Dire Mission 494k4y

Dire Mission

Fredric Allan Wheatley

Copyright © 2014 Fredric Allan Wheatley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-0942-0 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4808-0940-6 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-4808-0941-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014913448

Archway Publishing rev. date: 08/25/2014

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Epilogue

I want to thank my beloved family and friends, past and present, for the many kindnesses and assistance they have provided me over the years, as I have traveled these many highways. I certainly could not have reached this stage in my life without them. To them, particularly my wife, Linda, my sons, Matthew and Paul, their families, and my step daughter, Lori, I gladly dedicate this book.

I also want to thank the professional staff at Archway Publishing for their assistance in publishing this novel. Their fine editorial staff revealed the many ways in which a writer can perfect his or her craft.

Like the main character, Peter Harrigan, in the book, I have had only a ing interest in stories about “aliens from outer space,” including the many movies and TV series over the years depicting such things. While they may have provided many hours of enjoyment in the theaters and living rooms, few of them were really taken seriously, as most people simply went about their daily lives.

I have always been interested, however, in the many mysteries of the universe and have endeavored to keep up with the constant revelations provided by those scientists dedicated to advancing man’s knowledge and the valorous efforts of those brave souls who have risked their lives venturing into what has to be the most hazardous of environments, in order to put into play the dreams that man entertains whenever he glances into the night sky.

When I started out writing this book, I sensed that there was something inside, some expression, that wanted to come out. At that stage, I really had no idea what it was. The book wrote itself, basically, after the first chapter. While writing, I realized, perhaps for the first time, that I was engaged in writing something spiritual as well as something concrete, in of providing a finished manuscript.

In the end, I believe that I simply expressed my belief in the essence and miracle of life and all that it has to endure in order to exist and persevere, wherever it may find itself in our universe. Perhaps, over the years, I spent too much time gazing at the stars … and dreaming.

Chapter 1

Thursday morning, June 10

I t was midmorning, and the man had been hiking for several hours, having gotten up well before dawn to be in place to see the rising sun illuminate the painted rocks. Now, the desert was really starting to heat up. The only living creatures to be seen moving about in the baking wilderness were the man and his dog, Chance, and they were heading back to the truck and then home to the air conditioning. Despite the challenge of the heat, the arid conditions, and the rugged terrain—or perhaps because of them—the desert called the man back time and time again, always marveling at how beautiful its starkness could be. As an archaeologist and anthropologist, photographer and painter, Peter Harrigan tried valiantly to unlock its secrets through scientific research and by endeavoring to capture its wonder and beauty on film and canvas. Thankfully, there were enough times when he felt that he had succeeded in all aspects. And others agreed. He was the successful author of many books and articles on the history of the American Southwest, he lectured frequently at various colleges and universities on the West Coast, and his photographs and paintings were on display in numerous museums and in the homes of those who could afford his works. He and Chance were rounding an outcropping of rock and trees when he noticed up ahead what appeared to be an animal of some sort, rooting on the ground near a clump of brush. Its actions were intense and deliberate as it apparently tried to dislodge something that was underneath the brush. There seemed to be a mixture of sound coming from that way—the growling of the animal and something else, almost human-sounding but not quite. Curious, Peter approached further. As he did, he began to catch just a glimpse of the thing that might have been making that sound, the object of the animal’s attention and frustration, just as Chance took off in that direction.

Alarmed, Peter yelled out for his dog to stop and immediately followed after him. It was not like Chance to leave his master’s side like that. The closer he got to the clump of brush, the more the object appeared to be that of a young child, and the more the animal appeared to be a coyote. As he ran faster to catch up to Chance, it became apparent that the German shepherd and the coyote, which had noticed Chance’s approach and had started to run away, were destined to collide. Peter was suddenly worried that there might be more coyotes in the area. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent any of it, Peter headed toward the child to see if it was all right, wondering what in the world a young child would be doing out in the desert by itself. He did not notice any other human activity nearby. He was, also, fearful that the coyote had had more than enough time to do some real damage. Chance would have to take care himself, at least for the moment. As Peter neared the brush, he slowed down, concerned about what he was going to find. Behind him, he could hear the first sounds of the between Chance and the coyote. Peter was torn between wanting to go to the aid of his dog and helping what was probably going to be a severely injured child. He had yet to form an answer as to why this child was abandoned in the desert. Peter arrived at the site of the attack and was immediately stopped in his tracks. What he saw trying to crawl under the brush was not a child, at least not in the human sense, but a ‘creature’ of a different sort. The head and body appeared to be like that of a young child, with the head disproportionately larger than the body, but all else was decidedly different. The skin color was a pale gray and appeared wrinkled. What appeared to be hands and feet were long, thin, and ted, with the tips of the ‘fingers’ also disproportionately larger. As it continued to struggle for cover, its head turned in Peter’s direction. The creature was probably trying to assess its chance of ultimately escaping the attack. When it saw Peter, it stopped its efforts and just looked at him. It was then that Peter got a good look at the creature’s face. Over the years, he had generally had limited interest in things to do with “alien” creatures and UFOs. He had seen artists’ illustrations of what these creatures supposedly looked like, based on descriptions by persons purportedly captured and whisked away into space for horrible physical examinations. As a scientist, he had generally dismissed such reports over the years as either

ravings of the demented or attempts for someone’s fifteen minutes of fame. Now, everything that Peter had ever seen or heard about these aliens from outer space was staring at him from under the clump of brush. The creature still had not moved. Its large, oval-shaped eyes continued to look at Peter unblinkingly. Peter noticed two slanted openings below the eyes that no doubt were its nose and the small horizontal slit below the nose that was probably its mouth. Again, he thought how this alien being looked very similar to all of those drawings over the years. It appeared to be no more than three to four feet tall; its arms and legs were thin, without the appearance of much muscular strength. Not knowing what else to do, Peter started to slowly walk toward the creature. When he did, the creature became wary and seemed to tense up, ready to move. Peter stopped; the creature seemed to relax—that is, until Chance suddenly arrived on the scene from his encounter with the coyote. The creature immediately began to crawl further under the brush, making noises that seemed to be a combination of fear and pain. It obviously equated Chance with the same kind of threat to its safety as the coyote had posed earlier. Peter called out to Chance. The dog came over to him and obeyed his master’s command to sit. Peter noticed that the dog did not seem to be any the worse for wear. There were no visible marks of any kind. He was truly grateful that Chance apparently had not gotten into a vicious fight with the coyote, despite the growling and snarling, and had been able to safely return. Now, Peter’s attention returned to “it,” the thing that had been the object of the coyote attack and that was now cowering farther into the base of the clump of brush. Its movement had stopped; it was lying quietly. Peter thought that he could see signs of breathing, but he couldn’t be certain. After all that had occurred, it was possible that the creature was seriously injured and in danger of dying. After telling Chance to stay, Peter slowly continued forward. This time, the creature did not move, which further convinced Peter that it was probably gravely injured and becoming weaker. He thought that he could notice evidence of injury. There seemed to be marks on its body, possibly bite marks, and something shiny appeared on its side. The closer he got, the more it appeared to be a liquid that was flowing from an open wound. He suspected that it could be

blood, but its color was definitely not red. The creature then slowly turned its face turned toward Peter. It opened its mouth and made a quiet sound, not unlike a whimper, and lifted one of it arm-like limbs. As Peter got closer, it did not attempt to move farther away from him. It lay there with the limb outstretched, its eyes fixed on Peter. Peter had to get down on his hands and knees and crawl to get to where the creature was lying. Once by its side, he noticed for the first time that what had at first appeared to be a grayish skin color was actually a material of some sort—a uniform, perhaps. That would explain the “wrinkled” appearance he had noticed earlier. Its skin, however, was still gray, although a lighter color and smooth, like a baby’s. What Peter thought earlier were bite marks on the creature’s body were spots where the material was ripped, exposing actual cuts and tears in the skin beneath that were “bleeding” a greenish-appearing liquid. As he continued to examine the creature’s body, he noticed that one of the legs appeared to be bent at an unusual angle. When he attempted to touch the leg, the creature moved abruptly and make a louder moaning sound. Just as the impact of what had happened was starting to settle in, and just as Peter was starting to think about what he could possibly do to be of any real help, Chance started to growl, at first softly and slowly and then with increased intensity. Peter looked back toward his beloved dog to tell him to be quiet. As he did, he was confronted with something that had been in the back of his mind all along but had not, until now, been acknowledged. Just as earlier he had been worried about whether or not there were more coyotes, because they usually travel in packs, he also had thought about—at least subconsciously—the possibility of more of these “visitors” being around. Now, here they were—at least five that he could quickly count. They stood about twenty feet away, equidistant between Chance and him. Four of them were the spitting image of the injured creature near him. The remaining one was … well, the first mental image of this fifth creature that immediately came to Peter was that of a ‘Klingon,’ an imaginary creature from the vintage TV series Star Trek, except that this creature was very real and was standing absolutely still as it looked at Peter. His immediate inclination was to make a run for it with Chance, in the hope that the aliens would not pursue but would remain behind to assist their comrade. But he was mesmerized by the Klingon-appearing creature; he remained still himself, and the moment to flee was lost.

The most telling aspect of its physical appearance were the serpent-like eyes that seemed to convey a lack of any emotion and that were focused on him unflinchingly. It had the same slanted openings for a nose, but then the openings became a part of a beak-like mouth. All of this was capped off with what appeared to be scales that covered the face. This one was noticeably taller than the others as well, by at least two or three feet, and much stronger-appearing. It had well-muscled arms that ended in what looked to be claw-like hands. The tightness of its uniform revealed again what seemed to be a scale-like texture of the body. All of the creatures walked erect on two legs, a factor that Peter had accepted at first without thinking about it but now considered it as somehow important, along with the realization that his initial reactions based on their appearance were spot-on, for he really had to be in the presence of those dreaded “aliens from outer space.” And he and Chance were alone with them, far from any human intervention. The injured creature beside him again uttered moaning sounds, this time more loudly. Its mouth was moving, as if trying to speak, and its face, as far as Peter could determine, seemed to have a pained expression. It kept changing its gaze from Peter to the others that had just appeared. Peter looked back toward the other aliens with alarm, not knowing what to say or do. He noticed that Chance had quietly moved closer to him but still maintained a distance off to the side from the rest of the alien crew. They did not appear concerned about the dog, as they looked intently in the direction of their fallen comrade. Deciding that someone, or “something,” had to take some sort of action, Peter slowly rose and faced the others. Not certain how to best begin, he motioned toward the injured creature as he spoke to its crew . “I know that you probably can’t understand anything I’m saying, but …” He paused. What now? he thought. How do I go about trying to help out, if that’s possible, while at the same time trying to get Chance and me out of this predicament? What are these creatures doing here in the first place? Does anybody else on the planet know? And how in the hell can I even begin to communicate with them? After several seconds, Peter bent down again and turned to take off the backpack that he had been carrying all this time. He opened it, took out a polyester jacket, and laid the jacket on the ground. Next, he looked around for any dead branches from the brush that might be on the ground. He noticed several that might be of

use, thinking that the injured alien probably did not weigh much, and slowly walked over and picked them up. Approaching a little nearer to the group of aliens and holding the jacket and branches, he attempted to explain, while mimicking the actions, what he intended to do. “We need to construct a stretcher to carry your friend,” he said. “He has a broken leg, I think.” With that, Peter took two of the larger dead branches and laid them side by side about three feet apart. Then, he laid his jacket across the braches and started to roll up the jacket on each branch to form a carrying device. Next, he walked over to the injured creature, pointed toward its leg and, turning toward the alien group, made a bone-breaking motion with his hands. With somewhat dramatic gestures, Peter then pretended to lift it up in his arms, carry it over to the makeshift stretcher, and lay it down. Finally, he acted out a lifting motion of the stretcher and started to walk away. He turned toward the assembled creatures and waited for some kind of response. As he did, the true aspect of this situation began to take on a more chilling, ominous form. His thoughts again centered around who these creatures were and what they might want. Where in the world (make that the universe!) had they come from? However, he began to fear that they might intend to hurt him and Chance in some way. And what was he doing, thinking that he could, in fact, make them understand anything that he was attempting to say or do? Finishing that thought, Peter was surprised when the Klingon creature began to walk toward his injured comrade, stopped part of the way there, and then looked down at Peter’s attempt to make a stretcher. It motioned almost imperceptibly toward the rest of its crew and made a distinct clicking sound; they moved in unison to follow him. They all assembled in front of their fallen comrade and began to gently remove it from beneath the brush. As they did, it let out the loudest sound yet. One of the creatures took out a long, shiny object and appeared to touch it to the arm of the injured member. Immediately, it stopped moving or making a sound. As the group approached Peter’s makeshift stretcher with their injured crewmember, its leg now secured from any movement, he quickly moved to make sure that the jacket was securely rolled onto each of the long branches. He hoped that once on the stretcher, the weight of the alien creature would assure

that the rolled-up jacket would stay in place while it was being carried. Peter could not be sure of exactly what he was hearing, but there seemed to be very quiet, almost murmuring sounds emanating from the various as they lay the injured one down. Then, they all stood up. The injured creature was now lying comfortably. The Klingon creature stood at the head to the stretcher, with the others standing along the sides. Peter had moved away and was standing near Chance. Remarkably, the dog had been lying quietly off to the side for most of the time but now had gotten up, expecting, no doubt, that all of the creatures assembled were moving out. In fact, no one was moving. Peter glanced toward the leader of the crew and discovered that the creature was looking over toward him. It suddenly dawned on Peter that maybe they didn’t understand what the stretcher was all about. None of the aliens made any attempt to lift the stretcher, let alone walk away, carrying it. With Chance by his side this time, Peter walked over to the Klingon. Trying to figure out what he could possible say to get things going, Peter again made a series of lifting motions that tried to mimic how the aliens would lift the stretcher together with their “arms” and carry it off. As he did so, the of the alien crew bent down to grab hold of the branches that had the jacket wrapped around them. Peter was then concerned that they all might not lift it at the same time without dropping it or without allowing the injured creature to fall off. He turned toward them, holding up his hands, and said, “You need to lift the stretcher at the same time.” After he said that, he counted out “One, two, three” and then made a lifting motion with his arms that encomed the full stretcher. He bent down, motioning to them to do the same, and watched as they grabbed the stretcher. He counted again to three and made the lifting motion with his hands and arms. The alien crew slowly lifted the stretcher and stood holding it. Everything seemed to be secure. The jacket did not unravel from the branches. The injured creature seemed to be resting comfortably. And everyone stood looking at Peter, as if saying, “What now?” Peter looked at Klingon and shrugged, trying to indicate that the direction in which they moved depended on where they, the aliens, had to go. And that

