and coerce China into full submission.”

  Seventy years of planning and preparation, he thought, and finally Truman’s vision of a unified world under U.S. direction and influence was coming within our grasp.

  “This development will not only make us the preeminent military force on the planet, but it will elevate our commercial corporations to world dominance, opening the entire Russian and Chinese markets to us and our control. With the fall of the Russian and Chinese governments, their businesses will also fall to us. We will own the world market for everything.”

  What a rush, he thought, to be an instrumental part in making it all happen.

  “I have brought Irwin Gould into the Partnership so his banking family will become the world’s largest and most dominant financial organization in the history of the world. Each of you is currently in a position of power and influence within the United States. I am about to transform your positions from national to global. I just need to be assured that each of you knows your role and responsibilities.”

  Irwin Gould sat forward on the seat. “I will guarantee the private funding for our plan. With leveraged buyouts of ownership in natural resources and infrastructure, as we’re doing in Ukraine, members of the Partnership will acquire these assets for a penny or two on the dollar.”

  Kaplan nodded and looked at Farnsworth.

  “President Andrews has followed our lead,” Farnsworth said. “He has ordered an extensive increase in the number of cruise missiles based on our nuclear powered submarines. He believes the warheads are conventional in nature. I have taken the liberty of upgrading those warheads to full thermonuclear status. Because of Russia’s ten phased-array antenna facilities, we can no longer use ICBMs or space-based warheads without having them destroyed before they get to their targets. Only cruise missiles, skimming under the radar system, are an effective means of attack.”

  Kaplan gave him a knowing nod. “Initial targets?”

  Farnsworth moved forward on the soft couch.

  “Military bases, ICBM silos, and the phased array antenna systems. Once those are neutralized, we can use our ICBMs to finish the job.”

  Kaplan stopped and looked straight at Farnsworth.

  “If Andrews believes the cruise missiles are conventional, how are you going to issue the nuclear arming codes?”

  Farnsworth smiled. “Andrews will be incapacitated. Harper will authorize the nuclear option.”

  Kaplan nodded. Farnsworth was good. He thought things through and had a plan for contingencies. He liked people with initiative.

  He turned to Whitcolm. “Funding for the military?”

  Whitcolm grinned and leaned forward.

  “I will make sure Congress provides the funding for our great armed services,” Whitcolm said. “With the increased tension in Ukraine and Syria, plus the expanded terrorist activities, it’s an easy sell.”

  Kaplan plopped two ice cubes into his glass and added some more Bourbon.

  “Sanctions?”

  He turned to face Ruth Poulton.

  “President Andrews has supported sanctions against Russia and I am pushing those through the U.N.,” Ruth said. “I will also use our Security Council veto power to prevent the U.N. from limiting our future actions.”

  Last piece of the plan, Kaplan thought, as he faced Metzner.

  “We have the votes in the House to expand the trade agreements to legalize the takeover of Russian and Chinese businesses,” Metzner said. “Part of the legislation is already in place as subsections of existing trade agreements. We just need to add connecting phraseology in the new trade bill to vastly expand the interpretation. No one will connect the dots before everything is in place.”

  Conrad Kaplan raised his glass into the air. “To the world, under our control.”

  Chapter 27

  Sean Wells was going through a paper entitled “Solar Radiation Management by Stratospheric Aerosol Injection” online when he was interrupted by a knock on his hotel room door. He closed his laptop and looked through the peephole lens in the door. The guy standing in the hall was tall, and on the thin side, with light sandy hair and light brown skin. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and didn’t seem to be particularly dangerous, so Sean opened the door.

  “Mr. Wells, my name is Charlie. I have some information that I think you’ll find interesting.”

  Okay, Sean thought, another citizen in search of money for information.

  “You have a last name, Charlie?”

  Charlie paused, calmly gazing at Sean. “I need to remain anonymous.”

  Sean studied him for a moment. “How did you come by the information you have?”

  Charlie glanced around at the hotel room in back of Sean.

  “I can’t really explain that to you at this point.”

  Sean smiled. Another version of the shuck and jive routine. How original! “So the information is either entirely bogus or it was obtained illegally.”

  Charlie smiled at him. “I’m prepared to let you be the judge of whether the information is real or, as you say, bogus. I’m confident you will find it interesting, either way.”

  Fair enough, Sean thought. Now for the bottom line. “How much?”

  Charlie glanced up and down the hallway.

  “Money?” Charlie said. “I have no need for money. Let’s say the information is being provided in the interest of the good of society.”

  Sean tipped his head and grinned. “So you’re a whistleblower?”

  Charlie gazed at him again. “Yes, a whistleblower.”

  Uh-huh. We’ll see. “Who do you work for?”

  The hint of a smile played across Charlie’s face.

  “I don’t work for anybody, at least no one I can discuss with you.”

  Probably not true, Sean thought. But what else did I expect?

  Charlie grinned at him again. So what did he find so amusing?

  “So who did you work for?”

  This feels a little more like mental fencing and less like a negotiation, Sean thought.

  “Mr. Wells, if you’re not interested in the information, I understand. I won’t waste any more of your time.”

  Charlie turned to leave.

  “Hey, Charlie? Look kid, I just want to know the background, the history, where the information came from, who had possession of it. That helps me evaluate the importance of what you have.”

  Charlie turned slowly to face Sean.

  “Oh, I think that will be self-evident.”

  Sean glanced up and down the hotel hallway. No one else was there.

  “Okay, come on in. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got.”

  Charlie sat patiently as Sean scanned through the files on the USB drive for the next two hours. Most of the documents were official reports on FBI and NSA letterhead, all signed, dated, and file-stamped by the Office of Personnel Management. Some of them were a condensed analysis of the corruption and illegal dealings of people in very high positions of power and authority, all with the associated evidence trail and the supporting documents, including financial records.

  The OPM hacking story, Sean thought. These are the files. “When do I get the rest of it? These files have been scrubbed.”

  Charlie gazed at Sean in t
he same relaxed manner. “The code word operations.”

  The kid caught on fast. “Yes. That’s what ties everything together.”

  Charlie nodded. “That will require a certain level of trust, which has not yet been developed.”

  Sean smiled. This kid was good. “So how much is the rest of the information going to cost me?”

  Charlie smiled. “Trust cannot be purchased, Mr. Wells. It has to be earned.”

  That was refreshing, Sean thought. Maybe he means it.

  “Everybody has an agenda, kid. What’s yours?”

  Charlie’s expression turned serious. “Let’s leave the details for a while, until you can fully appreciate my motives. For now, I can tell you my motivation is compassion with an element of revenge. Will that suffice?”

  “For now.”

  * * *

  As soon as Charlie left, Sean called his editor.

  “I just got a ton of documents dumped in my lap. We’re talking corruption and illegal activities at the highest levels of government, defense contractors, and international corporations. It’s all here—well most of it’s here. I have evidence, document trails, investigations, financial transfers, bank statements—the whole nine yards. I just need time to verify everything.”

  It was hard to contain his excitement for a story like this.

  “What about the global warming story?” Ed asked.

  He can’t be serious. “You can forget about that. This is important.”

  Here was that pregnant pause he hated so much. Why did editors always do that?

  “Unfortunately, I can’t forget about it. Global warming is the general manager’s pet dog and you’re my only pit bull.”

  Sean shook his head. The dog-eat-dog analogy again.

  “So, you don’t want the new story?”

  Sean closed his eyes and waited.

  “Don’t pull that crap with me, Wells. I want both stories. Now find a way to make that happen.”

  Sean looked at the receiver in his hand. He hung up on me again. Well, I guess some things will never change.