The Nexus Colony

by G. F. Schreader

  It was back in Nakon Phenom several months later when Korbett happened to recognize Abbott in one of the officer’s hooch bars on base. A life-long friendship was struck over a still-refuted number of Phillipino beers. Abbott was a young Lieutenant then. He retired as a full Colonel working for Delta Force. Now he was a special field agent working for External Anomalous Affairs. Korbett got sucked into the political shuffle for a few years before showing up in the Department as a head strategist. They instantly renewed a lost friendship. But each one knew that their roles came first.

  Must be pretty damn important, Abbott thought, to bring me back from South America. The Department had spent a lot of time and effort to prepare Abbott for the project down there. Evidently, something more important had come up or else Bill Korbett wouldn’t have recalled him. The man had a lot of power in the Department. The communiqué—direct from the embassy in Rio—had come in the middle of the night. It said:

  DEAL CLOSED. NICE WORK. HURRY HOME - NKP.

  It was simple code. Get your ass back to Washington ASAP. The signature, NKP, was the designation the Air Force had used for the air base in Nakon Phenom. Korbett always used it whenever he sent communiqués to Abbott. That way Abbott knew it was Korbett he’d been assigned to.

  Abbott hadn’t talked directly to General Korbett for close to a year now. Time flies when you get older, Abbott remembered someone saying. Turning left up the road toward where the sentry had directed him, Abbott rounded the bend to see a huge, impressive vacation-type mansion come into view. It was surrounded by woods, and Abbott could see the stone and wrought iron fence disappearing into the towering trees that he presumed went all around the perimeter. At the entrance gate stood two more beautifully structured stone pillars. Four more sentries—two of whom kept their weapons trained on him—quickly came out of nowhere to meet him. Two checked him out. Abbott had to get out of the car and stand in front a video camera that he hadn’t noticed when he drove up. So much for lax security, Abbott thought.

  “Let him in,” a mechanical voice said from a hidden speaker somewhere behind the pillar. One officer pointed up the walkway toward the front door of the house. As Abbott was being escorted by two of the armed guards, he heard his car being driven away. They left him at the front door and walked away. When nobody opened it after a few moments, Abbott turned the knob and stepped through the doorway.

  He was standing in the foyer for about a minute before he heard the familiar voice emanating from down the hall around the corner. Then Korbett stepped into view. He was dressed in military uniform, which wasn’t unusual. Abbott knew immediately that the project must include some military personnel.

  Same old smile. Same old grip as strong as a vice, Abbott thought. A brief embrace, and Korbett slapped his friend on the back. “Good to see you, Marsh.”

  “It’s good to see you, Bill,” he replied. Abbott always called him by his first name whenever they were out of earshot of the bureaucratic clientele. Military protocol expected giving way to rank and file. At those times, Abbott called him General, which was what you were expected to do. Korbett could have cared less how Abbott addressed him otherwise.

  They walked down the long hallway, Korbett keeping a firm grip on the nape of Abbott’s neck, the sincerest gesture anyone could get from Bill Korbett. Abbott asked about Emmy—she was doing just fine—and they talked briefly about how things were going in general. God, he’s still one strong S.O.B. Abbott thought, feeling the power in the man’s hands.

  “Have you kept up with your Arctic survival?” Korbett asked in a surprising change of conversation.

  Abbott glanced at the General, and he had that expression on his face that Abbott had always described to him as a shit-eating grin. For some reason, Abbott sensed that this whole project was going to have something to do with this response. Maybe everything. This was why he had been brought back suddenly from South America. “Sure,” Abbott replied. “Why not?”

  Korbett chuckled. Abbott knew that expression, too. Boy, have I got something for you to do.

  “Good,” the General responded. “That’s good. Because you’re going to need it.”

  “Not much different than other survival training, Bill. You know that,” he said, fishing for more immediate information.

