by Nick Cook
A gentle hum came from beneath the cockpit and I felt a subtle shift of gravity within the craft. They must have just brought their antigravity drive online.
Don rotated a thumbwheel on his joystick slightly forward. The view of the house on his screen began to slide down as the TR-3B ascended slowly into the sky. When we’d reached a hundred feet up according to his display, Don rotated the trackball until the craft came to hovering stop. Despite the storm howling around us, we sat absolutely stationary in the sky, as stable as a mountain.
Zack toggled a switch on his control panel. The view on his screen switched to a camera pointing directly at the ground, showing the slack cables connected to the Tic Tac’s harness being blown sideways in the howling wind. Beneath us a team of workers had placed two large antigravity discs to either side of the crashed alien ship. They began glowing blue.
‘Agie plates have been activated, Archangel,’ the voice said over the speaker. ‘You are free to commence lift procedure.’
‘Roger that,’ Don replied. ‘Winding in the lifting cables now.’
Zack pressed an icon on his touchscreen and a gentle whining sound passed through the cabin as the slack in the cables was taken up. We didn’t so much shudder as the Tic Tac began to rise, soil and debris dropping away from its buried nose as it freed itself from the ground. The alien craft swung in the wind as it rose, beginning to fill the monitor view.
‘Deploying grapples,’ Zack said.
Several loud thumps came from below and two large mechanical arms rose into view. They reached out like the mandibles of a giant insect towards each side of the Tic Tac. With a slight tremor they locked on to the alien ship and it stopped swinging.
‘Big fish is secured,’ Zack said, toggling a switch. The image switched back to the forward-view camera filled with a view of swirling curtains of rain.
‘Let’s get this alien bird back to base so the techs can start playing with their new toy,’ Don said. He rolled the thumbwheel forward and the view blurred once again as we shot upwards, then he rolled the controller back and we came to a stop again.
We were hovering over a banks of storm clouds, a full moon kissing their peaks with silver light.
‘Flight altitude at fifty thousand feet,’ Zack called out.
Just like Ariel, flying a TR-3B had to be one of the most prized experiences for a pilot. There was certainly a gleam in Don’s eye as there had been in Alice’s – until she’d lost it at least.
Don pushed the right joystick forward and just like that we were speeding towards the horizon.
‘Mach eight. ETA at base in twenty-one minutes,’ Zack said.
‘Thank Christ for that,’ Don said. ‘I don’t know about you, my friend, but I need my bunk.’
‘Absolutely, bro,’ Zack replied. ‘These endless patrols are starting to wear me down. Together with that guy Alvarez sticking his nose continually into what should be Navy business. He gave me the third degree about why we didn’t manage to shoot that UFO down.’
‘Yeah, but as I said to him, that ship was as slippery as an eel swimming in extra grease,’ Don said.
‘All I know is that whoever was piloting that baby had some major skills to outfly you, bro.’
Far from looking annoyed, Don grinned at his friend. ‘Yeah, tell me about it.’
They had to be talking about Alice. What would she think if she could hear this conversation?
‘You’re lucky that Alvarez guy didn’t arrange for you to be court-martialled,’ Zack said. ‘He was practically spitting bullets at Commander Jenson about that little episode.’
‘Just as well our cover story about me never getting a line of sight held. And I trust Jenson to not throw us under the bus. Although he’s never come out and said it, you can tell he isn’t comfortable with the whole shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later approach either.’
This had to be the same flight crew we’d encountered during Ariel’s test flight. And it seemed that they really were sympathetic. My hijack attempt might go easier than I first thought. I slowed my breathing as I held my LRS, getting ready to burst out of the locker.
A sudden warbling alarm came from one of Zack’s control consoles. ‘Crap, the alien’s vital are crashing,’ he said.
‘Jesus, but there’s nothing we can do for him while he’s down in the hold,’ Don said. ‘How far out are we?’
‘Twelve minutes.’
‘Too long. I need to redline the propulsion rockets.’