depended on where they had originally come from earlier in the day. Their camp? Their spaceship? What had they been doing that brought them out here in the first place and that had led to one of them being attacked by a wild animal? What were they doing on this planet, period? Peter began walking in a direction that would take them toward some low-lying hills in the distance, where his vehicle happened to be parked, thinking that the aliens had to be camped out somewhere that made some sense, and the hills offered the only possible protection that he could see. Chance ran to him. Peter looked around to see if the alien crew was following. He saw that they were and that the injured one appeared to be lying quietly on the stretcher, perhaps still oblivious to what was happening. Klingon suddenly appeared, walking next to Peter. Peter noticed that as the alien leader ed Chance, it slowly tried to reach out to touch the animal. Chance, however, would have nothing to do with the advance. The dog quickly moved to avoid any and was soon crowding Peter on his opposite side. Peter tried to indicate that his pet was just wary of the strangeness of the moment. He stopped and bent down to pet the dog. As he did, he motioned for Klingon to do the same, as he gently held Chance to reassure him. The alien creature gently touched the animal and again made the clicking sound. Chance was not reassured; the dog barely tolerated the and then moved away. “Give it some time,” Peter said to the alien, pointing to the dog. “He’s really a friendly animal, once he gets to know you.” He didn’t expect the creature to understand what he had just said, but he hoped that the tone of his voice carried some of the intended meaning. After walking for nearly an hour, Peter noticed that the hills appeared somewhat closer. Maybe another hour would get them there, although he still wasn’t sure that the hills represented anything notable in this saga. He was still assuming that the aliens had to have a base of operations somewhere, and the hills, again, seemed the logical choice. At least none of the strange visitors had made any objections to walking in this direction. It occurred to him, however, that he hadn’t really noticed any specific kind of communication between the alien leader and the rest of the troops. There had been the clicking sounds occasionally that the Klingon had made and the murmuring sounds that the ETs had made but nothing to indicate an ongoing

mode of communications between them. Peter decided to find out what was going on with that. He turned to the leader. “Can you understand what I am saying?” he asked the alien. He looked for some response that would indicate something in that regard, but nothing like that occurred. The leader just looked at Peter and continued walking. “Can you hear me?” Peter asked, pointing to the alien and then to his ears. It dawned on him that he should see if the creature actually had ears, in the human way of thinking. He glanced at the side to the alien’s head to see if it might have something akin to where humans had ears. It was then that he noticed a slight outcropping of bone or skin on each side of the leader’s head that was partially covered with the scale-like feature that he had observed earlier. Not knowing if they were, in fact, for hearing, Peter repeated his earlier question. “Can you hear me?” he asked. “Can you understand me when I talk?” This time, Peter pointed to the alien’s head as he spoke. Klingon hesitated for a second and then reached for an object connected to what appeared to be a belt, something that Peter had not noticed before. Out of the container, the alien removed an object that at first reminded Peter of the outlandishly large cell phones of the eighties. Klingon attached the object to a hook-like device on his chest and appeared to punch a few buttons, followed by a continuous clicking sound. Shortly after the clicking began, Peter heard the following words: “I can hear you,” a metallic-sounding voice said. “I can understand you.” The voice seemed to come from the device hanging on Klingon and certainly did not sound human; it seemed detached and distant. “We have been studying your languages for many of your years. We can understand you; we cannot speak your languages, however. We must use the translator to communicate in other languages.” “Okay,” Peter replied, “at least we can communicate. How about the rest of your crew? Can they understand me and communicate with me as well?” As Peter finished asking his question, he realized that they had stopped walking during the short time that he and Klingon had been communicating. The alien crew carrying their injured comrade were standing behind them in the hot desert sun, appearing to be in some distress after their time in the harsh

surroundings. The temperature had risen to the mid-nineties and still was climbing. Peter looked quickly around for Chance and found the dog patiently standing beside him, panting loudly. The hills that they had been walking toward were now quite close, though Peter could still not see any indication of an alien presence up ahead among the hills and arroyos “So far, only AKARs are authorized to use translators.” replied Klingon to Peter’s previous question. “That is to limit the possibility of unnecessary and confusion with outside life forms.” “You mentioned a word that sounded like ‘a-k-a-r-s.’” Peter pronounced the word phonetically as best he could, based on what he heard coming from the translator device. He wasn’t so sure how to necessarily spell it, but at this point it didn’t really matter. “What’s an ‘akars’?” “I think that you would call them captains or commanders of your ships or vessels … or homeland,” it said without hesitation. “Only those of the First Order can be designated as an AKAR. An AKAR is one who is destined to lead, to show the way to those not in the First Order. It is an honor to serve the Council and the homeland in that capacity.” Peter was not so sure how to proceed with the direction the conversation was taking. He could only guess as to the implications of not being in the First Order, but he had a pretty good idea As the group started to walk toward the nearing hills, Peter again thought about the implications of the unfolding events of the morning. He looked at his watch; actually, it was now officially afternoon. “Okay, I have a few more questions, if that’s all right?” Peter asked. Klingon did not indicate if it was or wasn’t. “First, what are you and your crew doing here, both in this part of space and here on Earth, our planet? Second, why can’t I see some indication up ahead of your ship, where you landed, or of any activity?” Klingon continued walking and looking ahead. Some time ed before the clicking sound began again. “Our civilization has been exploring what you call the Milky Way galaxy for hundreds of thousands of your Earth years. Particularly, we have been interested in the consequences of a collision that has been occurring between the Milky Way galaxy and another smaller galaxy over a period of hundreds of millions of years. We actually started observing it when

we were last in this vicinity, several hundreds of thousands of years ago. It also is having an impact in our sector of the galaxy as well. “These types of intergalactic collisions occur with some frequency throughout the universe. One of the consequences, of course, is that collisions occur between various planet-size and smaller objects in the many solar systems, such as your own, as the interaction of the galaxies progresses. In the end, the larger galaxy—the Milky Way, in this case—will usually end up absorbing the smaller, dwarf galaxy. Obviously, the probability of such occurrences are of interest to us, as collisions of those magnitudes would undoubtedly not be survivable to the civilizations involved.” “You are saying that this ‘collision’ is ongoing and has been for millions of years?” Peter interrupted. “I can’t imagine such a thing happening. How could anything survive in that case?” “In the case of your planet,” Klingon answered, “it almost did not survive, based on information that we have gathered. A small, planet-like object from the smaller galaxy did, indeed, collide with your planet long ago, sending out an enormous amount of debris that went into orbit around it and eventually formed your moon. Collisions between planets and suns during this phenomenon have been occurring on a regular basis, adding to the creation of new suns and the formation of additional solar systems. Such collisions are actually an integral part of the life cycle of the universe as a whole. Without them, much of the original energy created when the universe first formed would have been dissipated by now into the farther reaches of the universe, and we would be alive in a much more desolate place, if alive at all. “And so, to answer your first question, we are here in your sector of the galaxy in continuation of our research and exploration concerning the continued interaction of the two galaxies. We are here in the vicinity of your solar system as a part of that exploration and on your planet because our vessel has developed a problem that will not allow us to continue to operate at a high enough speed to span the vast distances required. In fact, at this point, we cannot even return to our planet or, for that matter, to any of our way stations.” When Peter heard that, he stopped suddenly and looked first at Klingon and then back at the individuals in his crew. The realization of the scope of their dilemma and the impact on events to follow left him numb and struggling for a suitable

response. But none came. “As to your second question about not seeing any evidence so far that would indicate our presence, look around you,” Klingon said. Peter did just that, but all he saw was the same pattern of desert landscape that drew him back time and time again because of its simple and haunting beauty, and the same terrain that they had been walking for the last several hours. They finally had made it to the hills and the arroyos carved out by rains and winds over vast amounts of time. Apparently, his earlier guess as to where the aliens had their camp was correct, but he could not make out anything that would even begin to indicate where that would or could be. “All right, I give up,” Peter replied. “Try not to look for anything in particular,” Klingon said. “Rather, let it find you.” Peter almost expected a smile to appear on Klingon’s face, as if they were playing a game here, and Klingon was the game master. He wondered briefly if the creature could smile or if indeed it had any concept of humor. “Keep in mind,” Klingon went on, “that what you see is only the result of reflection of light off of objects. If that reflection is in any way disrupted or distorted, then the object cannot be detected, or it will be seen but in a distorted way. We have developed the means of what you might call cloaking or disguising ourselves, by simply replacing the frequencies with which light would normally reflect off objects under certain conditions with the frequencies of other substances in their place. The effect is to make the brain ‘see’ what it would expect to see under normal circumstances. As long as the brain is happy in that regard, then reality can be whatever we want it to be.” Peter looked around again, this time with Klingon’s words hovering in his brain. On the one hand, given what the alien had just indicated, something nearby was not what it visually and mentally appeared to be. But what? The brain was processing it correctly, as far as it was concerned, except that it was processing an artificial reality. On the other hand, if he suspected what the artificial reality might be, such as an alien spaceship and somewhat of an encampment about it, then he should be able to “see” through the manipulation to the reality. Sort of like seeing the truth embedded in a lie. Clearly, it was a case of matter over

mind. So Peter tried to relax both his mind and body, hoping to see the truth revealed. He also had to keep in mind Klingon’s words: “let it find you.” He was about to it his failure when something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. What was it, exactly? Perhaps a slight shift in light or pattern; the makeup of the hillside suddenly changing in tone and texture but only for a brief second and then back. But then, suddenly, back again! And then reality! His mind at last captured what was really happening, and the truth did indeed set him free—at least for that brief time. One of the hills was not a hill—imagine that! Of course! When is a hill not a hill? When it’s a spaceship! It had been there all the time. No doubt for Klingon and crew, it had been in sight all along, because they knew it was there, so their reality was never clouded by trickery. The next reality check came almost immediately. When is a spaceship a truly large spaceship? When it’s as big as a hill! Klingon clicked something, Peter thought, into the translator device. As Peter continued to look in the direction of the spaceship, to maintain his grip on this new reality as much as anything else, he noticed a portion of it moved, which momentarily caused him to lose some of that grip. His mind temporarily began to drift back and forth, trying to figure out if the hatch-like opening that was expanding was doing so in the side of a hill or a spaceship. For a time, the two mental constructs overlapped, causing a sense of unbalance. The feeling eased, however, and Peter noticed the hatch continuing to move outward and downward from what was definitely a spaceship. As it did, Klingon and the ship’s crew moved beyond where Peter was standing, with Chance still by his side, toward the ship. Still mesmerized by the apparent size of the vessel, he at last noticed the crew approaching the opening. Not knowing what else to do under the circumstance, he moved toward them. The crew, still carrying their wounded comrade, entered the ship. Klingon stood just outside, watching Peter and the dog approach. “Thank you for helping to save one of our ,” Klingon said. “The

member was sent out with some others on an exploration mission and for some reason got separated from the rest. I will have to look into how that occurred. In any event, it probably would not have survived the attack of that predator if you had not intervened when you did.” “You’re welcome,” Peter answered. “I have to it that all of this is still somewhat of a shock, to say the least. I mean, I really didn’t know what was going on when I got involved—and still don’t, for that matter. If it hadn’t been for Chance, here, chasing that coyote away, it might have ended up killing your crew member before I could have gotten to it in time. Then, if you and your crew hadn’t shown up when you did, I wouldn’t have known what to do with him.” Or “it,” he thought. Peter felt a little uncomfortable at that moment. He had not thought at all about gender. Were the crew male or female, at least as humans would think about it? For that matter, what would—or could—he really call these alien creatures, other than alien … and creatures? Not knowing what else to do or say, Peter remained silent. The hatch to the spaceship was still open. Klingon remained standing at the entrance, looking in Peter’s direction. The alien seemed to be a little uncertain as to what was going to occur next. Was it going to simply wish Peter well and go inside? Was Peter going to say something like, “No problem at all,” and walk away with Chance to their nearby vehicle? Could this chance encounter between earthling and alien just end, as if it had not occurred at all? Not likely. It was obvious that the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in this outdoor space was the fact that the encounter was not supposed to have happened at all. According to the rules of this game of space exploration hide-and-seek, the alien intruders would have remained undetected behind their cloaking devices, and the resident earthlings would have remained oblivious to their presence, yet suspicious of their existence nonetheless. Now, at least for these actors in the drama, that had changed.