  “How’re you getting along with Gerry Prall these days?” Korbett asked, and Abbott subconsciously responded with body language, slowing his pace. Korbett could feel the muscles tense in Abbott’s neck. That’s why he had held his grip for so long. Abbott realized it. Korbett released his hold and folded his arms behind his back, keeping the pace slower.

  As they continued to walk, Korbett remained silent, waiting to hear how Abbott was going to respond.

  Then the pace resumed. Abbott chose his words carefully. “You don’t work with people, Bill. You work with levels of expertise to achieve mission objectives. It never mattered to me. You know that.”

  The General liked the answer. He didn’t like Colonel Gerald Prall any more than Marsh Abbott did. The bastard was known as Nuke ‘em Gerry. It fit his personality and Korbett didn’t like that type of person working on his projects. But Korbett stood firm when he responded back to Abbott. It was a General responding, and Abbott knew that. “I agree, Marsh. As long as we maintain that understanding, this project should go well.”

  Abbott did not respond. Korbett stopped and turned to face him, the expression on his face turned to one of unyielding resolution. “You agree. Right?”

  Abbott sighed. “Yes, sir. I agree.”

  Korbett patted him on the shoulder, the amiable smile returning. “Good. Now let’s go meet the rest of the people you’ll be working with.”

  Abbott thought how quickly the conversation had gone from small talk to Gerry Prall, whom Abbott disdained. That son-of-a-bitch almost got me killed…, but Abbott forced himself to push that aside for now. He was a professional. If he was here assigned to the project, Korbett must have a good reason. He’d defer to that.

  Korbett wasn’t feeling much different than Abbott about Nuke ‘em Gerry Prall, but unfortunately Korbett was stuck with him. Korbett had fired off the field team roster within an hour after reading the Operation Rookery project assignment two days ago. Borden and Renninger were “bumped” from the roster by Ted Payne’s people for no given reason. When Korbett threw a fit about replacing his people with the likes of Prall and this other guy, Major Donnie Monroe, whom Korbett didn’t know, Ted Payne got nasty. He gave Korbett an official reprimand. Prall was going to be on the field team, period. Korbett knew it was because Payne owed somebody a favor. Korbett also knew that Prall had participated in a number of cold region projects, but so had the people Korbett selected.

  “This guy and Marsh Abbott hate each other’s guts,” he had tried to convince Ted Payne.

  “Then have them kiss and make up,” Payne had responded. Korbett had wasted his time trying to convince Payne that Borden and Renninger were the better men.

  When Korbett had departed Payne’s office, he had considered requesting to be removed from the project. But he knew he couldn’t do it. The whole damn thing was too intriguing. And here Korbett was now, telling his most trusted subordinate that the man would have to go into the field with the person he despised the most and accompany him to the most remote region on the planet on top of that.

  Abbott wasn’t demonstrative at all about his emotions. But Korbett knew that underneath the crusty exterior, the man was fuming. Before they entered the room, Korbett hesitated in front of the closed door. He spun and looked Abbott directly in the eyes. “I did everything I could, Marsh. It was supposed to be Borden. They pulled rank on me.”

  Abbott already knew that. Korbett didn’t even have to say it, but it probably made him feel better by letting it out. Oh, well, Abbott thought. “We’ll work it out, Bill. This must be one hell of an important assignment.”

  Before Korbett opened the door, he looked sternly at Abbott. “It is.”

  The room was larg
e, furnished in a country motif, and it looked comfortable with all the plush lounge chairs and cushy sofas. The far wall was all brick, and a fire roared throwing more warmth into the room. A heavy oak conference table was positioned in the center of the room. There were six sealed packets spread around in front of the six chairs. There were four other men already there. He and Korbett made six.

  Abbott looked around at the other men. Two he knew. Colonel Prall and another man—presumably his subordinate—sat in the lounging chairs off to his left. The other man, an Army Major, nodded to Abbott. He was small in stature, but Abbott could tell the guy was tough as nails. Prall simply cast a cold stare, no acknowledgment.