‘But we’ll be in danger of blowing our reactor.’
‘Let’s just hope it doesn’t,’ Don replied.
‘OK. Heating our reactor up to Mexican-sun levels of hot.’
Don chuckled as I slumped back into the locker. Just like that everything had changed. If I tried to hijack this craft now, I’d almost certainly be signing the death warrant of the Grey. And even if I did successfully get control of the Astra, what then? There wasn’t much of a chance of finding Jack and Mike now.
And then the blindingly obvious hit me.
I hadn’t thought of the simplest option. I’d call Jack on my Sky Wire and if I couldn’t get through, I’d contact Alice for backup. As quietly as I could, I pulled the satellite phone off my belt. Cupping my hand to hide the glow of the screen so it wouldn’t show through the slits in the locker, I toggled its phone mode back on. But as I looked at the screen, the hope inside me evaporated. There were no reception bars. The cockpit was probably shielded. I had no chance of letting anyone know where I was.
Fresh despair lapped through me, as all I saw was dead ends. There was only one thing left I could try. I’d wait until we’d landed so the Grey could be saved. Then once Don and Zack had departed the TR-3B, I’d sneak outside and get reception again. Then I’d contact Eden and see if they could extract me from the shit in which I’d managed to land myself. Shit, I realised, that was entirely my own fault.
Zack raised his head after examining one of his read-out screens. ‘Reactor is redlining. This bird is ready for Mach 9 whenever you are, Don.’
‘Then let’s shoot a burner out of this Astra’s ass and see exactly what it can do,’ Don replied.
He pushed the right joystick forward hard, whilst rolling the thumbwheel over. The landscape of mountain cloudscapes blurred beneath us as the craft hurtled faster than a rocket through the night towards a slither of growing sunlight in the distance.
Chapter Twenty-One
Multiple alarms screamed from the control screens as I remained hidden in the locker. The atmosphere in the cockpit grew significantly more taut. Only single-syllable words were now being uttered between the pilots. It was pretty clear to me they were fighting to keep the TR-3B Astra flying beyond its designed speed limit. They were putting their lives on the line in a mercy dash to try to save the Grey. We might have technically been on different sides of this fight, but my respect for this flight crew grew by the moment.
‘Reversing thrusters now,’ Don said, toggling a bank of buttons.
We dropped out of Enterprise-like warp speed and a wave of G-force pressed me hard into the locker wall, even with the reduced gravity. My side aching, I peered out through the slits in the door. Don’s flight monitor showed a view from the downward-facing camera. Beyond the edges of the Tic Tac still slung to the Astra’s belly, I could see a substantial airbase below us. Its buildings were tinged with the golden light of the sunrise and cast long, standing-stone-like shadows. There was something familiar about the twin airstrip layout. One of them was wider than the other and both were very long. Where had I seen this before?
Zack wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. ‘Home sweet home.’ He toggled a few more switches. ‘Reducing reactor to fifty per cent, but we’re still on the verge of venting plasma here.’
Don nodded and pressed one of the buttons in his chair. ‘Control, we’re coming in hot. We’ll need a reception committee to cool our hide down.’
‘Understood, Archangel,’ a woman’s voice replied over the cabin
speakers. ‘Ground robotic hoses are being deployed.’
Don rotated the joystick thumbwheel backwards and the Astra raced down towards the ground. Another alarm joined the cacophony of the others as Zack began furiously pressing buttons on one of the touchscreens in front of him.
Despite my growing anxiety that we might turn into one giant fireball, I took in more details of the base as we sped downwards. There was what amounted to almost a small town of buildings to the left-hand side of the airstrips, several huge buildings that had to be hangars…and then I knew exactly where I’d seen this before. This was none other than the famed airbase of myth and legend. I’d seen it in plenty of satellite photos across UFO-conspiracy sites.
This was Area 51.
As we hurtled down at a breakneck speed, the tiny H of the landing pad grew from a speck faster than was comfortable for my liking. My stomach rose into my chest.