Chapter 2

“S o what are you going to do, now?” Peter asked. He had to broach the subject. The spaceship was damaged somehow, according to Klingon, and could not return its crew home, wherever that was. That meant that the crew was … what? Stranded here on Earth? Not much of a resolution to their problem and the more far-reaching consequences for all concerned—that much was certain. Klingon’s simple response was not what Peter could have suspected. “What do you suggest?” it asked. “I am an archaeologist and anthropologist,” Peter replied. “I spend most of my time exploring this barren terrain, trying to understand the geological and human history of its formation, going back many millions of years, of course. I also teach and write on those subjects. When not doing that, I dabble in the photography and painting of the same types of natural desert scenes that we’ve been walking in these past few hours. I know nothing about what your problem might be or how to go about helping you correct it. I know little about astronomy or space, beyond watching the launches of our space shuttles from time to time. I’m sorry; if I could do anything to help you, if I even knew where to begin, I would do it.” Klingon stood looking at Peter, saying nothing and showing no indication of moving toward the still-open hatch. Peter, though, felt that the creature was desperate to say something … but what? “You don’t know what to do either, do you?” Peter asked. “You’re stuck here, heaven knows how far away from wherever your home is, with a broken-down ship that needs repair and probably no way to repair it yourself. Is that about right?” “Yes, that is correct,” Klingon replied after a moment’s hesitation. “We sent out a message some time ago to our nearest way station, but it is far enough away that any help for us is highly improbable for some time to come. What has failed

us has never occurred on any of our vessels during all of our explorations throughout the galaxy over a time frame you can only imagine. We have not heard back from the way station, but it is too soon for that. In the meantime, we have to find some way to merely survive. “We are, of course, prepared to remain hidden and undetected during our stay. We took all precautions to do so, but now that has changed, at least for the moment. Our presence being known will most certainly complicate matters, both for us and for your planet. It is not what any of us are prepared for.” Now, Peter realized their immense dilemma even more. These creatures perhaps felt their extreme vulnerability for the first time ever. Having conquered space travel long ago and having extensively explored the heavens without, presumably, ever having been stranded on alien soil, they must feel utterly lost and alone, assuming that they could or did experience such feelings. “What exactly has broken down, and what will it take to repair it?” Peter asked. “We have a device onboard that acts to orient and stabilize the ship, particularly at high interstellar speeds,” Klingon answered. “It’s imperative to create an artificial platform that provides the ship with a constant sense of orientation in a universe in which there is no up or down, left or right. Those concepts do not exist in a universe that is infinite in all directions. Also, without this stabilized platform, travel at near light speed is out of the question, as the ship runs the risk of tumbling out of control as it reacts to the pull of constant variations in gravity from celestial bodies and the necessary correctional navigation instructions. The platform is essential because it automatically allows the ship to return to its programmed, stabilized position, crucial for accurate navigation and safe operations. “As for repairs, the device must be removed from its position. Next to the propulsion system, the stabilizer platform is the most essential element onboard. Its development was critical in building our capacity for far-reaching space exploration. That development, along with other technological advances required for travel across vast distances, took what would be many thousands of your centuries to complete. Under the circumstances we face here, repair would be impossible.” With that, Klingon appeared to start for the open hatch but then paused. “Once

you leave here, with your friend”—he motioned toward Chance, who had been lying in the shade of a nearby cactus and some large rocks—“do not come back. We will leave before the next day. We cannot remain any longer, with the risk that additional exposure to this planet’s population will bring. To do so would violate interstellar policy for our program.” “But what will you do, if you can’t get back to your home base?” asked Peter, surprised by the absurdity of departing if the spaceship could not survive the journey at high speeds. “We realize every time we venture out that there is that remote possibility of not returning,” Klingon replied, “even though, as I mentioned earlier, nothing like our current dilemma has ever occurred previously. In any event, we will go as quickly as we can back to the nearest way station. We will not be able to make it there, of course; there simply will not be enough time to cover that distance at reduced speed. But maybe we can intercept a vessel that they have sent out to rescue us. If that occurs, we will transfer the ship’s personnel to that ship and destroy this one.” “That’s taking quite a chance, if you ask me,” Peter replied, more forcefully than he really intended. “You know, we have a space program, too. It’s not nearly to the point that yours is, but speaking of technology, we’ve developed enough with materials and manufacturing that we might be able to help you repair your spaceship, at least so you’ll stand a fair chance of making it back, rather than none at all. What you’re proposing sounds more like suicide than a reasonable chance for success. And what do you have to lose? You said that you won’t be able to make it to the way station, that you’ll be counting on a rendezvous with another spaceship that maybe they will send out.” Klingon appeared to be nodding his head, perhaps in agreement with what Peter had just said or perhaps just in contemplation of his circumstances overall and the chances of success or failure. The creature looked out toward the vastness of the desert and then through the hatch, into the depth of the spaceship. “I asked you earlier what you would recommend,” Klingon replied, “and you said that you did not know, that you were only an archaeologist, teacher, and writer. Now, you are trying to convince me that the answer to our problem might lie here, on your planet, through your space program, which is in its infancy, and your developing technology.

“We know about your attempts at space exploration and space travel over the years. When we first visited this portion of the galaxy long ago and first encountered your planet and your primitive life-forms, many of you were still living in the ground—in caves, I believe you call them. Others were living primitively in your forests and plains, chasing other life-forms for food and clothing. We realized at the time that continued development of your species would be prolonged, haphazard, and therefore, unpredictable. “I do not know why I am going to say this, but perhaps you should know. In order to assure your ability to evolve to a higher order, to be able to survive through all of the obstacles and uncertainties, we introduced many of our genetic strengths into your biological makeup. In other words, over the rather prolonged time that we were among your very early ancestors, we programmed them so that they would able to evolve slowly into what you, in fact, have become—a species with the ability to eventually travel to the stars. “You have come a long way in that development, but that we had already been traveling through space, had already developed many of the technologies still in use today at the time of our earlier visitations, many hundreds of thousands of years ago. You, on the other hand, have vast stretches of time ahead of you before you can even begin to approach our capabilities to build and operate interstellar spacecraft. What makes you think that, should we remain here, your civilization could come close to replicating the equipment that we would need? “And that is not taking into consideration other aspects of the situation, such as the fact that the subject of aliens from outer space is mostly a matter of your collective imagination and speculation. What happens when it becomes a matter of stark reality? How do you—no, how do we—deal with it then? Not only do new technologies have to be developed in a short time span but in the midst of that, your entire civilization has to learn to accommodate the idea that we do, in fact, exist, and that we indeed are here. “Assuming that what you propose has a chance—a slim chance—of working out, how do you propose to go about it? And what can you possibly do? After all, you are only an archaeologist!” “Okay, okay!” Peter replied, feeling for the first time inept and inconsequential in the face of this reality. His intentions were good enough; he really did want to

help. But Klingon was right. There was so much to overcome and probably not a lot of time for everything to come out just right for there to be a successful end. What, for instance, would happen when the media got hold of the story? What chance would there be for keeping events under control then? And the government—the military—would, no doubt, want to do just that! Any attempt to provide assistance to these ultimate illegal aliens would immediately start to unravel, as various interests would compete to control all outcomes. And what about Klingon’s revelation about the earlier visitations of aliens and the genetic programming of our ancient ancestors? That could cause a firestorm by itself, if it ever was made public. “It’s hard to explain exactly what the problem areas might be,” Peter continued, “although you seem to have a good grasp of the overall human and technical ones. Knowledge of your existence and your presence here could—no, would— cause problems. Once our media—newspapers, television, that sort of thing—get hold of this story, they will become very demanding and will shortly begin to feel that they own the story and control events. “It will be almost impossible to maintain any secrecy when it comes to the planning and development of the huge effort to complete the necessary repairs to your craft, an effort that would, no doubt, have to involve the input from various governments and industries around the world. The public, the media, government, industry—they would all want to own a piece of the action, if you can follow that line of thinking. Is this something that you have to put up with in your world, or should I say, your part of the universe?” Peter asked. “Not exactly,” ‘Klingon’ said, looking and sounding now almost resigned to a fate, either here or there, that did not sound good. “Do we have differences to resolve within the galaxies and among the planets and civilizations? Do we have those who try to gain ascendancy in order to control and influence events? Of course. The difference is that there is the Council that decides what will or will not be done. There is no chance of events getting out of control. The Council represents all competing interests; those interests have the opportunity to present their positions to the Council on a continuous basis and in great detail. No one interest can try to or does control all matters, because only the Council has the power to order things done or not done. Eventually, every deliberative and representative body throughout the Sphere of Influence will have a chance to send its AKARs to either sit on the Council or advise it. It is an honor.”

At this juncture, Peter knew that something had to be tried or else an opportunity for both this world and the world, or worlds, of these alien creatures would be lost. As Klingon was talking about how events would be handled where it came from, an idea formed in Peter’s mind. If it succeeded, then perhaps a Council similar to what Klingon had referred to could be established that would allow for a mostly quiet and orderly process, leading to the repair of the spacecraft as quickly as possible, given the limitations of existing technologies and the vagaries of human nature. “Again, I don’t think that you have much choice,” Peter said. “In all probability, you lose if you decide to depart with the stabilizer, I think you called it, inoperative. If it can’t be repaired here on Earth within a reasonable time frame, then you can always decide to leave. Now, I don’t know and can’t really say what would be a reasonable amount of time, but I think that you should be willing to give it at least enough time to get the ball rolling, as we say here on Earth. That means enough time to at least assess the probability of accomplishing a fix here. “Now, I may be only an archaeologist, but I do know a few people who have connections to those who may be able to help. One of them just happens to be my brother, who has worked for NASA, our space program, for years. He’s one of the reasons that I even watched the launchings of the space shuttles over the years. Another is one of my fraternity brothers from college. He can probably be an even bigger help, since he’s worked for too many years in Washington, DC, which is, as you may know, the capital of my country, the United States of America. He knows just about everyone who is anyone in that town. If anyone can steer us to the decision makers in our Congress, our military, and our corporations, he can, or he knows who can. “There are others, including a highly placed officer in the army, who knows my brother from the early NASA days. They will all be of help, at least in the short term. All I’m asking is that you postpone an immediate departure—let’s say two weeks in Earth time—to give me time to some of these people and get an idea of just how to get things started. “This will no doubt start slowly, because I have to be careful, initially, introducing this whole unearthly subject to unsuspecting people. For instance, I’m going to have to come up with some sort of evidence of your existence and do it in such a way that I will be convincing, without starting a panic, in order to

develop an understanding and for your plight.” Klingon continued to stand by the spacecraft’s hatch, looking at Peter with what appeared to be a noncommittal face, if indeed the creature was capable of that. The alien looked through the hatch into the interior of the craft. It seemed to be thinking and no doubt weighing the pros and cons of what Peter had just proposed. It turned back to face the human whose presence, under the circumstances, posed either a continued threat to the mission or its ultimate salvation. Then, Peter sensed distinctly that a decision had been made. “I agree,” the alien creature answered. “If you are to be successful convincing these others to even try to help in whatever way, then you are going to have to know precisely what is wrong with our craft. To do that, you are going to have to see for yourself. But know that until you have achieved some progress toward discovering if there is any possibility of a repair of our ship, you must assure me that our position and the exact nature of our vulnerability will only be revealed on an as-needed basis. I cannot risk that sort of disclosure to just anyone. You must know implicitly that you can trust those in whom you will be confiding. “There will be enough risk remaining here with the stabilizer disabled, waiting for a possible repair, if that is what we will do, without having to confront the unknown of your resident population gone crazy beforehand with knowledge of our existence. I will come up with something, an object, that you will to allowed to display to those you know and trust that will help you prove that we are here and are seeking help. I will count on your discretion in exactly how you approach this matter. Is that understood?” Peter knew that what Klingon had just said was the key to everything. When he first thought of his plan, he knew that confidences would be critical. He had to be able to implicitly trust anyone in whom he confided with this kind of sensitive information—assuming, of course, that he could convince them of the believability of his outlandish story of aliens from another planet right here among us—a tale repeated many times over the years by various, suspicious characters! He then would have to be able to trust them to keep the confidence. He also knew that he would have to provide them with some sort of proof almost immediately in order for them to take any of this seriously. For that, he was going to need something from the spaceship, something that would be undeniably alien to anyone seeing it and holding it.

But there was no doubt as to whom would be placed most at risk. The creature continuing to look at him was the one putting everything on the line. Peter was concerned about people he knew maintaining a secret, as outlandish as it was, without exploiting it to their advantage. The impetus would be to break the story, to get that fifteen minutes of fame, to write the book, appear on television, or get the movie deal. For Klingon, the dark side of such an untimely revelation could be catastrophic for his entire crew and have implications that would be literally universal. “I understand,” Peter assured the commander. “I will do my best to protect you and your crew. But we’re going to have to be willing to take at least some small chance initially, by confiding in others who can help put together our own council of decision makers. This is, no doubt, going to end up being a very large operation that requires the cooperation of entire governments and industries.” “Then we had better get started.” With that, Klingon proceeded through the hatch and into the alien spacecraft. Peter started in behind the creature but then paused. He had to do something with Chance, still patiently lying in the shade of the cactus nearby. He had no way of knowing if the commander would appreciate the animal in his ship, but he wasn’t going to risk it. He walked over to where the dog was lying and took out a leash from his backpack. “Sorry, boy, I won’t be long.” Peter put the leash around Chance’s neck and secured it to one of the large rocks. He patted the dog to assure him and then followed Klingon into the spaceship.