  The other two men had been standing near the fire drinking coffee, obviously discussing something that had consumed their undivided attention. They finally noticed that Abbott and the General had entered the room. Abbott already knew Al Lisk very well. He had been Lisk’s commanding officer for five years. Lisk smiled back at his old friend.

  Whatever reservations Abbott might have had, they dissipated quickly. Abbott still wasn’t quite sure what his role was going to be, but he now knew it had something to do with high tech stuff. Like Abbott, Lisk was a former Blue Beret from a bygone era. He was the best in the force when it came to technology and computers. Korbett quietly pondered over the fact that there was no youth in this room. But there was one hell of load of intellect and physical stamina.

  Korbett escorted Abbott around the room to make the formal introductions. Though awkward, Prall and Abbott at least acknowledged each other, more so for Korbett’s sake, though they were sure he knew it. The Major’s name was Donnie Monroe. He didn’t say anything, but shook Abbott’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip. The other man’s name was Peter Almshouse, and Abbott sensed that he was going to like the man from the start. He seemed to have a very amiable disposition.

  “Gentlemen,” Korbett said, the introductions quickly over. “Down to business. Please be seated.”

  They all knew the protocol. Positioning themselves in front of the briefing packets, they waited for the General to begin.

  “Break your seals, please,” Korbett said, to which they all reacted in unison.

  Abbott read the first page inside the folder.

  OPERATION ROOKERY. TOP SECRET NEXUS.

  He began reading the rest of the document.

  For the next ten minutes, the men read in silence. The document was similar to the dispatch Korbett had received two days earlier, except the mission objective was elaborated upon to a greater extent. While they read, Korbett readied the laptop and lowered the screen from the ceiling. It was obvious to Abbott that the General had a number of reconnaissance photos. As he read further into the document, Abbott’s interest was piqued. So, he thought. Alien artifacts. We’re going looking for aliens at the south pole. That’s what Bill meant by Arctic survival.

  When they had all finished, Korbett said, “First, let me brief you on why each of you have been chosen for the field team.”

  Korbett went around the table beginning with Abbott. “Colonel Abbott will be the team leader.” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. Abbott knew it was for effect and to let Prall know in no uncertain terms that he, Abbott, was the commanding officer. Korbett continued. “In his demise, Al Lisk will assume that responsibility.”

  Korbett intentionally did not refer to Lisk’s military ranking, which was Lieutenant Colonel, one rank below Prall. It brought a visible frown of disapproval on Prall’s face, but Korbett looked him straight in the eye and said, “Mr. Lisk will fall next in the chain of command for one very good reason. This is a scientific research mission, not a military operation. As long as it remains as such, the chain of command will be as such.” Which was bullshit, and Prall knew Korbett knew it. Korbett expected that to change when Prall made a few phone calls. But in the meantime…

  He paused for a moment. Prall was unmoved. Korbett continued, “Colonel Prall…you and Major Monroe have been assigned to this mission for logistical support should the need arise. I fully expect that both of you will defer to Colonel Abbott in all matters that will affect the outcome of the mission objective.” Korbett didn’t have to add, Do you understand?

  Prall’s face still remained expressionless. Abbott looked at him. The mutual dislike between these men went back a long way. Air Force and Army Special Forces personnel never got along anyway, but this went far beyond that. Delta Force meant nothing, either. This was purely personal, and went all the way back to Central America, and even before that on a mission to Sakhalin Island back in the 70’s. But it was pointless to dwell on it. Abbott turned his full attention back to the General.

  “…Colonel Abbott, in the event any of you do not already know, has participated in a number of other projects with extraterrestrial implications. I’ve determined that experience to be invaluable. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here yet, gentlemen, and the Department feels more comfortable with Colonel Abbott at the helm since he’s had some experience with crash retrievals.” Korbett paused for a moment. His words, as always, carried finality.

  “Mr. Lisk will provide the necessary technical expertise,” Korbett continued. “AR-1 evidently is some sort of control box, but as of now, we still don’t have the faintest clue as to what it controls. If we…you, find a craft, no doubt we’ll find some pretty sophisticated technology. Mr. Lisk…,” Korbett nodded, “…is remotely familiar with some of the previously retrieved gadgetry.”