I made out three arching geysers of water spraying the landing pad, sending up clouds of billowing vapour.
I instinctively curled into a ball, but Don seemed perfectly chilled as the landing pad rushed up to meet us. My brain was screaming at me that we were about to smash straight into the ground like a meteorite with a death wish. But at what seemed the very last microsecond, Don spun the thumbwheel back to the neutral position. We came to a dead stop just twenty metres above the pad.
The spray from the surrounding hoses pivoted downwards to envelop the craft. It should have sounded like Niagara Falls running down the outside of the hull but there was just a soft gurgling. And then on Zack’s screen I saw why. An invisible oval sphere was surrounding the Astra like a force field. The water was running over it and not touching the craft. Just like the rain had done back at the crash site.
‘Adjusting gravity-disruption vortex field to allow emergency cooling,’ Zack said. He pressed a button on his screen.
The invisible force field disappeared and the waterfall sound I’d been expecting now thundered on to the canopy of the TR-3B. Water streamed down in torrents over the camera views, steam rising from the exterior metalwork as creaks and groans came from the ship.
‘How’s it looking?’ Don asked.
‘Reactor is cooling at three hundred kelvin, two hundred, and…yes,’ Zack said, thumping the air, ‘we’re back in the green zone.’ He slumped into his seat as all the alarms fell silent.
Don toggled the button in his seat again. ‘Thank you, Control. We needed that nice cold shower.’
The woman laughed. ‘Any time, Archangel.’ The fountains of water around the craft slowed until the water only dribbled from the spouts of the hoses. They pivoted upwards and slid back into the ground, hatches closing over them.
‘Please proceed to Hangar A,’ the woman’s voice continued. ‘The medical and tech teams are on standby.’
‘Proceeding to Hangar A,’ Don repeated. ‘And, hey, Julie, are you free for quick drink before I hit my bunk?’
The woman laughed. ‘With you, always.’
‘Then it’s a date.’ Don hit the button in the chair again.
Zack chuckled.
‘What?’
‘I’m not saying a word.’ Zack just smiled and returned his attention to his instruments.
It struck me then just how normal these guys were. In another life we’d probably be friends. Unfortunately, they were on the wrong side of this situation.
Don gently rolled the trackball a fraction forward and the craft started to float towards a massive squat concrete building, its enormous hangar doors beginning to roll back. But rather than being met by a fleet of TR-3Bs as I’d expected, all I could spot inside were fighter jets. There were a couple of Chinooks and a Learjet over to one side too, but that was it.
Two spotlights illuminated two large red circles on the floor ahead of us inside the hangar. Gathered round the first was a group in blue coveralls and on the far side a woman in a high-vis orange vest was holding two glowing batons that she gestured towards us.
Don adjusted the TR-3B’s direction a fraction and we floated towards her. As our TR-3B crossed over the centre of the circle, the woman crossed her two batons. Don immediately centred the trackball and we came to a dead stop.
‘OK, let’s lower that Tic Tac,’ Don said.
Zack nodded and pressed an icon on one of his screens. The view cut to the camera in the belly of the TR-3B that pointed down at the alien ship.
‘Releasing clamps,’ Zack said.
The robotic clamps that had been holding the Tic Tac steady opened and it swung free on the cables.
‘Now be nice and careful with that baby,’ Don said.
Zack nodded and, with the tip of his tongue pinched between his teeth, he toggled a switch downwards. With the gentlest vibration the Tic Tac began to lower towards the ground until it had settled.
‘Our alien bird is down, releasing the cables now,’ Zack said. He pressed another control and the two large hooks holding the Tic Tac released and began to reel back up into the belly of the Astra. The men and women in blue coveralls headed towards it.
Zack switched the camera on the main screen back to the forward view. The woman in the high-vis jacket had backed away to the second circle and was once again gesturing at us with her glowing sticks.
Don manoeuvred the Astra forward to hover above the middle of the next circle. ‘Commencing landing procedure…lowering landing legs.’ A whir of hydraulic actuators came from the TR-3B as it began descending towards the ground.