Chapter 3

A fter Peter entered through the hatch, he found himself in a pressurized, doublehulled entrance space. There was another open hatch, he noticed, about six to eight feet in front, leading, no doubt, to the interior part of the ship. He could see Klingon standing just inside that hatch, with a few of the ship’s crew beside him. He could hear the now familiar clicking sounds coming from the ship’s captain or commander, but apparently Klingon was not using the translator, for Peter could not understand what the captain’s commands were. As he entered the main part of the ship through the second hatch, the first thing that Peter noticed was a quiet yet distinctive whirring sound and the feel of air circulating. Air conditioning, perhaps? The air inside was certainly cooler than outside. The lighting was toned down as well. Wherever it was coming from— and it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once—it was pleasant to the eye, allowing every object to be seen comfortably and easily, with no glare at all. He paused inside the hatch just to allow himself some time to take in the reality of the moment. How many people on the planet could honestly say that they had actually seen an alien, up close and personal, or had been inside an alien spaceship? As far as he knew, only him. Oh, he had heard about, read, or seen stories about aliens visiting Earth over the millennia—pictures drawn on cave walls, interpretations from the Bible or other ancient texts, large carvings of various objects on the plains of … where? South America? And there had been stories of alien abductions and painful physical examinations while onboard alien spaceships. But those were only speculations and unsubstantiated claims up to now. This was real! Klingon had finished issuing commands to his crew. The creature, looking directly at Peter, stood near what appeared to be a large console of some sort. The console was part of a much larger configuration of consoles positioned in a circular fashion in the middle of this compartment. Crew were located on either side of Klingon, involved with various lighted displays, motioning slowly as they seemed to be working with dials and levers. At first, Peter thought

that the displays were mounted in the consoles; now he saw that they were suspended in air, sort of like holographic images. All around could be heard those murmuring sounds that he’d first heard out in the desert earlier. Peter thought that at least some of the larger hovering displays showed other parts of the spaceship, because other crew appeared on them from time to time. What they might be doing, he couldn’t make out. He then noticed the largest display of all, suspended just below the ceiling above all of the consoles. It seemed to fill the entire space. From it came the soothing lighting that he had noticed upon entering the compartment. The object appeared to be shaped like a globe, although somewhat elongated. It gave the appearance of tremendous depth, as if it went on forever. The background was as black as black could be, and the lighting that softly filled the room came from literally thousands of points of light, some much brighter than others, and some clustered in concentrations larger than others. The more he stared at it, the more he realized that the display was not suspended like a light fixture, nor was it contained as inside a globe. It was just there. “It is a depiction of our galaxy, at least the very small segment that we are in,” Klingon said, interrupting Peter’s reverie. “It is our map. We use it for orientation and navigation. It can be expanded or reduced to depict whatever detail that we need. It took our civilization many thousands of your years to fully map the universe and its ever-changing features and to develop a useful way to accurately and effectively display it as needed. With it, we can confidently explore to the farthest reaches of the galaxies. “Your civilization is at least as many thousands of years away from reaching this point,” the ship’s captain finished saying, as he started walking toward another hatch farther into the vessel. They went down a ageway, through several more hatches, by entrances leading to other compartments, and up to a higher level. This they did by stepping onto a platform that seemed suspended in air. As soon as they were on the platform, it quickly and silently whisked them upward, stopping quietly in a compartment that was brighter than the first one. In the center, other crew stood at a railing that circled around a large cylindrical object. As they walked closer it, Peter noticed that while the object appeared to stop at the ceiling of the room, it ran down through the floor.

When he reached the railing, along with Klingon, and looked down, he saw that it went down several levels and then into the floor at that point. As Peter scanned the cylinder from top to bottom, he could not detect any damage, either faint cracks running vertically and diagonally or cracks similar to those that might appear in objects that suffered fractures while under pressure, as from a torquelike motion. “This is the stabilizer device that I mentioned,” said Klingon, as he motioned to a crew member just entering the room. This crew member, however, was the spitting image of Klingon, except slightly smaller. It stopped abruptly for only a second when it saw Peter and then proceeded to a point several yards away from the ship’s captain and bowed. Klingon lowered his head slightly in response and then turned to face Peter. “This crew member is in charge of maintaining the vessel’s navigation and stabilization equipment,” Klingon stated, “and will explain the damage that was caused when it malfunctioned.” Klingon quickly clicked something to the crew member, who then reached into a pouch similar to the one that Klingon had used earlier to retrieve the translator. It brought out a similar object and attached it to its chest. Klingon clicked again for a short time, and the crew member walked over to the railing and motioned toward the cylinder. A mechanical-sounding voice, not unsurprisingly similar to Klingon’s when using the translator, began. “This is the stabilizer that we use to assure the safe operation of the ship at high interstellar speeds. It also aids in navigation. Without it, the ship cannot safely function, except at much lower speeds, which are impractical. As we were approaching your solar system, beyond the last areas of interaction between the dwarf galaxy and the Milky Way galaxy, on our mission of exploration, we began encountering a slight vibration throughout the ship. Any vibration at those speeds is alarming. “At first we thought that we were perhaps going through an area of solar flare interaction, but we did not detect any high levels of radiation and were not expecting such an occurrence in any event, as all of the stars in that area were relatively quiet at that time. The vibration was soon accompanied by what was, at first, a constant, faint noise—a whirring noise. The commander ordered an immediate inspection of all of the ship’s operating equipment that might cause

such a noise. Almost immediately, the whirring noise turned into a loud, highpitched scream that filled the ship. “Those working in the vicinity of the stabilizer quickly reported a failure of one of the two motors that drives the cylindrical rotor. We had to immediately reduce the rotation speed but not before one of the motors froze. Unfortunately, the result was that the second motor continued spinning at high speed for just a fraction longer but enough to cause the stabilizer to crack from the unbalanced torque. Now, there are numerous, thin fractures that run in a basically curved pattern up and down the cylinder. However, you cannot see the damage, because the cylinder itself is inside this outer cylindrical safety shield. “The drive motor must be repaired or replaced, as well as the stabilizer cylinder. We do not have the necessary resources onboard to begin such an operation. As the captain told you earlier, we have never had this kind of operational failure before. We were completely unprepared for it.” Peter looked back and forth between Klingon and his maintenance officer. Knowing only what he had just seen and been told, he had no idea how to go about organizing efforts that would ultimately lead to a repair. He had to find out more details about the situation before he could seriously brief anyone on the outside who would believe his story. He also needed to have in his possession something that would substantiate the existence of an alien presence, though he didn’t know what that could be. “Where are these motors that drive the stabilizer located?” asked Peter. “Which one failed? And how do you get to it to make repairs?” As soon as he had asked the questions, he noticed that s opened in the ceiling, with the blackened residue from an apparent electrical fire on them. “One is located at each end of the rotor,” the maintenance officer replied. “One motor is housed above, in the ceiling; the other is under the floor, several floors below. The drive motor that failed is the one in the ceiling. We can access that motor easily by going through s in the ceiling. To repair the cylindrical rotor inside would be much more involved, however. We would have to remove it through the ship’s roof, along with the upper motor. To do that, we would also have to disconnect it from the motor below. Again, if both the cylindrical rotor and the motor above are beyond repair, which is a distinct possibility, then we would have to replace both of them.”

“Well, from the sound of it, there’s the possibility that any repair like this will have to take place at some facility that can handle a job of this scope,” Peter responded speculatively. “I sure don’t have any experience when it comes to making that kind of a call; it will have to be part of the initial process, getting people out here who can make that kind of assessment. To be honest, I’m not so sure at this point that any of this will work out, but I still think that it’s worth a try. “As we discussed earlier, I’m going to need some object that I can take with me, that will serve to immediately convince others of the validity of the story that I’m going to have to tell them. This whole thing is going to sound far-fetched, if you know what that expression means. To explain, stories about aliens from outer space are a dime a dozen—another expression, meaning that those stories, whether they are about sightings of flying objects or actual alien abductions, have been told for decades. Unless I have an undeniable token of your existence that will substantiate my story, I may as well be telling ghost stories around a campfire.” At that moment, Peter happened to notice the translator device that still hung on the front of Klingon’s maintenance officer. It suddenly occurred to him that it was the obvious choice. “Sir,” he stated, facing Klingon, “I think that one of your translators would work. I will relate what you told me about understanding our languages but not being able to vocalize them. It will sound credible. The construction and materials are unique enough to peak their interest, if nothing else.” “I think that you are right about the translator,” Klingon replied. “Your problem, however, will be to control events in the process. Do you think that you can do that? As I mentioned earlier, I do not want this to get out of control from the outset. This must be kept as quiet as possible to avoid being overrun by events and, therefore, by Earth’s population gone mad over possibly the greatest event and potential threat ever to happen to your planet, at least in this cycle. You must be able to do this from the very beginning, or it will quickly fall apart and end horribly for all. Ideally, we want this repair to be done in the context of only those involved who must be involved. The fewer, the better, and that means only those who will be critical to the process. Do you understand?” Peter thought quickly about the people he would —his brother and some close, well-connected friends. He knew that they would not be enough but felt

that he could trust them to keep a confidence and to put him in touch with the few powerful people who could make these things happen quickly and quietly. “I do understand,” he said. “I can assure you that I will not jeopardize you or your ship and its crew. I will not reveal your position or allow with you, until I am sure that I have a safe and secure process in place, including the people to be involved. At that time, I will you and arrange for with the our Council, which I hope will happen soon. That brings up the question of how best to you, or how you can me.” “It is simple,” answered Klingon. “Depress this button on the side. That will activate the transmitter function. Then just speak into the translator, and we will receive your message. I can you by doing the same. I would think that such a message from me might convince certain stubborn parties that we exist, if that is what it must take. That means that you have to use it wisely, only when absolutely necessary. Take care to not let it fall into the wrong hands, including letting someone take it apart to ‘see how it ticks’—another one of your sayings, if I am not mistaken.” “Yes, sir,” Peter promised. “I really should go now, so that my dog and I can find our vehicle before it gets dark. It’s around here somewhere close by. I will you—secretly, of course—when I have something important to relay. In the meantime, be patient and don’t leave. , I will have your translator. Okay?” “Yes, and thank you again for what you did earlier,” Klingon said. “By the way, your vehicle is to the west of our ship a short distance. You can be there well before the sun sets. Earlier, we observed you driving in as the sun was rising and later were able to follow you and your dog as we were advancing on the location where we knew our crew member was in trouble. Luckily, you were able to get there just in time to save it.” With that, Peter and Klingon walked back to the outer hatch, where Peter unleashed a tired and hungry Chance, and the two of them returned to their old SUV and their new reality.

Chapter 4

Friday morning, June 11

P eter awoke and abruptly sat up in bed, immediately noticing the late-morning hour on the bedside clock. He had been having a series of weird, frustrating dreams throughout the night, dreams in which he continually found himself in situations in which he was lost and did not know where he was or how he had gotten there, but he knew that there was someplace that he had to be. He just could not figure it out, try as he might. And the dreams had been filled with confusingly configured buildings and rooms and roads that were everchanging … and strange people that he sensed he knew. Gradually, the bedroom came into focus and with it the realization of what had transpired hours ago in the desert. He and Chance had gotten home well after midnight, after having driven many hours from their location near the alien spaceship to Peter’s condo. Then, it had taken him additional hours to wind down before he could even begin to think about sleep. He and Chance had gone for a walk in the very early morning hours, so that he could relax in the silence and begin to think about the realization of what had occurred and the implications of that realization. Part of that process had been the questioning of what had really happened—if anything had indeed happened. It had become apparent to him, as he glanced up at a sky filled with the Milky Way and billions of other galaxies, that he not only had to convince others of the existence of the alien beings and their plight but also himself. Away from the alien ship, Klingon, and his crew, it had become easy for Peter to question the reality—indeed, the very sanity—of those events. Now, still sitting in bed, Peter understood the troublesome dreams of last night. This situation had produced an alien landscape in which it would be difficult, at best, to determine just how to get from where he once was to where he must now go—and with unsure footing along the way. He was going to have to figure out

this new reality as he went along and do so without falling, much like Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hole into a different universe.

“Hello, Paul?” Peter asked. He had decided that calling his brother was the first order of the day. Paul Harrigan was his older brother by three years. Growing up in the grain belt of Middle America, Paul, Peter, and Diana Harrigan had enjoyed most of the fruits of the good life available to children living in a country that thought its manifest destiny was limitless. Their parents were teachers, committed to educating the future generations of the country. The family was generally happy and close, and the time of growing up and striking out on one’s own happened much too quickly. Now, their older sister, Diana, newly divorced, was living in Seattle and rebuilding her life. Paul was an aerospace engineer with NASA, located in Cleveland. He was the older brother who had looked out for Peter, particularly after their father died—years ago and much too soon—from a heart attack when Peter was still in high school. “Peter! Well, what a surprise! It’s been a while!” Paul replied. “You’ve owed me a phone call or e-mail for months now. As you may , I called to wish you a happy birthday. Let’s see now, when was that? Well, it’s been so long, I can’t recall when it was.” “Come on, Paul!” Peter responded. “You know when my birthday is, and it wasn’t that long ago. And I have called and left messages, by the way.” “Okay, okay! Let’s not start nitpicking now,” Paul said, somewhat defensively. “When you’re a renown aerospace engineer, constantly reaching for the stars, you tend to get distracted from time to time. It can be quite an undertaking, tackling the mysteries of the universe and hobnobbing with the gods, you know.” “And becoming senile in the process, no doubt?” Peter added. “It’s what comes with advancing age, you know.” “Uh-huh, and with those social niceties out of the way,” Paul said, “what the hell can I do for you, little brother?” “Well, it’s like this,” Peter started out. “What would you say if I were to tell you that a very strange thing happened to me on the way through the desert yesterday —a very strange thing? And that if I tell you, I will have to swear you to secrecy?” “From the sound of your voice,” Paul quickly said, “and I have never heard you

sound quite like this before, I would have to say that you’d better tell me what’s wrong. As to the secrecy part, I work for NASA, for God’s sake. I’ve been keeping secrets for years that I have never told anyone, not even you.” With that, Peter told his older brother the full story that had unfolded yesterday morning in the desert wasteland that he knew and loved, the site of something that he never could have imagined in a thousand lifetimes. He also told him about his plan, his concerns and fears, his doubts, the evidence that would prove his story, and his desperate need for help. In the retelling of the story, he realized that he was way over his head. “First of all, I want you to know that I believe your story,” Paul said matter-offactly, after Peter had finished his litany of events from the previous day. “When I mentioned earlier that I was good at keeping secrets, I was not just referring to elements of your story but to both personal and professional experiences in the past. “There is more than just a kernel of truth to many of the alien-oriented shows that you see on TV. Oh, much of what you see and hear is hype intended to build up viewership. But the essence of the information and speculation on those shows is backed up by some pretty solid evidence over time. I say that because of what I have witnessed during my years of work at NASA. You may several occasions, during the earlier space shots, when the astronauts mentioned unusual things they observed outside their space capsules while orbiting the earth or during space walks—events that were not readily explained by professionals with years of experience. Only a few of those occurrences were ever released to the public and then only because circumstances made it impossible to withhold the information before it had already been reported by the media. “There were, however, many, many more, I assure you. The encounters continued to occur and be reported within the space program, including the shuttle program, but were continually stopped before they could be released to the public. NASA learned how to control the flow of information, for political reasons if nothing else, after those first few unintended releases.” “So what you’ve just mentioned probably ties in with the topics discussed on those alien-oriented shows that you mentioned earlier,” Peter replied, “such as the possibility of past alien encounters, occurring many thousands of years ago,

that are chronicled in various ancient texts, including the Bible, all mentioning with life-forms coming from the skies, and the mysteries surrounding the building of gigantic monuments, such as the pyramids, by civilizations that did not have the inherent technology to accomplish such mighty feats of construction.” “It’s possible, sure,” Paul acknowledged, “and why not? The more you explore the wonders of the universe, the more you have to acknowledge that life is possible anywhere and everywhere. That’s what the universe is—a life-making machine. Through the dynamics of the birth and death of stars, all of the essential elements of life, particularly the heavy elements, are created, just waiting for that certain spark of energy to ignite the forces of life itself. That energy and the life that it creates can give rise, over vast periods of time, to civilizations anywhere. “The major obstacle, then, is for those civilizations to eventually figure out how to span the vast distances of time and space. Then, space travel will allow them to do what comes naturally, which is to explore those deep regions of space in search of other life-forms. And it sounds as if one of those civilizations has achieved that breakthrough—some time ago, actually—and is now parked on our doorstep.” “Yeah, it sure sounds like it,” Peter acknowledged. “Now, all we have to figure out is how to convince the necessary people here on Earth about that fact and to organize an appropriate response from government, science, and industry globally that will enable our visitors to continue their journey in the process, without unleashing the darker angels of our nature, to put an ominous twist on Lincoln’s second inaugural speech. Do you think that the plan stands a chance?” “Well put,” said Paul. “Your interest in American history over the years serves you well. You’re right, though. It’s one thing to come up with a plan that is somewhat credible; it’s another to be able to pull it off, with so many variables to recognize and control. In the end, everyone will want a piece of the action, whether they deserve it or not. And their intentions will have nothing—or very little—to do with the eventual ability of our space visitors to return home. This will not be an ‘ET, phone home’ type of situation, with everyone tearfully committed to making sure that the cute and cuddly little alien gets reunited with his family. At least, not unless the leaders of this planet can get something in return, like alien technology.