  Lisk nodded agreement.

  “And by the way, Al,” Korbett said aside, “when we’re done here, they’re going to give you an additional briefing on everything they’ve found out so far in case you stumble onto something new.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lisk responded.

  “Mr. Almshouse,” Korbett continued again, pausing and smiling at the man. Abbott sensed that General Korbett liked the individual as well. “Peter works for one of my colleagues here on the U.S. team. Peter hasn’t participated in field activities before to this degree, but I’m certain you all will take very good care of him. Dr. Almshouse is a historian by profession, but his real expertise lies in the fields of exobiology and archaeo-astronomy. Specifically, he has been studying artifacts for years, as limited as they are. I think it’s quite obvious why I’ve chosen Peter.”

  “Colonel Prall and Major Monroe,” Korbett said, pausing. “Your primary responsibility will lie in maintaining security in the event the team finds anything that may jeopardize national security. Gentlemen, I do not think you need further elaboration.” Korbett placed his hands on the table. “Are there any questions at this point?”

  Abbott asked what was undoubtedly on everyone’s mind. “Who else is going out in the field with us?” None of them knew anything about trekking in Antarctica, and the prospect was disquieting even to the survival experts at the table. It was downright frightening to Peter Almshouse who hated cold weather anyway.

  “My next topic, Marsh,” Korbett replied. “We’ve got on retainer the lead mountaineer at McMurdo Station. Just for your information, about half of the population of McMurdo is support personnel who work for an outfit called Antarctic Support Systems. They’re under contract to the National Science Foundation which runs the scientific show at the base. Actually on the whole continent for the United States. This fellow’s a German by birth, but very Americanized, they tell me. Name’s Michael Ruger. Been working for the NSF for several years. Real outdoor rugged type. They say he’s the best. More importantly, he’s the fellow who was guiding the team that found the artifacts. As a matter of fact, it was Ruger who found the box.”

  “Is he cleared?” Prall asked, referring to whether the man had a security clearance.

  “No,” Korbett answered bluntly. “We don’t have much of a choice but to take him along.”

  Prall leaned forward. “Can he be trusted?”

  Korbett, obviously annoyed at Prall’s brashness, leaned toward him. “That’s not your concern, Colonel
Prall. I’ll take the responsibility for that.”

  Prall leaned back. “Yes, sir.”

  “And don’t worry, gentlemen,” Korbett continued. “On the plane ride over you’ll be getting a crash course review on polar survival.”

  Almshouse was visibly relieved, and it brought a smile to his face.

  “The NSF,” the General continued, “has become a minor problem. As you read in your brief, they’ve taken issue over the whole thing. They didn’t take kindly to being relieved of the artifacts. They’re insisting that this Dr. Hilliard Grimes, along with his associates, accompany us back out into the field. Of course, I’m still fighting that battle…”

  “General,” Abbott interrupted, “just how much of this project has already been compromised?”

  Korbett sighed, leaned back in the chair. Abbott knew that whenever Bill Korbett began to stroke his mustache he was in a dilemma. “That’s the problem, Marsh,” he replied. “We don’t know. We’re fairly confident that they aren’t aware that AR-1 is an electronic device, but…”

  “…that’s the least of our worries,” Almshouse responded. Abbott sensed he was thinking right along the lines.

  “What were you going to say, Peter?” Korbett said, gesturing.

  “Well, correct me if I’m out of line, but it seems to me that in remote assignments, everybody always knows everybody’s business.”

  Korbett agreed, “I don’t presently have any facts to support my concern, but I presume that by now, every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the Antarctica continent knows something about the artifacts.”

  “He’s right,” Al Lisk said. “Word travels fast in remote areas. Up in Elmendorf they could tell you the date and time when each WAF had her period or took a shower.”

  “Al’s right, General,” Abbott responded. “I presume McMurdo is no different.”

  “Agreed,” Korbett reluctantly replied.