The General flipped through his files to make sure that he covered what was pertinent. “City life is so self‑absorbed and desensitized that a few alien races have crossed the line of cohabitation to blend in, but any real scientist understands the danger of altering what they seek to classify. Anomalies result when these hyper-intelligent creatures are broken by unforeseeable influence until they exhibit behavior without the balance of conscience, and our government was forced to start a Black Ops program to investigate this pattern of interruption. Human crime is pervasive enough and we do our best to hinder these aliens, but something from the darker realm always slips through.
“During the last half of the century, we employed this military installation for technology, then recent discoveries with genetic engineering gave us a new level of research and development. A few years ago, we found a damaged spacecraft in Oregon, and upon careful observation it turned out to be the same species that crashed in New Mexico in 1947. At the site we also retrieved stores of genetic reference, a library of DNA taken from animals across our galaxy. At that moment we knew that we held a key, all we had to do was decipher it. That was the first and most arduous phase of Project Harvest. We delineated the dynamic of each species with the intent of finding how they overcome certain ailments, then we singled out a handful of those genes to be created and built a zoo to raise them.”
Andronicus turned on the projector and a large hologram appeared. It was a tactical layout and schematic of Area 51, with distant hangars attached underground to the hollowed mountain. He handed tablets to the scientists, allowing them to scroll through the engineered aliens from each display. “We were diligent in extracting problem genes and altering them to survive in the pressure and atmosphere of Earth. We began by knowing that only a small percentage of the cloned creatures would provide any useful information, so we worked endlessly to analyze the genetic library, extract any relevant DNA, and engineer the animals in mock habitats to study them. The first sub-level has five sections.” The hologram turned in dimensional space to show the declassified portions of the base. An elevator shaft dipped below ground at a steep angle, leading to a laboratory of intricate construction that branched off in five directions. “In this wing, plant-life is grown. We receive most of our health focused data there. In the opposite wing, we have insects. In the third we have reptiles, the fourth is a marine habitat, and lastly we have mammals. You have to understand that these classifications are loosely based at best,” the General warned. “So don’t expect the insects to be small or the plant-life to be inanimate.”
At ground level, an emergency access corridor jutted out and curved back to the lab. “If all goes well, you can enter through this reinforced entrance and travel down, assuming that the animals haven’t gravitated there.” He scrolled through, showing a similar connection between the first and second sub‑levels separated by steel blast doors. “The crash site that provided us with this genetic library also gave us an incredible resource. The same as with Roswell, we found the bodies of three small hominids. This time, however, one was alive.” Some of the scientists sat up in their chairs as Andronicus continued. “The alien was injured, so we stored the dead ones in preservation chambers and Phase Two of Project Harvest proceeded with our study of biological forms. For the research applied on the second sub‑level, we required our top minds for analysis.”
“Human testing,” Dekker guessed. “That’s always where this leads.”
“Of course,” responded the General. “The last stage in Phase Two had a twofold purpose. On one end, we trained a group of volunteers with standards as stringent as NASA before we injected them with a fragment of the genetic structure of the alien by using a retroviral delivery system. To test the capacity of the human mind, we sought to provide a bridge between us and the advanced species. The results were horrific. We’re barely out of the jungle, and nature does not disappear from our psyches very easily. As their cognition overreached their ability to contextualize basic sense response, examination chambers became holding cells for the madness that twisted the volunteers. The second and simultaneous purpose was the re‑creation of the alien through cloning. We spliced our two species and developed hybrids of this higher order intelligence, with slight physical variations to allow better mobility as terrestrial beings. To our surprise, their cell structure caused them to age exponentially as a result of the gravity on our planet.”
“What was the purpose of them originally?” asked one of the scientists.
The General appeared to reach a classified barrier that he would not overstep for the uninitiated. “We’re pushing the human race to the next level of our evolution, and we’re doing it by taking shortcuts and manipulating mutation to bypass unnecessary progress.”
“You were messing with something that’s beyond us,” said Dekker.
Andronicus nodded. “As always, the fault is human. To insure secrecy, Area 51 is a closed core. During individual projects, no information lines travel in or out, especially not phone lines. With the computer network encrypted, our senior technicians and high‑ranking military officers were given special frequency satellite phones to connect them to ground level. For the first time in the base’s history, last week we received a distress call from the lead scientist working on Phase Two.” The General touched the panel on the hologram unit and a profile of a disheveled man appeared. “This is who we were told caused the emergency. He has a history of obsessive behavior and manic depression, but he’s one of the most brilliant minds in his field. The lead scientist who alerted us before we lost contact said that this man, Horatio Somers, was responsible for the breakdown in security. Knowing that he was prone to an unbalanced temperament, he was secluded from the beginning and never had access beyond his lab. The last message sent to us revealed that he was opening the holding cages of the volunteers.