“ all of the hoopla and rumors surrounding the infamous ‘Area 51’ regarding the reverse-engineering of alien technology from the infamous Roswell crash, among other encounters? The same types of rumors flew concerning the Germans before and during War II, and the Russians as well, afterward.” “So, you are the expert here,” Peter emphasized. “What do you suggest? Where do we have to begin, in order to have a least a snowball’s chance?” Before Paul could answer, Peter mentioned the two other people he had in mind —one his brother knew very well, of course—who he thought might also be of help.

Chapter 5

Saturday afternoon, June 12

H is plane landed at Dulles Airport about two hours late, after a weather-related delay out of Las Vegas. It was always amazing how large-scale weather systems storming across the country could back up air traffic out of so many of the nation’s airports. As a consequence, Peter had had to call ahead several times to update Daryl on his progress and to move their meeting back. Now that he had deplaned and caught a cab, they were to meet at one of Daryl’s favorite watering holes, one frequented by many of Washington’s movers and shakers, at least those who had survived the most recent midterm election, in which an army of Beltway insiders had been told by angry voters to get out of town—forever. That probably won’t have changed things too much , he thought, because the corporate lobbyists are still very much in residence and on the hunt. That was why Washington, DC, was one city that Peter never really liked to visit, despite its being the nation’s capital. The times that he had been here as an adult—once to visit Daryl and another for a seminar on global warming—he had left feeling a little unclean, like the aftermath of dealing with a car salesman or lawyer, or having had his wallet stolen by a pickpocket. He could never figure out why, but he always left with an unsettled feeling. This time, though, Peter’s thoughts were not on the love-and-war realities of Washington. He was thinking about his meeting with Daryl. After Peter told Paul about the other people he thought might be of help in carrying out his plan to assist the aliens, Paul said getting in touch with Peter’s fraternity brother first would be the best idea. From what Peter had mentioned about Daryl’s connections in the federal government and US military, he sounded like someone who could arrange those introductions and meetings that just might get certain prominent people involved at the necessary levels. ittedly, Paul had not been so sure of this Daryl person’s influence, but Peter assured his brother that Daryl was the real Washington insider.

The cab dropped Peter off in front of a restaurant with a view of the dome of the Capitol Building looming over the treetops across the street. He could not having been in this part of the city. Glancing at the front of the building as he approached the entrance at street level, he saw no pretentious appearance, nothing that indicated that accumulated power and wealth were present inside. If Daryl hadn’t mentioned the “movers and shakers,” Peter would have thought this was just another neighborhood hangout in just another American city. As he opened the outer door, however, he noticed that the place was packed. When he opened the inner entrance door, the noise almost drove him back outside. He literally had to muscle his way past people standing just inside the doorway in order to get inside. Once inside, Peter looked around for Daryl. He had no idea how he would find his college roommate in this compact mass of revelers. He noticed that almost everyone seemed to be attired in the latest Washington dress-for-success mode—expensive suits, ties, and Rolex watches for all my friends, please—but they weren’t acting at all like people entrusted with doing the nation’s business. Just as he was despairing of ever finding Daryl, someone suddenly presented him with a shot glass of scotch—neat. Before he could turn to ask how the person knew that he liked scotch, that person slapped Peter on the back and gave him a partial hug. “Peter, Peter, Peter! What in the world could be so troubling that you felt the need to dive into the devil’s den for God’s sake? Here, there is no truth, justice, or the American way. There are only Republicans and Democrats and those pretending not to be Republicans or Democrats, stirring up a witches’ brew.” Peter should have known that Daryl Stark would be prepared for his arrival, regardless of the time or circumstance. He always seemed to know what was happening, even before it happened. As Peter turned to greet his friend, Daryl added, “You know that’s Johnnie Walker Blue. Not just any scotch will do when my good ol’ college fraternity brother and close friend comes calling, you know.” “Yes, Daryl, I know,” Peter said, “and I appreciate the hospitality. By now, you’ve probably managed to sample the house scotch supply to assure that all

bottles meet your high quality standards—and mine!” “You’ve got that right,” Daryl happily responded. “I view it as my patriotic duty, being in Washington, DC, and all, to assure that you truly get to enjoy life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, particularly when it’s at taxpayers’ expense!” “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” Peter responded, trying to look alarmed. “Don’t tell me that you’ve landed one of those cushy government jobs that allow you to steal from the public coffers with little or no—and I emphasize no—effort on your part, and no chance of getting caught.” “Hell, Peter,” Daryl said, looking slowly around the room, “half the time, I really don’t know for whom I work. I just keep on doing whatever it is I do, and people keep handing me paychecks. Someday, either I or they will wake up, the dream will end, and then I suppose I might have to look for a real job.” Sadly shaking his head, Peter replied, “I doubt that that time will ever come, so don’t start worrying just yet. By the way, why did you pick this place? I mentioned that I wanted to talk to you about something important. Here, we’re going to have to continue yelling at one another just to be heard!” Daryl continued to look around the room, glancing first in one direction and then another, before speaking. “Well, for some reason, this place is rocking a little more than normal this evening. Usually, though, it’s a good place to talk about important matters without fear of being overheard. They have a backroom that I’ve used. It’s quiet and discreet. I know the owner; it’s okay. Come on!” They spent some time pushing through the crowd. They managed, though, to get to the back of the place without spilling any of their top-shelf scotch. They walked down a hallway that took them away from the after-work partiers and the restrooms and entered a small room next to what appeared to be the restaurant’s office. The room had just a table with six chairs around it. “Make yourself comfortable,” Daryl said. “This is where the owner takes care of those business aspects that he doesn’t want the rest of the staff to overhear.” Now that Peter had the opportunity to break his amazing story to his dear friend, he suddenly felt hesitant and tongue-tied. It was one thing to discuss this unbelievable tale with his brother; quite another to finally confide to the outside

world. True, Daryl was a trusted friend, but he also represented that part of this endeavor that truly bothered Peter—having to trust in the power-brokers, those who were necessary to the cause throughout, but who would exact a hefty price along the way. This was just the beginning of an odyssey that had no predictable outcome, because nothing exactly like this had ever happened to the planet and its inhabitants. And Peter had never been involved in this kind of an undertaking. Despite his earlier thoughts and feelings that this was the right thing to do—for the alien crew trapped on Earth and for the ultimate benefit of the future of mankind—he had this hollow, sinking feeling that did not bode well for a hopeful outcome. Nonetheless, he really had no choice. Assuming that the aliens had not already departed the planet, perhaps thinking to themselves that nothing good could come from remaining on this alien planet, he made a commitment to himself, as much as to the alien commander, to get the ball rolling. But … how to start? “Daryl, I can when we were in college that you had this thing with the US space program, the moon shots, and the early years of the space shuttle program. You said that you had been following the program avidly since you were a young kid. You were into the Star Wars movies as well, as I recall. I also your referring to some of the early reports made by the astronauts when they were in space, reports of unidentified objects that they witnessed as they were orbiting and walking in space. You said that you were convinced that some of those reports had to be about actual alien sightings. Do you any of that?” “Sure,” Daryl quickly replied. “I was really into that stuff years ago, convinced that it was only a matter of time before it all came out, when those scientists monitoring for alien transmissions or alien of some sort would be successful. But that was a long time ago, my friend. Now the only aliens that I’m convinced exist are all residing right here in the ‘swampland along the Potomac.’ These people here go way beyond anything that Hollywood or NASA or SETI could ever come up with. Why do you ask?” “What would you say,” Peter replied, “if I told you that your earlier feeling about aliens from outer space was right on the mark? That some—perhaps most—of those earlier sightings by the astronauts were, in all probability, true alien

sightings?” “Well, I don’t think that you’ve been smoking something illegal that you shouldn’t have,” Daryl quietly responded. “You always were a little too straitlaced for that, as I recall. Besides, you would have gotten caught, and then I would have had to visit you in jail. I have these nightmares about having to visit people in jail, you know. Probably because so many I know belong there that that’s what I’d be spending all of my time doing. For those that I like, that is. “So then the next thing is that you have been spending way too much time in that insane desert of yours in the Southwest, and your brain has come to resemble those of most of the people who have been in elective office here for thirty years or more. After a while, they don’t know whether to shit or wind their watch— which, I suppose, leads me to the somewhat brilliant conclusion that, barring the possibilities previously mentioned and knowing you to be the proverbial straight arrow, your story is probably worth listening to.” Peter sat looking at Daryl, thinking, The more time es, the more I discover these new twists into the inner workings of my roommate’s mind. In college, Daryl was always the one who could skip classes more often than not and still get straight As. He’d write his term papers hours before they were due and get As on them as well. And he’d announce time and time again that he was going to date the beautiful blonde that he just noticed sitting across from him in the cafeteria, or the one with the devastating body that just smiled at him while walking across campus, and he’d do so. Peter always wondered how people like Daryl could exist. While everyone else was running as fast as they could just to stay in place, people like Daryl seem to skate quite effortlessly through life. Were they oblivious to the realities that others had to face? Maybe they truly were the aliens who had been rumored by some to have assumed the likeness of humans in order to live among them while they took over the planet. On second thought, Peter mused, maybe that’s one possibility that I shouldn’t mention to Daryl, even in jest. Peter spent the next hour or so explaining his story and plan. He itted at the beginning how truly extraordinary the tale was, how improbable his plan was, and how he was still trying to figure it all out himself, while maintaining a positive mind-set. Daryl sat there quietly throughout, although Peter could tell that his friend’s mind was working through all of the possibilities of how the

details of this revelation could be played to the utmost advantage. Daryl hadn’t survived in this devil’s nest as long and as successfully as he had without developing all of the proper skills to do so. When Peter finished, he reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out the translator device used by Klingon. Daryl’s eyes widened immediately as Peter handed the device over to him. Daryl looked at the translator, twisting it in his hands and rubbing it, getting the feel of it. He had an noncommittal look on his face, so Peter couldn’t tell what Daryl was thinking. He felt certain, though, that Daryl was taken by the device, knowing that it was unlike anything he had ever seen or imagined, but perhaps he was not quite ready to comment or take a stand. Again, he was playing the typical Washington game of not wanting to commit to anything until he could get a better perspective of the ramifications and probable outcomes. So much, of course, hung in the balance. “You say that this was the translator that this Klingon character used to communicate with you?” Daryl quietly asked. “Yes,” Peter answered. “As I mentioned, the alien apparently did not have the capacity to physically speak our language. When it ‘talked,’ it made a chirping noise into the translator device. The device then translated whatever was said into perfect English. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it could function as well in any language programmed into it.” “I see.” Daryl made no comment beyond that. Instead, he continued to study the translator, looking at it closely, no doubt trying to figure out how it functioned and how to turn it on. Whatever he had just done caused to device to issue forth with a low but noticeable humming noise. Then a small door slid open at the top and a lighted appeared. Various icon-like images continuously blinked across the in rapid fashion. Not knowing what else to do, Daryl spoke into the translator. “Bon jour, monsieur. Comment allez vous?” he said. “Tres bien, merci. Et vous?” The machine replied in its emotionless, metallicsounding voice. “Well, at least it seems to be somewhat conversant in first-year French,” Daryl acknowledged. He then spoke into the translator in several other languages— Daryl, Peter recalled, was multilingual—and the machine flawlessly switched