‘Five metres…four…three…two…’ Zack called out.
A slight shudder passed through the ship.
‘Landing confirmed,’ Don replied. ‘Shut down the GR drive.’
‘Shutting down now,’ Zack replied.
A constant quiet hum in the background stopped and I felt a slight shift in gravity.
I’d almost been hypnotised by the choreographed landing sequence, but now my brain whirled back into action. This situation was about to get serious for me – and quickly. On the plus side, the hangar doors to the outside still stood open. Slip through them and I could hopefully use my Sky Wire to contact the others.
But there were a lot of people in the hangar to get past first. I just hoped their eyes would be on the recovered Tic Tac. In theory all I needed to do was wait for Don and Zack to go and then I could slip outside. And then my plan crumbled like a badly baked cake as a siren came from outside.
I tensed, flicking the safety on my LRS, ready for anything – or so I thought. As Don and Zack continued to shut down the flight systems of the TR-3B, the view of the hangar floor started to move upwards.
What the hell?
The hangar slid away, replaced by large riveted panels sliding past. Thanks to my time in Eden I knew exactly what I was looking at. The circle we’d landed on was actually a huge lift pad. It confirmed all the rumours I’d ever heard about Area 51.
I’d read numerous articles online about there being a huge subterranean base hidden beneath the surface. That was apparently where the real action at this not so top-secret location was meant to happen – according to testimonials from people who’d blown the whistle after working there. The reports included everything from recovered UFOs to actual aliens. And stowed in the hold of this Astra was another specimen that would shortly be added to the collection.
The steel panels continued to scroll past as Don and Zack gazed at the screens and readouts, making notes on electronic tablets.
With a burst of bright artificial light we cleared the exit of the lift shaft into a large arched cavern. It was vast, at least a mile long, with steel beams that curved overhead to meet in the middle. On the floor below was a squadron of TR-3Bs that stretched away along the length of the chamber. Many were at various stages of construction, some just an open latticework of metal. They were too many to count, but the nearest thirty or so sat on raised circular pads like the one on which our Astra was now descending.
Gantries criss-crossed the enormous space. Crane units trundled al
ong them, one of which was now carrying a large green-metal case towards a TR-3B. Another of the Astras had its top section lifted up by one of the gantry cranes. A team of mechanics were working on the exposed guts of pipes and machinery round a plasma accelerator ring similar to Ariel’s.
This place was beyond a conspiracist’s wildest dreams. And it looked as if they were building enough craft down here to start a war. Did this have anything to do with the Overseers’ preparation for the coming Kimprak invasion?
Don returned the camera to the belly view and the raised circular gantry we were being lowered towards. Waiting to one side was a team in medical scrubs and masks, no doubt ready to deal with our alien passenger. The lift platform came to a shuddering halt in line with the circular gantry that ringed it and the medics rushed forward.
‘Opening the cargo bay door for the medics now…’ Zack flicked a switch and a distant whirring sound hummed through the hull. ‘Someone really needs to look at that lift motor – the vibration is getting worse,’ Zack said, shaking his head.
‘You can put it in your report,’ Don replied.
‘As though anyone will be interested, especially when they have a new alien craft to play with.’
‘Yeah, tell me about it. Anyway, how are our patient’s stats looking?’ Don asked.
Zack cast an eye over his display. ‘Crap. His BP has dropped through the floor, so he must be bleeding out.’
The team of medics that had disappeared from view beneath us reappeared a moment later pushing the sarcophagus down a ramp from the circular walkway towards an arched passageway in the wall at the end of the hangar.
Zack watched them go. ‘I hope they’re in time to save that Grey.’
I caught the face Don pulled at his friend. ‘Maybe it’s better if they don’t,’ he said. ‘We’ve both heard the rumours of what they get up to with them down here. According to several guys I know, that Alvarez guy and his team have been effectively torturing the aliens with all sorts of crazy experiments.’
Zack sighed. ‘I heard that too and I tell you it’s not right.’