“At that point, the limited number of personnel we kept underground became a liability. Seven days have passed and this problem, however contained it might be, has escalated beyond our knowledge. We need to begin a reconnaissance mission before chaos theory in practice ruins one of the best laboratories in the world. The army has secured the outside of this base and we have two special teams of Marines to protect you. Since the electrical systems and automatic feeding units are still operational, movement should be easy on the first sub‑level. Central control has automatically shut down, so you’ll need to enter each of the five sections separately to upload the data. Our computer storage units are heavily armored and contain all the information gathered from Project Harvest. You’ll be given non‑lethal weapons to subdue the herbivores if any wander from their enclosures, and you’re summarily authorized to destroy anything that endangers you.” Andronicus looked to the two programmers among the scientists. “Our primary goal is to override the failsafe encryption. We’ll give both of you consoles as a link to the surface for the data to be transferred directly and securely. Project Harvest was only months away from completion, this mission is to retrieve that information.
“Once all five sections have been uploaded, you’ll proceed to the second sub‑level, where Phase Two can be transmitted from a single computer.” The hologram deactivated and the image disappeared. The General then ordered in an austere tone, “Study the animals you’ll be interacting with as you get suited up. When you’re ready, Colonel Black will meet you at the blast door with his Marines. Right now, I need to speak to the computer programmers alone so we can update you on the encryption codes you’ll need. The rest of you can follow these officers to obtain your supplies.” General Andronicus offered the finality of their debriefing and the scientists were led back into the hall.
The blonde with curious eyes waited for the others to file out and introduced herself to Dekker as April Setterlund. She squeezed the laptop against her chest as if it were the buried treasure of her career and glanced at it occasionally as they were led thr
ough monotonous corridors.
Barnes surmised, “You have an unusual fascination with obscure creatures.”
“Xenobiology and cryptozoology were merely hobbies until now. We know so little about the ocean and life inside our jungles, it’s ironic that our ignorance is what stops us from searching.”
He admired the spark of her intellect. “Did that debriefing surprise you?”
“You mean did I question the unknown before?” she asked. “Human consciousness is a self-ratified tautology so weak that it can be broken by something as simple as the placebo effect. People stick to what they know and disavow the spectacular quite often, even if false limitations put upon the world sadden us the most.”
“People accept what they can handle. I don’t judge anyone for that, I’m just a hunter with extraordinary game,” he replied. “But I guess I do take a certain amount of solace in the notion that anything is possible, even when proven by the presence of unimaginable monsters. In my experience, all things are sacred but few things are divine, and my knowledge of divinity has come from my experience with women most of all.”
They came to a tunnel and the soldier standing at the controls said calmly, “Please step into the transport.” On a metallic track, an oblong car rested like a movable waiting room. As they traveled on magnetic waves, the scientists were told to brace themselves over the intercom. The tunnel was lit with equidistant bulbs to keep them out of darkness until they came to a stop in a wide room.
“Nice to meet you,” said April and her eyes lit up. “If I asked your name, would you give me a fake?”
“A man is defined by his work.”
“This all seems like a dream, doesn’t it? To be able to see these animals, to touch and smell them...”
“Animals smell like animals,” he said.
She smiled. “You know what I mean.”
“Sure I do, but who would go into a zoo where the predators roam free? Everything about this situation is unnatural.”
April spoke softly. “You mean the hybrids?”
“No, I assume they’re docile. An observer species of alien should theoretically contain an extreme form of your own scientific curiosity.”
“But what if they have the same visceral desire as well?”
She gave him a shy glance and looked away to hide her undertone when the escorting officers led them into a massive hangar. The intense quiet gave way to the discord of engineers working without concern for what was occurring in the depths of the base below them.
“I’m Dekker Barnes,” he said as they crossed the threshold. After he shook April’s hand, she held it like a little girl being taken to the circus.
A triangular aircraft was stationed at one end, where several carts were covered in reflective sheets with an illusion of transparency that shimmered like moonlight on the ocean. April was staring at the access elevator while Dekker’s eyes were fixed upon the blast door. The service corridor to the first sub‑level was open and Marines were running preliminary scans for life-forms, especially microscopic. The team leader, with short dark hair and sharp features, stood nearby as he watched the newcomers arrive like children to their first day of school.
“I’m Colonel Black,” he said in a booming voice over the sound of the humming mechanics. “You’ll find a duffel bag for each of you and a room to change into the clothes we’ve provided. We’ll be proceeding into the tunnel soon, so leave your personal belongings and I’ll meet you for a quick debriefing on the weapons you’ll be carrying.”
* * * * *
The scientists were shown to the barracks and they went into separate rooms. Along with boots they were given greyscale urban camouflage, with various electronic devices and a thin armor-plated vest. Barnes stood in his room alone, affixing his handgun to a hip holster before going through his pockets and finding an earpiece, a medkit, and an oversized watch with a tracker to monitor his movement. He scrolled through a map of the installation and found a compartment in his vest that allowed him to carry the tablet.