from language to language without hesitation. After which, Daryl looked at Peter for several minutes, not saying a word. At last, he spoke into the translator again. “Take me to your leader!” The machine was silent; the icons continued to flow across the screen. “Apparently, it’s very protective of its leader,” Daryl concluded with a grin. “So what do you think?” Peter asked. “The translator seems to be the genuine article. I’m telling the truth about all of the events that occurred. What I need to know from you, with your experience and s here in Washington, is where do I go from here?” “Wait just a minute, will you?” Daryl answered. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking! First of all, do I believe your tall tale? The answer is, probably yes. I cannot make it an unqualified yes, because this is one of those once-in-a-lifetime situations that can blow up in your face, if you’re not careful. And when that happens, there can be a lot of casualties, believe me. In this town, they take no prisoners. Drawing and quartering is the order of the day; afterward, the bodies just discreetly disappear. “I take it that you want me to open up a few doors for you, to put you in with some powerful Washington types, so that you can entertain them with this very entertaining tale of a highly unlikely with some aliens from outer space, that you just happened to run into while on a walk in some godforsaken barren desert, which no one in his or her right mind would ever do. And, oh yeah, their spaceship just happens to be broken down and needs to be towed to the nearest AAA repair shop. And while you’re at it, can you change the oil and rotate the tires? “Just how Washington has managed to handle the subject of UFOs in general over the years, which is not very well. The US military, for instance, had Project Bluebook for a number of years, an operation to handle the numerous reports during that time of various sightings around the country and even outside the United States. The bottom line to all of it was to basically shut everything down as quickly as possible. Come up with any explanation, however ridiculoussounding, to put a lid on it and keep it out of the public as quickly as possible, which is becoming increasingly harder to do these days. “I am inclined to believe your story and your plan, such as it is. But believe me,

if you start going around pushing this to the wrong people around here, they will react the same way today as they did back in the ’50s and ’60s, which means that they will try their damndest to keep it bottled up. And you can understand why. If there is any possibility that it is true, then they want to be able to control the events and the outcome of events, to keep things from getting out of control, and to ultimately benefit in some way. If it turns out not to be true, then they certainly do not want embarrassing egg all over the collective faces. “My own read on this is that most of them really do believe in the aliens and their presence and have for years. The evidence is undeniably there; they know it. They just do not and cannot have a complete handle on the situation, because it’s all so very fluid. Careers can be won and lost in this crazy community on a lot less than some wacky story from a West Coast archaeologist.” Peter tried to put everything that Daryl said into perspective. It had all happened so fast, and it seemed like it had been going on for so long, even though fewer than forty-eight hours had ed since he and Chance had driven away from the alien spacecraft. He hadn’t thought that Daryl’s response would be like this. He had hoped that his story would be believable, of course, and that Daryl would be able to offer a plan of attack in Washington that would start the process toward building for quiet action of some kind. Now, what Daryl was saying about the old mind-set regarding UFOs still being in place did not bode well for that kind of outcome. “Speaking of the military, Daryl, I happen to know an officer in the Pentagon who I have met several times through my brother, Paul—you know he works for NASA. Perhaps he can helps us out in some way. I appreciate your comments, and I completely understand your hesitation and concern. But there is not a lot of time to work with here. I’m afraid that if I can’t come up with something quickly, the opportunity will slip by. I see this as an opportunity of a lifetime— man’s lifetime. We have a chance here to advance man’s knowledge and capabilities almost infinitely through this with another, more advanced life-form. If this thing can be done successfully, think of the accomplishments, the advances in science.” “While you are thinking about that,” Daryl countered, “there will be those thinking about how to control the situation to their advantage, as I mentioned

earlier. They will contrive to control the situation by controlling the aliens and their technology. That means keeping it from other governments and their militaries, for one, and from foreign corporations for another. I appreciate everything that you have said so far. Just that you are dealing with human nature as expressed through the competition within and between humanrun organizations. It’s cutthroat, at best. Do you think that you can really control that, when you’ll have everyone seeking the best advantage for themselves and for those they represent?” “I have to approach this from a more positive attitude than that, Daryl. Everything rides on getting those in power to understand the reality of the situation, which means that no one can benefit from this in the end, unless all benefit. We either cooperate for the benefit of all, or this will undoubtedly end in disaster, don’t you think?” Peter slowly shook his head. He had the impression that Daryl considered him to be a child proposing to play a child’s game in the midst of an adult assembly. “What’s the name of this officer in the Pentagon who you think could be of such help?” Daryl asked. “I haven’t talked him in quite a while, Daryl. I’m hoping that he can be of help because my brother, who introduced him to me years ago, reminded me that this guy was advancing his way through the military bureaucracy here in Washington. Paul said to make sure that I ed him while I was here. His name is Colonel Warren Paige.” “Do you mean General Warren Paige?” Daryl replied, with an astonished look. “‘Striker’ Paige, who sits on the t Chiefs of Staff that serves the president of the United States of America? That Warren Paige?” “It’s got to be the same Warren Paige,” Peter replied. “So he’s a general now? When did that happen, I wonder? Well, it has been some time since I’ve talked to him. And Paul certainly didn’t mention that Warren is now a general, so he probably doesn’t know either. How did he get to sit on the t Chiefs of Staff, for God’s sake?” “Well, he has managed to always move in the right political and military circles, from what I hear,” Daryl explained. “His father, Clarence Paige—you may have heard of him—came from a family of successful industrialists—steel, among

other interests—and he served in the US Senate for a number of years. A lot of money there, believe me. “Warren received all of the timely and necessary recommendations that got him into West Point right out of high school. He just missed Vietnam but later managed to get all of the necessary battlefield and command experience, starting with Desert Storm and continuing with Iraq and Afghanistan. Earlier in his career, he was involved with the US space program, from the standpoint of overseeing the developing technologies that could be of advantage to the military. That’s probably where your brother ran into him.” Once again, Peter was amazed by Daryl’s scope of knowledge and awareness. As was true when they were roommates, there didn’t seem to be anything beyond his grasp when it came to being plugged into circumstances and events. Leave it to Daryl to provide the critical background information from the family tree on someone Paul and I have known for some time, Peter thought. He was convinced more than ever that Daryl had to be involved in this venture. His knowledge and expertise were essential, especially at this moment when it was important to get things off to a quick and steady start. “I’m always amazed at how aware you are of all the things going on around you,” Peter said. “No wonder you always find some way to crawl out of the cesspool, smelling like a rose. I don’t see how you can acquire the knowledge that you have on the myriad information and ever-changing data that occurs daily, particularly here in DC. All right, Mr. Smarty-Pants, tell me how you think General Warren Paige can be of help to the cause, if any.” “Peter, I do have a confession to make,” Daryl started, with slight hesitation. “Yes, we were roommate for several years. And, yes, we shared many things and many secrets, except for the women, of course. However, there was one thing that I did not divulge during that time to anyone, mainly because I did not fully realize it then. Apparently, I was born with a photographic memory. It runs in the family, I guess. I have never had a problem with consuming, ing, and categorizing the onslaught of information that comes at me every day. It’s amazing the things that I can recall, however trivial. Believe me, sometimes it’s a curse! But now you know. “As to how I think Warren Paige can help out in your quest for fame and immortality, I really do not know exactly. I guess that it all depends on just how

close your brother, Paul, and Warren Paige were during those years when they both were involved in NASA. Warren’s battlefield experience over the years is not going to be of much help. What’s going to be of help is the nature of the connection that he had with your brother at NASA, their continued over the years, and the fact of his position on the t Chiefs of Staff, which represents with POTUS, with various of Congress, and with people in the many intelligence agencies, and defense contractors. “And the primary thing, Peter, is that he is one of the most respected people in Washington. There is even some talk of his running for president in the next election. I know that many of the more conservative elements around here have brought up his name several times as a viable candidate. I can assure you that when General Warren Cutler Paige speaks, people throughout this Twilight Zone listen. That may be the very thing, assuming that he will even talk with you and agree to help, despite knowing your brother, that gets you on the right track— and soon. The big problem may be getting an audience with him in a timely manner, time being of the essence, of course.” “And I guess that’s where your expertise comes into play, Daryl,” Peter finished, looking steadily at his good friend and roommate with hard, steely eyes, which was so uncommon of him.

Chapter 6

Monday morning, June 14

T he ride to the Pentagon was taking longer than Peter had anticipated, with rush-hour traffic at its peak. He was just ing by Arlington National Cemetery, which put him close, but he still had to find a place to park and get through security, and it was already 7:30 a.m. He wanted to arrive for his appointment a little early. He was so anxious to meet with General Paige that he was afraid that any delay, even for morning Washington traffic, might give the general time to change his mind. Or something just as bad could occur, like the start of a third world war. Based on how Daryl had described the general’s influential position in the Washington scheme of things, Peter felt confident that he was the person who could get the right people together, at least for the beginning round of important discussions. Peter was surprised the night before when Daryl returned from making several phone calls to a few of his own influential s, regarding General Paige and his daytime schedule. When Daryl walked back into the restaurant owner’s office, where they had been talking for several hours, he had that look of quiet satisfaction on his face. “My boy,” he said happily, “you are in luck! I got a hold of a friend of mine who has done some contract work for the Pentagon over the years and knows many of the military movers and shakers who march in and out the building. It seems that this friend has worked with the general in the past, before he was appointed to the t Chiefs, on civilian contracts over in Afghanistan. He had talked with General Paige personally on several occasions and had coordinated his activities while in Afghanistan with many personnel on the general’s staff at that time. He gave me the name and number for someone he thought could put me in touch with the general. A couple of phone calls later, and I’m talking to the man himself. The mention of my name—with an apology for calling so late in the evening, of course, and the mention of your brother’s name and your situation—

and he immediately agreed to meet with you. “You are scheduled for the day after tomorrow, first thing in the morning at— and I quote—“Zero eight hundred hours, precisely!” “Of course, the fact that your brother had already ed the general, saying that you would be in Washington, DC, soon and wanted to talk to him about a very important matter probably helped a little, I would imagine,” Daryl finished, with a slight shrug and a smile. Now, approaching Visitor Parking on the riverside entrance of the cavernous building, Peter was grateful for the way things were going. Despite a day’s delay before the meeting, the direction and pace of events so far gave him hope that this quest might stand a chance of working. After a delay in finding a parking spot, Peter walked toward the entrance suggested by General Paige, according to Daryl. Glancing up at the rows of identical windows stretching away into the distance, Peter wondered if he would get a chance to take a look at the southwest side of the building, where one of the planes that had been hijacked by terrorists had ended up on that fateful day of September 11, 2001. He had read that the repair was made so as to perfectly blend in with the original facade. Unfortunately, it had not been possible to put those lives that had been so horribly destroyed back together the same way. He entered the building, along with a large crowd of people, both in and out of uniform. ing Daryl’s comment about his friend who worked for the military as a civilian contractor, Peter wasn’t as surprised by the civilian-clad workers streaming into the Pentagon as he otherwise might have been. He ed something about the controversy over the years surrounding the extent of growth in the use of non-military types in both Iraq and Afghanistan in more and more areas, such as personnel security in and around various US compounds. He guessed that it freed up more soldiers for the areas involving the heavier fighting. He was motioned over toward a line of people going through a security screening area by a woman in a police uniform. Immediately, the situation reminded Peter of the “devil’s dance,” as someone once described it to him, that they subjected people to at airports, prior to allowing them to proceed to the departure gate. He tried to relax during those times, but inevitably, he envisioned

himself being stripped searched. As it turned out, the rest of the check-in procedure went without a hitch. When asked his purpose for requesting entrance, Peter quickly mentioned his meeting with General Paige. That required a call, presumably to the general’s office, to confirm the appointment; once that was accomplished, his personal effects were returned to him, along with specific instructions as to how to find his way through the vast maze of corridors to the general’s office, located in one of the inner rings. After about five minutes of following the security guard’s instructions down the Pentagon’s infamous long hallways, ed by signs and arrows along the way, Peter found himself opening the door into a rather unimposing office but one that bespoke quiet and assured power nonetheless. Along the opposite wall, several flags were displayed on stands, the US flag being one, with dozens of pictures and portraits of various historic military actions and the generals who had been in command. General Paige’s portrait was among those relating to the more recent military events of the last thirty years. Before Peter could seek out someone to tell him where to find the general’s office, a female officer approached him. “Mr. Harrigan,” she said with measured authority, “I am Colonel Bradford, the general’s adjutant. The general is waiting to see you. He has a busy schedule today, so try to make your visit this morning as brief as possible.” “Colonel Bradford,” Peter replied, noticing that no handshake was offered—nor intended, no doubt, he thought—“I will try to, of course, but I may need more time with General Paige, given the nature of what I have to tell him.” The general’s adjutant responded as if she had just issued an order, not a request. As they proceeded down another hallway, Peter noticed that the colonel’s ID tag said “Lt. Colonel Bradford” on it and mentioned it. This brought a response that indicated his question had bordered on a breach of military etiquette. “First of all, Mr. Harrigan, both the rank of colonel and lieutenant colonel are addressed the same; that is, as colonel. Just as generals of different rank are addressed as general. The symbols of rank on the uniform distinguish the difference. Second, General Paige’s schedule each day is set up in rather precise time frames, so as to maximize efficiency. He normally only makes adjustments in the event of an occurrence that cannot be ignored or deferred, such as the

president calling. So you see, it is important to have your presentation limited. If you need more time, perhaps the general will allow another meeting to be scheduled at some point in the future.” After walking down about half the length of the corridor, the colonel abruptly turned and entered a small anteroom with a desk, computer, file cabinets, and more pictures and portraits on the wall. Here, the general’s portrait was definitely front and center. “If you’ll have seat,” Lt. Colonel Bradford said, motioning to several chairs aligned along the inside wall, “I will inform the general of your arrival.” With that, she ed through a large, solid, gray door that closed behind her. Immediately after her departure, Peter couldn’t help wondering how a lieutenant colonel in the army could be so formidable and yet so beautiful at the same time. Peter took a seat. He hadn’t anticipated that he would be told to keep what he had to say short and simple. Had that request come from the general? Or was his adjutant merely endeavoring to keep her boss on the straight and narrow regarding just another busy day of meetings and pressing the flesh inside the nation’s beltway? He had been counting on getting necessary help from General Paige in ing those people at various levels of power, both in Washington and elsewhere in the world, as quickly as possible. If, in the end, the general was just too busy, not interested, or perhaps unable to assist for political reasons, then Peter would have to come up with a Plan B quickly. The only problem was, there might not be enough time to develop a credible alternative. After a half hour had ed with no noise or communication coming from beyond the closed door, Peter began to think this had been a mistake. Who was he to think that he could take up the time of someone as highly placed in the Washington scheme of things as a general who sits on the t Chiefs of Staff serving the president of the United States of America? The more he thought about it, the more absurd the idea became. So his brother knew the general from years back in the context of the US space program of an earlier age. What about all the water that has ed under everyone’s bridge since then? So Daryl had the connections in this town to convince someone he knew to call someone else, who knew another person connected with the Pentagon, who could secure Peter an appointment with this general. In the end, what did it all mean? Here he was, just an ordinary citizen from the West Coast, sitting in an

