Die Glocke

by M C Drake

The technician rose and quickly left the room, he turned left out of the door and passed the two expressionless security guards who were stood motionless.

  “As you must know by now Lieutenant colonel what we are about to discuss is above top secret, you will need to sign this disclosure document, you must never discuss this with anybody, ever.”

  Crichton did not look up but he nodded slowly. The document and a pen were placed in front of him and he blindly signed it.

  "Ok, we have lost contact with our scientist at Wright Patterson Air Force base; their last communication with us was thirty-four hours ago and despite our repeated attempts… we have received no response."

  The two men in black paced up and down the tiny room, “We are very concerned as we have a very important asset there and we need to know what the situation is, and as we cannot raise any members of staff at Wright Patterson we need your help.”

  Lieutenant colonel Crichton looked up; a foggy look swirled in his eyes. “How can I help you?”

  A haunting smile formed on the two men in black faces, Crichton felt a shiver pulse down his spine, there was something badly wrong with these men but he could not place his finger on it.

  “We understand you have an SR-71 based here, we need you to fly a reconnaissance flight over the base. Take a variety of pictures and then return those pictures to us straight away. The pilots are to be told it is a training mission.”

  Crichton did not respond, he just focused on the table.

  “Do you understand?”

  Crichton solemnly nodded.

  One of the men in black suits placed his hand on Crichton’s shoulder, “Good give the order. Put your best pilots on this task. We will accompany you for the full duration of this mission.”

  Crichton nodded.

  The sky was darker at the edge of space, the light blue merged into ever darker shades of blue until the area above was black and the stars were clearly visible. The two pilots were too busy checking various readouts in the cramped conditions; the pilots wore full orange colored spacesuits, at this extreme altitude every precaution was taken to keep the two men alive. The second pilot had just finished the reconnaissance equipment check.

  They were reaching a crucial part of the mission; they had to descend from eighty thousand feet to twenty-five thousand and slow down substantially from the Mach 3.2 that they were currently traveling, three times the speed of sound so that they could link up with the KC-135 air to air refueling tanker. They two pilots had done this many times but they were still nervous as the SR-71 was always a temperamental bird to refuel.

  Through careful coordination the SR-71 slide in behind the tanker and after a few tense moments they managed to connect the fuel line. The Blackbird was harder to control at lower altitudes and the pilot had to fight against the aircraft stalling, he only required one of his two afterburners to be lit.

  The refueling was as a success, Roy Love the lead pilot thanked the tanker pilot and the pushed the afterburners to full as he rose the nose and began the quick return to FL800. The sleek, slender Blackbird was as sexy as a machine could ever possibly be; Roy was proud to be associated with the SR-71 program.

  The aircraft itself was painted a dark blue, almost black color, hence its blackbird nickname. The plane looked more like a spaceship out of the wildest science fiction novel, with its slender, angled fuselage and huge engines mounted on the delta wings at the rear of the aircraft. The long arrow shape and various angles caused the blackbird to have a greatly reduced radar signature.

  Twenty minutes had elapsed since the refuel when the SR-71 reached the designated target. The two pilots got ready to complete their training mission.

  “Clear skies over target Devon.” Ray said to his co-pilot.

  “Roger that, cameras are all green, let’s get this done.”

  The blackbirds sophisticated surveillance equipment started its job; it took detailed images of the towns surrounding Wright Patterson. The images showed smoke still rising from Dayton. The pilots were concentrating hard at the job at hand.

  They moved over Wright Patterson Air Force base itself.

  “Not sure how this training benefits us.”

  “Maybe they have some new tracking system they want to test, don’t reckon this has anything to do with us Roy mate.” Devon said, his space helmet masked his smile.

  Roy chuckled.

  A slight bit of turbulence buffeted the SR-71, causing Roy to focus completely on the flying of his bird.

  “God sake Roy, I’m trying to kip back ere.” Devon said.

  Roy shook his head with a smile on his face.

  Suddenly they were rocked by another bit of turbulence but this time it was harder to keep control. Roy heard a loud clapping sound, it reminded him of thunder but it could not be, as the skies were clear for miles and he had never witnessed a storm in the stratosphere.

  Roy was thinking hard to work out what the hell was going on when a bright line of light streaked passed him, it split into several jagged directions and crackled loudly.

  "Shit, did you see that Roy is that lightning?"

  “It can’t be!” Roy responded.

  The plane lost a bit of altitude as the turbulence washed over it again, another loud clap of thunder rang out again.

  “Time to get out of here Devon.” Roy said calmly.

  The sky was still cloudless but streams of sheet lightning filled the sky, the forks split and seemed to reach out towards the blackbird, they raced towards it and exploded all around it.

  Inside the cockpit the pilots were becoming increasingly concerned, it felt like the aircraft was going to shake apart and even though they had not actually been hit by any of the lightning yet; they felt like the electricity was following them.

  “Roy?”

  “I know, this is like nothing I have ever seen before! How can it be tracking us?”

  “Devon get on to the base, if this is a new weapon they need to make it stop." Roy ordered.

  Devon thumped his control console, “All external communications are down.”

  “Fuck.” Roy said.