He finished dressing and followed the others to the corner of the facility. While sliding ammo clips into velcro slots on his shoulder, he walked beside April, who was engrossed in the natural wonders. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and gave him a nod, “You look good in uniform.”
“And you glow with the radiance of an open mind,” he commented, watching her admire the genetic library of information.
“I understand the danger we’re in,” she said. “But thank you.”
The Colonel waited for everyone to meander into the room that held their armament. He was patient with them, despite his orders. “I was told that you all had basic military training before becoming scientists in the private sector, so before we go through a quick introduction, I’ll show you what weapons were selected for this mission.” The scientists stepped closer. “Each of you will be given a standard nine millimeter MP40 sub‑machine gun with alternating hollow tip and armor piercing rounds. This is a secondary firearm and will be strapped across your backs unless necessary. We take precautions seriously, even if we’re supposed to incapacitate the animals without harming them. With the herbivores this might be reasonable, but with the predators we’ll have to wait and see. For non-lethal combat, we have voltaic rifles containing a rechargeable electro-chemical cell. With an internal sulfuric acid distillate and hydrogen converter, this weapon fires tempered waves of electrons without killing the target.
“We’ve also added a single chamber air-compression dart gun that will release a dose of a specially manufactured sleep inducing chemical. A single drop of this refined melatonin will put any biological form to rest for at least a day, regardless of its size. We have extra clips for each of you, along with utility tools, a serrated boot-knife, and a rebreather unit if my Marines need to use gas. We’ll back you up with flash and concussion grenades as well, and a net‑rifle strong enough to secure a rhinoceros. After you take a moment to collect your firearms, we’ll proceed down the access corridor to the first sub‑level. We finished our preliminary scans after opening the blast door and we’ve been assured that the path is clear. Take the time to meet each other and find out who’s an expert on what, then I’ll meet you at the entrance to the hot zone.” Colonel Black nodded to the soldiers near the door before he left.
An Iranian woman with a sad smile introduced herself as Luma Sharaz as she went from person to person, apparently a botanist with a background in fossilized plant-life. A tall redhead with hair that hung to her waist in a single braid said she was an entomologist with the Museum of Natural History in New York, her name was Amanda Evans. The biologists were Larenz and O’Neal, a meditative middle‑aged Portuguese fellow and a white-haired Irishman, with backgrounds studying reptiles and marine animals respectively. Larenz spent his time in equatorial areas cataloguing new species, while O’Neal worked for rescue operations on the west coast for the Monterrey Bay Aquarium.
Dekker walked to the two computer programmers chatting beside the group. The tall one was Zalas, a twig that a strong wind could topple. The timid one with glasses was Parker. As he shook hands with Barnes, he gave a nod towards April. “She’s an expert on rainforest biological systems. If I knew that lab geeks looked like her now, I would’ve gone into a different profession.”
“You both have the consoles Andronicus spoke about?” Dekker asked them.
Zalas nodded. “The technology they’ve entrusting us with is far beyond the consumer market. If they allowed people like us to establish their integrated network, we wouldn’t need to be here, even if the extremes of closing this base off from hackers would be immeasurable.”
“We’re going to experience creatures that go beyond what anyone can handle. You should stick together, to complete the mission only one of you is expendable.”
After Barnes walked away, Parker whispered, “The Fed’s got a sense of humor?”
; April left the group during their primary introductions and appeared to be more comfortable when Dekker was near. “So what kind of wisdom are we working with?” he asked of her impression.
She shrugged. “The same as I’ve always felt when dealing with brilliant people. Curiosity by definition is arrogant, we’re all children of the same delightful lie that we understand as much as we think we do.”
“Perhaps only perfect humility can bring us into a better world, as it has always been,” he noted. “A handful of prophets provided the ethical structures followed by all civilizations.”
“You’re a cosmic cop,” said April. “So of course you have an open mind.”
He shrugged. “It only takes a strong stomach...”
“That’s the main reason I didn’t go into medical science, I couldn’t become dispassionate about the suffering of others. I guess that’s the path that leads doctors to become coroners and medtechs, who only deal with biological organisms after the life-force has vanished. We’re so afraid of being responsible for someone’s death that we end up being surrounded by it.”
“At least you want to help,” said Dekker. “Why xenobiology and cryptozoology as hobbies, though? Do you enjoy the sound of laughter from your colleagues?”
“If what we know hasn’t saved us so far, by definition the answers must reside elsewhere. Obscure scientific fields would exist as far on the fringe as the mainstream believes if not for the repeated discoveries of animals once thought to be mythology. Speculation runs rampant in all forms of imagination, but what kind of ego would actively seek to limit their understanding of how pathetic our knowledge really is?”
The Harvest of Area 51 Page 2