extremely quiet office in the world’s largest office building on the other side of the country, on a somewhat typical summer day, with an outlandish story to tell to a highly placed military officer. What could be simpler than that? Just as he was almost convinced he should tell someone that this was a mistake, the door opened and a noncommissioned male officer stuck his head into the waiting room to notify Peter that the general would now see him. He followed the sergeant down an inner hallway and into another waiting area. Here, however, he was not asked to take a seat. Instead, he was ushered into a large office where sunshine had managed to find its way through a bank of windows covering the far wall. To his left was a very large table surrounded by at least a dozen chairs. Next was an equally large sitting area with a comfortable-looking couch, several chairs, and a coffee table. To his right, a double desk with a distinguished, uniformed man sitting behind it. Behind him, two flags draped from poles, and a large map, depicting armies maneuvering in battle, hung from the wall. The sergeant immediately announced Peter’s arrival. With that, the general got up from his chair and walked around the desk with his hand extended. “Peter Harrigan!” the general said. “I am sorry for the delay. It was unavoidable.” “That is perfectly all right, General Paige,” Peter responded, trying to sound genuinely sincere. “It’s been a long, long time!” the general continued. “I had forgotten just how much you look like your brother, Paul. And your father, for that matter.” General Paige’s handshake was brief yet firm. He gestured toward the sitting area with his left arm. Peter entered and took a seat at the end of the couch. The general sat in the closest of the wingback chairs. As he did, he quickly checked his watch. Peter took that as a hint that the meeting, an undoubtedly short one, had just begun. “General Paige,” Peter began, with a growing sense of applied pressure, “thank you for taking time out of what I know is a busy day for you. I will try not to take up more of your time this morning than I have to, but I do have an urgent situation that I want to discuss with you. Believe me, time is of the essence for both of us, so I will try to be as brief as possible.”

At this point, General Paige held up his hand, both to reassure Peter not to worry about the time and to make a statement. “Peter, let me say something that will save us both some time. ittedly, it has been a while since I last saw you. So long, in fact, that I must it that I cannot exactly when that was or the circumstances. It may have been at your sister’s wedding, maybe not. But I have kept in touch with your brother on a fairly consistent basis all these years. As you know, we worked together for quite a while down at NASA, primarily during the early development of the space shuttle program. We became good friends. “I was there to track the various technological developments that came about as a consequence of the country’s space efforts that might have direct military benefits. Your brother is one of the smartest and most professional people I have ever met or served with. He was exceptionally helpful in providing me and the military with information relevant to the military’s future technological needs worldwide. “After several years, however, I received orders that took me elsewhere, and we never worked together again. But as I said, your brother and I have kept in touch. We have kept one another briefed on exactly how we and our families have fared over the years. Not surprisingly, the reports have been a mixed bag but mostly favorable. Typical for families today. I was sorry to hear, for instance, of your sister’s divorce. But your mother seems to be doing well, enjoying her retirement out in Arizona. “I say all this, because your brother and I have talked on several occasions within the past twenty-four hours about you and your desert encounter, shall I say. Paul is very adamant that he believes your story about the encounter. He called me only to give me a heads-up, because he felt that you might be at least somewhat successful in opening up a few doors here in Washington, and he wanted to make certain that you at least got an opportunity to tell your story and not get stonewalled too much. He’s not so sure about this plan of yours, but he sincerely believes in you and in the preliminary evidence that you presented that s your story. “Keep in mind that Paul has seen and heard a lot of things regarding UFOs and such sightings while at NASA, so his background has certainly given him the basis for honestly believing in the possibility—actually, the high probability—of such occurrences. And to tell you the truth, my time at NASA and in the military,

generally, have convinced me as well that such encounters have taken place. But let me say that dealing with the subject, particularly in a place like Washington, DC, is a lot easier said than done. “For a variety of reasons—many not at all rational—there is a lot of very stubborn resistance to any revelation of alien activity, much of it for religious reasons. While there seem to be revelations of such alien encounters in the earlier texts of other more ancient religions, believers in Christianity— particularly the evangelicals—tend to reject any such possibilities. Believe me, I know firsthand. The family that I grew up in and the whole community, for that matter—all strongly evangelical. Even the mention of the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe is heretical doctrine—very similar to the reaction to evolution. “Politics being what it is, if you are a politician and you hope to be elected and reelected to office, in most areas of the country you play the religion card very carefully. In fact, you probably want to do that in most endeavors, both in and out of politics. That means that in a place like Washington, a story like this is a political ‘hot potato’ for many. Careers can be jeopardized by ending up on the wrong side of a story like yours. To put it crudely, you do not want to be around when the proverbial shit hits the fan.” “That means, then, that you can’t be of any help, can you?” Peter interrupted. He had been sitting quietly while the general was talking, shifting between hope and despair all the while, not knowing exactly where General Paige was going with this little speech of his. Now, there didn’t seem to be any doubt that the general was politely begging off. If the story of an alien encounter in the desert was such a political and career risk, then no one in his or her right mind was going to touch it, particularly someone so highly placed. “I’m sorry to have taken up your valuable time, General Paige,” Peter continued, “but I had hoped that you could have at least provided some aid and insight as to how to begin involving the organizations and individuals, both here and around the world, in a cause that undoubtedly will serve the interests of mankind for generations to come. , I didn’t seek to become involved in this ‘hot potato,’ as you call it. I was simply minding my business, along with my dog, while hiking in the desert, something that I do on a regular basis. “I’m not one to seek the spotlight, as my brother will tell you. I prefer my life as I have been living it for the past twenty years or so; that is, keeping pretty much

to myself and continuing to do research, teach, write, and paint. I really didn’t need this. I am not making this up, if that’s what you think. I know what I saw and what transpired four days ago in the desert. Yes, it involves the dreaded ‘aliens from outer space,’ a subject that undoubtedly strikes terror in the hearts lots of people. As I see it, that’s their fault; they are just going to have to deal with it. “Trying to repair the alien spaceship is the right thing to do. Not an easy thing, by any means, but the right thing. We may not possess the means to do it or be able to develop the necessary technology in time to be of help. But as a civilization, perhaps one of millions or billions of other civilizations in the universe, this is an opportunity that this world cannot afford to up. Just think of the leap forward, when it comes to our own space programs, that this may represent. We could end up leapfrogging ahead by at least hundreds of years, technologically. But,” Peter concluded, “I’m not going to continue to take any more of your time when it’s obvious that you don’t think that it’s worthwhile. I thank you for your time, in any event.” Peter was halfway off his seat on the couch when General Paige motioned him to remain seated. “Peter, I did not say that I was not interested or would not help in whatever way that I can,” the general stated. “I merely mentioned some underlying factors that will be present in this situation. There will be those who will not want to pursue this issue. In fact, there will be those who will endeavor to shut down any attempt to give aid to life-forms that are perceived as a threat to our civilization. “And when you think about it, what guarantees can you provide that the people of this planet will not be jeopardized by involvement with these alien forms? What do you know about them, after only a momentary encounter—however profound it may have been? How can you be sure of their real intentions? What about considerations involving this country’s national security, for instance? And,” the general quietly continued, “just as important, I wanted to measure for myself your sincerity and dedication to this cause in which you have found yourself, for it will become increasingly more difficult as you continue, for reasons that I have mentioned and for others along the way. I did not doubt the truthfulness of what you related to your brother, your friend Daryl, or me. I had to find out for myself just how willing you are to continue to pursue your quest as we start to bring others on board, wanting them to commit themselves to the quest as well, with all the risk that will entail.”

Peter listened to the general ask perfectly good questions for which he really did not have any answers. He realized for the first time that he primarily had become involved on an emotional level with the situation. Or perhaps he had had these same reservations but was so interested in getting things going as quickly as possible that he failed to view this unbelievable occurrence in a proper perspective. Of course, there were important considerations to be made before committing the planet to such a ponderous task, which likely would involve a staggering amount of time and treasure. And for what? The hope that some tremendous good would just automatically befall the planet, that our civilization would learn how to get along with alien civilizations across the galaxies, when we could barely get along with ourselves? “Well, I guess,” Peter reluctantly stated, “that’s why I came to Washington. No, I haven’t thought about national security issues. And you’re right; I certainly cannot vouch for the alien crew and its intentions. I don’t know that much about them, other than that they apparently suffered a mechanical breakdown while on an exploratory mission involving the interaction of colliding galaxies—the Milky Way and another, dwarf galaxy. The leader of the alien crew, an individual I call Klingon, because he physically reminds me of those characters from the Star Trek series, told a believable story of being stranded on Earth and of being unable to proceed to a certain waypoint on the return to their own planet, because of the breakdown of their onboard ‘stabilizer.’” “So,” General Paige interjected, “you’re proceeding on simple faith, just like many of those who would oppose you? Their faith would lead them to a different conclusion than yours, in this case.” “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Peter itted, “except I’ve seen the damage to the spaceship, due to the failure. There is no way that it was faked. But you are right; I am operating on a belief and that belief says that the alien crew is in trouble and that we have to try to help.” General Paige sat quietly in the wingback chair. A ticking sound was suddenly apparent to Peter. Looking around the room, he noticed the moving pendulum of a very large grandfather clock against the far wall. The opened door had blocked it from his initial view of the room. The movement of the pendulum reminded Peter of the unrelenting age of time and the equally unrelenting feeling that

it was taunting him in some way, threatening to run out before his mission was accomplished. “Peter, as I see it,” the general at last announced, “we’re going to have to take the initiative but be quiet about it. We’re going to have to assess the situation, to do some reconnoitering, so that we have a better handle on what is involved here. In order to do that, we’re going to have to involve some others but only a few—just the right people, those who hopefully will have the knowledge to make a quick assessment of what might be possible when it comes to doing anything of consequence and then keep quiet about it. To do that, of course, we’re going to have to visit the site—discreetly. If any word leaks out on this before we have a chance to gather all of the pertinent information, we will have a situation automatically out of control, and we very much do not want that. “I am going to have to make some calls and maybe call in a few owed favors from people. I will include your brother also. This will take some time. When do you expect to go back to the site and renew with this Klingon character?” “I told him not to make a move for at least two weeks, our time. I said that I would try to get something together by then. For them, a two-week delay is not of much consequence. Given the nature of their dilemma, they cannot travel very fast or very far with the stabilizer device out, so they are pretty much stuck. We have a way of initiating with one another through a translator device, which also provides evidence of their existence. I believe you said that Paul mentioned that item to you, did you not?” “Paul briefly described it to me during one of our conversations. I don’t imagine that you have it with you now, with security being what it is here at the Pentagon.” “No,” Peter replied, “I couldn’t take the chance that it would be discovered. It would have been impossible to explain, so I left it in a safe in my hotel room. I certainly can provide it, if necessary, to convince others about the validity of my claim. No doubt it will be necessary at some point in the near future.” “Yes,” the general replied. He paused briefly, looking again at his watch. “Listen, Peter, I have some meetings coming up shortly. We’re going to have to stop here until I have a chance to make those s that I mentioned earlier. Once we start to involve others, we then become dependent on their availability

and cooperation. Until I know who is definitely on board, I will be discreet in what I say. I anticipate that we will have to meet with whoever is on board before anything is finalized. At that point you will have to show them the translator as proof of what you are saying. Until then, keep it in the hotel safe. I will try to you no later than tomorrow afternoon to set something up. I think that we should try to make it to the site sometime this week, but it will take some scheduling changes for me to do that.” General Paige walked to his desk and pressed a button on a console. Immediately, the door to his office opened, and a different non-com entered. “Sergeant, please escort Mr. Harrigan back to the north exit.” “Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied. With that, Peter and the sergeant began the trek to the doors that led from the massive building to where he was parked. Along the way, Peter analyzed what had just occurred. He felt that the meeting had accomplished much of what he had hoped for. He couldn’t argue with the general’s cautionary tone. The man had not risen to his position as one of the nation’s senior military officers, sitting on the t Chiefs of Staff, and who, it was rumored, might run for president, without knowing how to play the game successfully. Peter left the building with renewed confidence that the improbable events that had unfolded a short time ago now were leading to a plan with possible success. He knew, however, that care and caution would remain constant companions as he unlocked the secrets of dealing with creatures, both domestic and alien, that often were driven by self-interest and self-preservation—and that included both his former college roommate, Daryl Stark, and General Warren Cutler Paige.