  Roy was thinking on his feet, he felt the shockwave from the last thunder clap and seeing as he could not accelerate away from it he decided to put the nose down and dive into the lightning, hoping to get below it.

  As the blackbird dove the two pilots could see waves of indigo light race skywards, the lightning fingers billowed outwards then impossibly swerved back in towards the aircraft, trying to consume it.

  Roy pushed hard on the control stick; the SR-71 was never designed for this type of flying, the blackbird narrowly avoided the vicious storm, he rolled the aircraft to the left, using all his experience as a fighter pilot. As the lightning streaked passed the right wing, the crackling of the superheated air washed over the aircraft, the temperature inside rose considerably; Roy began to sweat under the pressure.

  A large ball of purple light raced skywards, followed by another one and then another one until the sky was completely filled with sheet lightning and strange balls of light; they started to home in on the blackbird.

  Roy tried desperately to quickly change the direction of his aircraft, suddenly the right wing was struck by lightning, and the plane rocked as the tip of the wing erupted in a shower of sparks.

  “Shit we’re in trouble Devon.” Roy said, “I’m struggling to keep her in the air.”

  Another large fork of bright light hit the left wing, it splintered and the left engine caught fire. Power quickly dropped from the engine, warning sirens rang out in the cockpit.

  “Fire in engine two.” Devon yelled out.

  “Shut it down!” Roy shouted. He was busy trying to keep the aircraft from going into a spin.

  The balls of superheated light rushed towards the ailing blackbird, they seemed to change direction and pick up speed as they closed in. The first ball impacted on the aircraft's right wing, it exploded and was sheared clean off.

  The explosion hit the blackbird
and it started to spin wildly.

  “This is it!” Roy yelled, “I have no control.”

  Devon did not have time to respond as a further two orbs smashed into the fuselage, the cockpit section separated away from the main fuselage and started to fall earthwards. Devon struggled to look back, he saw the rear section of the aircraft detonate into hundreds of pieces, seconds later two orbs of violet light collided with the falling cockpit section; the two pilots were instantly vaporized.

  Control

  The mission control room was stunned into silence, despite repeated attempts to reestablish contact with the SR-71 mission; the crew could not be raised. The two men in black stood and took everything in from the rear of the room.

  The men in black asked for a timeline of events and exactly where the aircraft had disappeared, they were not surprised when it was estimated to be directly over Wright Patterson.

  "Thank you everyone, you have been very helpful." The right-hand man threw down a report.

  “Read this please.” They spoke in unison, “This is the official report on the events of today. The aircraft was on a routine training mission when it encountered engine problems. Despite the best efforts of the pilots the aircraft would not recover. We will conduct a thorough and detailed investigation.” The two men in black surveyed the room. “This is what you will tell the families and the inevitable press interest, as per usual there is to be no mention of the SR-71.”

  The room stayed deathly quiet, “Do you understand.” The two men said.

  Everyone in the room nodded.

  “Good.” The men in black said and then they clicked their fingers. The door behind them burst open and Airforce guards streamed in, some pointed their guns at the air force personnel while the others began removing computers and files; the records of the mission were being confiscated.

  “Thank you for your cooperation and hard work today. We know it has been tough, we will take it from here, please do not worry.” The two men in black said in a dead monotone voice. After this they closed the door and promptly disappeared.

  The mission over Wright Patterson never existed and not one person in that control room wanted to discuss the day’s events, in fact they were intimidated into silence.

  Rolling Thunder

  Brooklyn Jnr and the other navy flyboys had become increasingly bored on the long voyage home but thankfully it was now drawing to a close. In a day or two, they would be able to set foot on dry land once again.

  Brooklyn was still pining for Pamela and had become very despondent as his letters remained unanswered but he knew that Pam was on the road with other protesters. His mom had confirmed this to him in her last letter and she was sure that Pam would send her next address as soon as she knew it.

  In hard times Brooklyn Jnr always looked for guidance from his father, he lay in his bunk and talked to the only picture he had of them together, his dads beaming smile always managed to brighten his day. Brooklyn smiled and chatted to his dad as much as he could and it always strengthened his resolve, he was going to be the best he could be and keep making his dad damn proud.

  A news report flickered on the small television in the background, it was running a story about a power outage in the Dayton area and that the National Guard was being sent in as a calming presence. This was because the locals were becoming restless and some of the violent.

  The reporter changed the story to more anti-war protesters in New York, the police had intervened and fired tear gas into the crowd, this had escalated the tension and five people had been injured.

  Brooklyn paid no attention to the news broadcast and soon he fell asleep in his small bunk.

  Hawk

  The National Guard was on route to Dayton Ohio, they had been briefed that the mission was classified above top secret and they all been forced to sign non-disclosure documents. They had been told that contact in Dayton had been lost, it was probably just a power outage but they had been no contact with local law enforcement and the Commander in charge had stressed to the men that they must be ready for anything.

  The men of the National guard were fully kitted out with M-16's assault rifles and were now riding in relative style as fourteen of them were stuffed into each single turboshaft engine Bell UH-1H Iroquois 'Huey' helicopter. The two pilots were busy chatting away to their fellow Huey pilots.

  Ten of these Huey helicopters sped in low, just above the treetops at around 125 mph, they were spread out in a tight line. They were flying like they were in a live combat zone.

  “Hey Stevie, you got any idea what is going on?”

  “Not a clue bud, fucking adrenaline is pumping though!”

  "Ye-ha all we need is some rock music and this would be a helluva party!"

  Sergeant Phelps shook his head, "Will you guys shut it before I put my boot in your ass."

  The helicopters started to pick up altitude quickly.

  “ETA four minutes.” The flight leader announced, “hold on back there.” He added.

  The Huey's rose to ten thousand feet, then leveled out. The pilots scoped out the area.

  “Where is all the traffic?”

  The second pilot shrugged, “Can't see any movement, there is the odd plume of black smoke coming from the side of the road.”

  “Strange, we will stay on mission.”

  The Huey's carried on towards Dayton in their tight string formation, the chopper pilots were well versed in this tactic after having a tour of Vietnam under their belts. They checked the instruments and their bearings.

  “ETA three minutes.” The pilot said.

  A deafening bang caught the pilot off guard, and then a streak of bright purple lightning crackled less than five foot from the cockpit. The air temperature rose slightly.

  "Shit!" The co-pilot shouted, "Were we due a thunderstorm?"

  “No!.. The weather report was clear."

  Turbulence rocked the Huey's and the pilots struggled to stay in formation as further claps of thunder rocked the air stability. The third Huey in the formation housed a national news reporter and his cameraman. The film crew was present on the orders of the men in black. The cameraman was filming through the open side door.

  Another flash of powerful lightning raced skywards, like a homing missile it streaked towards the formation of American helicopters. The second chopper in the formation was hit full on its right-hand side, the pilot swore as sparks flew and a couple of the men inside were hit by the superheated energy, they fell to the floor; one screamed in agony as his arm was badly burnt. The second man was not breathing.

  Brilliant violet orbs of light flew skywards and seemed to move towards the helicopters, the pilots of the fourth helicopter in the line were too busy watching the drama unfold in front of him to notice the orbs accelerate towards them. Two orbs smashed into the belly of the helicopter, they melted the metal of the fuselage and then detonated; the chopper exploded into three parts and other pieces were completely vaporized.

  "Shit shit shit... Hawk four down, repeat Hawk four is down."

  “Fuck.”

  The command room went quiet, a technician turned to the men stood at the back of the room.

  The two men nodded to him, “Stay on mission please.” The two figures dressed in black suits declared in unison.

  The orbs continued in ever-increasing waves, lightning flashed all across the sky, thunder clapped in an almost otherworldly volume. The last clap caused the glass in the cockpit to splinter and crack in a deep spider webbed formation.

  The second Huey was hit by lightning again which seemed to act as a signal for the orbs of light to home in on, the orbs accelerated and they became a blur, seconds later they impacted on the helpless chopper. Four or five balls of superheated light smashed into it and the helicopter was instantly obliterated; all inside were completely vaporized.

  “Fuck it, Hawk flight hit the deck, I repeat aim for the deck.” Flight leader Franklin Paul shouted. He Threw the control stick forward, the Huey started to d
ive nose first' the other Huey's of Hawk flight followed suit.

  Not a single patch of the sky seemed to be clear, the helicopters looked like they were diving into hell as the sky was on fire with thousands of sparks of purple lightning spreading in all directions.

  “What the hell is this stuff?”

  “Never have seen anything like this in my life!”

  “Evasive action!” Franklin shouted.

  What seemed like hundreds of orbs of light race towards them, Hawk one and three managed to avoid the first wave but Hawk five flew head first into a streak of lightning, the cockpit burst into flames; the pilots screamed briefly before the intercom died completely.

  Franklin Paul looked over his shoulder to see the smoldering wreckage of Hawk five spinning towards the ground, the fire started to spread and several of the men inside tried to jump out of the open door.

  “Hawk one to base, we have lost three birds, repeat we have lost three birds. Permission to bug out?”

  There was a pause, “Permission denied Hawk one, get your men on the ground ASAP.”

  “This is insane.” Hawk one said.

  Another pause, “Watch your tone Hawk one, advisors to the White House themselves are listening to this.”

  The seven remaining Huey's raced towards the ground.

  "Prepare for dust off," Franklin shouted this was the signal for the men inside to get ready to exit the choppers.

  Hawk seven narrowly avoided three orbs, the co-pilot checked over his shoulder and to his disbelief, the orbs changed direction and speed towards the Huey.

  "No fucking way..." Was all the co-pilot managed to say before the orbs impacted into Hawk seven, the rear of the helicopter disintegrated, the pilots managed to cut off the communications so the others did not have to listen to the men's screams; a jagged bolt of lightning cut into the front of Hawk seven and the remnants of aircraft exploded into a hundred shard of metal that rained from the sky.

  Hawk nine had seen enough and broke from the formation, the pilot put the helicopter into full throttle; they crew tried to get to 135 mph as soon as they could. The lightning raced out towards the lone chopper in an attempt to smother it before it could escape.