Chapter 7

B ack in his hotel room after his meeting with General Warren Paige, Peter Harrigan found himself pacing the floor, pausing every few minutes to gaze out the fifth floor window at the particular view of Washington offered from the hotel. The room’s window did not offer a picturesque view of the Capitol, or the White House, or any of the other historic monuments of the nation’s capital, but that was the last thing on his mind. He was concerned about what to do next as he awaited the general’s call. Peter hoped that things would break loose over the next few days, but loose in which direction? While the events of the past few days had gone better than he could have anticipated, nothing definitive had been achieved yet. So much had to be worked out, if repairing the alien spacecraft was going to succeed. There was no doubt in his mind that he could not make things happen strictly on his own. The outcome would depend on a variety of people and circumstances beyond his control. That brought up the dilemma facing him at this moment, one that had occurred to him while driving back to his hotel from the Pentagon. He really had to make with the alien commander, Klingon, to let him … it? … know what progress was being made. But that was the problem. It had been four days since the incident in the desert, and while some sort of plan was starting to form, there was no real direction as yet. Nothing that he could relay to the alien leader that would even begin to create confidence in the ability of earthlings to work up the technology and teamwork required to produce such a miraculous repair—to leap from a current human technology that the alien visitors likely viewed as almost caveman-like, to a newly developed technology, worthy of allowing man to begin exploring the stars. And to do so in such a dramatically short time—a year or less, perhaps, as opposed to decades or more under normal technological advancement—that was the mystery of it all. Even with the assistance of the aliens themselves, including the sharing of necessary aspects of their technologies, Peter thought, will we be able to pull it

off without getting quickly embroiled in petty quarreling and infighting among the world’s populations, devolving into guarding and promoting of the special interests of nations and governments? Will the pull of trying to capture the awesome power of the aliens’ technologies for the purpose of control over other nations be irresistible? Who can one really trust in such a provocative situation? Peter was so wrapped up in the quandary facing him that it took several rings of the phone in his room before he realized that he had an incoming call. He rushed from the desk, where he had been organizing some notes, to the phone beside the bed. “Peter Harrigan,” he said. “Mr. Harrigan, this is Colonel Bradford, General Paige’s adjutant, calling. We met earlier this morning, you will recall.” Given their abrupt and less-than-cordial initial that morning, the general’s adjutant was the last person that Peter thought he would be speaking to again. She had left no doubt that she considered his meeting with the general to be particularly disruptive and unnecessary. Such meetings with highly positioned people were for other highly positioned people, not some unknown. “Yes, Colonel.” Peter quickly ed the brief and pointed education that he had received about military etiquette when addressing certain officer ranks, such as her own. He was glad, however, for some reason to hear her voice again. “Mr. Harrigan, General Paige requested that I call you to arrange a second meeting with you for tomorrow at 0800 hours. This meeting will be more formal, involving several others as well. It will require that you prepare the same presentation that was discussed with the general today. He would like six packets of that relevant information for distribution to the other attendees. Will there be a problem for you to attend the meeting?” the colonel politely inquired. Peter thought that her voice sounded almost friendly, as if what took place earlier had not occurred. “No, there won’t be a problem,” Peter responded. “I will definitely be there for the meeting. Will it be held in the general’s office again?” “Yes, it will. I will meet you by the riverside entrance at 0745, just inside security screening, and escort you to the general’s office.”

“That will be fine, Colonel Bradford,” Peter responded, still a little perplexed at the change in the colonel’s demeanor from earlier today. “Thank you for calling and for your help this morning. You really don’t have to meet me and escort me to the general’s office, though. I know that you’re busy; I can find my way there.” “No problem whatsoever, Mr. Harrigan. Being assigned as adjutant on the general’s staff includes handling a wide variety of details, including making sure that all visitors are welcomed and treated appropriately. I’m looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow.” After she hung up, Peter wondered if maybe there were two Lt. Colonel Bradfords assigned to the Pentagon—one who sounded cheerful and friendly and the other who didn’t. If given the chance, he would definitely choose the friendly one, although both were certainly very good-looking. Now, the problem was how to prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. The call had certainly come earlier than he had anticipated. In hindsight, he realized he should have inquired as to who was going to be there and what the general expected. Was this to be another briefing to carefully chosen people, who would then involve others, as needed, or were those attending the heavy hitters who could immediately order things to be done? What sort of briefing paper could he prepare that would go along with the translator and serve as hard evidence of the aliens’ plight and hopeful rescue? And how in the world could he get the translator into the Pentagon, past security, without being detected and sounding alarms? Again, in hindsight, he realized he should have discreetly inquired of Colonel Bradford how to get the items into the meeting. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that visitors must go into the Pentagon every day with briefcases filled with various items needed for meetings and presentations. When he entered the building tomorrow morning and approached the security aisles, he would just have to briefly explain that he had an important meeting with General Paige, and if they had any questions concerning what he had in his possession, they should the general’s office. That was when he suddenly ed that Colonel Bradford was going to meet him at security. She was going to be there for just that reason. Unless, he thought, she’s going to meet me at the entrance because she really is

looking forward to seeing me again … not likely! His final thought before preparing for the meeting was that he finally might have some welcome news for Klingon, but in the meantime, he would mentally go over the still-perplexing alien encounter in the desert once again, this time in greater detail, and hope to put the sequence of events together in a credible chronology. On the one hand, he certainly was happy and surprised that General Paige was able to put together a meeting so quickly—it had only been about four hours since he had left the Pentagon. On the other hand, that didn’t leave him much time to prepare with a lot of confidence.

Chapter 8

Tuesday morning, June 15

P eter spotted Lt. Colonel Bradford immediately behind security as he walked through the north entrance precisely at 0745. She saw him at the same time and proceeded to point him out to a security guard standing next to her. The guard, in turn, spoke into a mike positioned on his left shoulder. Before Peter got much farther into the building, he was escorted by yet another guard, who ushered him ed the lines awaiting clearance to enter the building and to a smiling Lt. Colonel Bradford. “Good morning, Mr. Harrigan. Everyone is waiting for you in the general’s office, so let’s get going.” “And here I thought that I was running right on schedule,” Peter replied. “Don’t worry; you’re fine.” Lt. Colonel Bradford was walking at what Peter suspected was the usual fast pace for those who had to cover the vast distances involved in getting around from one part of the Pentagon to another on foot. “You are on time. It’s just that when the general invites someone at the last minute to him for an important meeting, without telling them exactly what it is about, they tend to arrive a little early so as not to miss anything and to mentally prepare themselves.” “Well, then I don’t feel left out,” Peter replied, a little out of breath, trying to keep pace with the lt. colonel, “because I really do not know exactly what the meeting is all about either. I hope I’m as prepared as I can be, however, knowing what little I do know.” They reached the part of the building that Peter recognized from yesterday’s meeting as leading to the general’s office area. The lt. colonel opened the door and then stepped aside for him to enter. She then proceeded to the general’s office door and once again stood aside as Peter walked in. He stopped short

almost as soon as he entered. Of the six people sitting around the conference table across were two people who he knew very well—his brother, Paul, and his college roommate and good friend, Daryl Stark. The others sitting around the table, besides General Paige, were completely unknown, which did not surprise him. He never paid much attention to the names and faces of the many Washington people of note who were in the news. “Peter!” the general shouted out. He was sitting at the far end of the table from the door and rose up as he acknowledged this last arrival. The others followed his lead, not surprisingly, turning in some cases to glance over their shoulders toward the door. Peter walked over to the table and sat down at the only vacant chair, at the end opposite General Paige. “You know two of the questionable characters assembled here, although I imagine you’re surprised to see them under these circumstances. The rest I will introduce as our conversation goes around the table. For now, take the seat of honor at the end of the table nearest you, and let’s get started. “First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming on such short notice, particularly those who had to avail themselves of overnight red-eye flights to get here this early. I wish that I could say that you will be able to check into your hotels shortly to get some much-needed sleep, but given the nature of the subject and situation, we might be here for quite a while this morning. “The last to arrive is, of course, the reason that we are all here. For those of you who have not had the honor of meeting our distinguished guest, this is Dr. Peter Harrigan. You have his résumé before you, so I will not go into detail on his impressive education and work background and overall qualifications. We are here because of a most recent and unexpected experience of his. I have asked Peter to prepare a briefing on that, which he will give shortly. “At this time I will go around the table to make the formal introductions of the rest of those present. Again, you have in front of you the résumés of the others gathered here—the remarkable backgrounds and accomplishments of all of the esteemed individuals seated at this table—including mine. If there are any questions or comments regarding the personal information on any person here,

bring it to my attention and mine alone. The group assembled here must be able to work in harmony and discreetly, without professional discord. It will be my responsibility to make certain that that is accomplished. “Relative to the subject at hand today, you would not be here unless I thought that you could be of extreme assistance in this matter, both initially and down the road. Believe me, from what I know about what Peter has to tell, time and discretion are of the utmost importance here. The initial decisions that we make here will either serve us well, as this situation unfolds, or will come back to haunt us. “Sitting next to Peter, on his left, is his brother, Paul. Paul Harrigan and I worked closely together for many years at NASA in the early days. I eventually left for other assignments. Paul has remained with NASA and is eminently qualified in the history, scope, and technological development regarding NASA’s involvement over the years in anything and everything having to do with this country’s space explorations and activities, including the handling of many UFO incidents. “Next to Paul is Daryl Stark, a close friend of Peter’s. Daryl and I have known one another for quite some time, and I know of no one who is better equipped and qualified to maneuver along the many roads and back allies, high ground and low, within the government’s hallways and backrooms. No one has the valuable connections to those in Washington who are able to get things accomplished in Congress and in the Oval Office, which is mostly a roll of the dice under the best of conditions, that this man has. Daryl is known around here as ‘the ghost,’ for he always seems to appear just at the right moment anywhere and everywhere that he needs to be. No one is really sure most of the time what he does or who he works for, perhaps not even Daryl himself, but whatever it is, he does it effectively. “Next to Daryl, to my right, is US Air Force General Charles Atkins. At this time, I cannot reveal exactly what General Atkins’s specific duties are, other than to say that he is currently assigned to the military’s Central Command down at Mac Dill Air Force Base as Cent-Com’s Intelligence Officer for Special Operations. Most of what concerns General Atkins involves items and issues that fall under various security classifications on a need-to-know basis. His information packet is, therefore, not as complete as the rest, for reasons of national security. More of that information may be forthcoming as circumstances

dictate, but for now, suffice it to say that General Atkins’s background and qualifications are very much in line with the needs and scope of this assignment. “To my immediate left is Dr. Karl Holzhauer. Dr. Holzhauer is with the European Space Agency, also known as ESA, assigned as its direct representative to NASA on all matters affecting the ongoing cooperative efforts, between Britain, , and , in particular, regarding current space exploration and future program development. That would include the international space station, of course, as well as continuing research and development for both manned and unmanned missions in and beyond our solar system. I assure you that Dr. Holzhauer’s background and expertise will serve this effort very well. “To Karl’s left is Dr. Katrina Douglas, NASA’s Director of Astronomical Research and Development. Aside from that specific title, Dr. Douglas’s primary task is to direct NASA’s efforts and energies in the direction of determining the probability of with life-forms outside of our solar system, in the event that we encounter them as we expand our exploration of space or they happen to visit us—what may they look like, given the nature of other solar systems that appear to have Earth-like planets that could intelligent life? How should we initially engage them, and what protocols should be employed if and when such occurs? Katrina is the youngest member of NASA’s family to be given such a prestigious assignment. Her résumé will be sufficient in explaining why. “Now, before I turn this meeting over to Peter Harrigan, let me attempt to summarize where we seem to be, as of this point. With regard to Katrina’s responsibilities, it appears that significant has indeed been made with certain alien life-forms. This most recent , as Peter will relate, involves direct over a several-hour period and took place both outside and inside an alien spacecraft. That occurred five days ago on June 10, at just about this time, in a remote section of the Southwest. “And speaking of time, time is of the essence. Under the circumstances, must be reestablished quickly—hopefully in the next day or two—and plans must be made, starting today, to assure that this situation can be handled with complete discretion. We here will most certainly not be the only ones involved in the events that have yet to take place. Because of that, much rides on the decisions that we will initially make today. The more people that become

involved as events and the pace of events unfold, the harder it will become to maintain control. We cannot afford for events to control the desired outcome. But for now, let’s give Peter a chance to expand on the details. Peter?” Peter hesitated before speaking. He appreciated the general’s comments but was left with a feeling of apprehension. He needed the involvement of those now present in order to accomplish anything meaningful within a relatively short time span. But he wondered just what the general meant by maintaining and not losing control of events. Despite what Peter’s expectations might be at the moment in of trying to help effect a repair on the alien craft, what was it actually going to take to pull it off? What ultimate price would be paid—and who would pay it? Who would really end up in control of events that would determine the outcome? Maybe that should be his first comment, for he wanted everyone here to understand exactly what the mission was. “Thank you, General Paige,” Peter began slowly. “I really don’t know exactly where to begin, mainly because the beginning to all of this was not when I encountered the alien crew of the spaceship several days ago. In fact, what happened then was as much the culmination of events as a beginning. What occurred was simply the coincidental meeting of two distinctly different civilizations, one from perhaps the farthest reaches of our galaxy that just happened to occur on a planet in a small solar system with an average sun. Without the continuing efforts of those two civilizations over a protracted period of time—many hundreds of thousands, millions of years—that coincidental meeting would not have happened as it did. “What did happen was really quite simple. An alien spacecraft, supposedly on a routine mission of exploration of the galaxy in the vicinity of our solar system, had a mechanical failure that forced it to secretly land on our planet in the western desert of the United States about a week ago. A few days later, I just happened to be hiking with my dog, Chance, in the exact area where the aliens’ spaceship was located. As we were walking, we came upon what appeared to be a young child trapped among some scrub brush, attempting to get away from a coyote, which was attacking it. Upon moving closer, I could tell that the ‘child’ was a small, strange-looking creature that had been wounded by the coyote. At that point, the animal ran away, with Chance chasing after it. “A short time after arriving on the scene and attempting to offer some help, Chance, who had by then returned from chasing after the coyote, began to softly

growl. I glanced in the direction that he was looking and saw several similarlooking aliens standing about twenty-five to thirty feet away, watching us. Another, larger and different-looking alien, who reminded me at the time of the Klingon character from the TV series Star Trek, was standing with them. After that, events simply occurred as they occurred, without any real conscious thought. On the one hand, the situation was starkly new and unpredictable; on the other, it was simply a matter of someone being hurt and in need of help. In thinking back on it, I think that both sides saw the situation in the same way, regardless of the immense differences—our being separated not just by time and distance but by genetics and evolution.” At that point, Peter took out the translator and set it on the table. All other eyes were immediately drawn to the object. “I tried as best as I could to convey the idea of putting the injured alien on some sort of a makeshift stretcher, fashioned out of what was available from dead brush and my jacket. With that accomplished, we all started a long walk toward what appeared to be several large hills or sand dunes. The walk eventually took us back to their damaged spaceship, which had been made undetectable, I suspect, through some sort of electronic distortion of light waves. Along the way, I managed to establish a line of communications with the leader of the alien crew, the larger one that I mentioned, through this little device that I refer to as the translator. “The leader, who I think was of a different race altogether from the rest of the crew, explained to me, through this translator, the nature of their dilemma, and once we arrived at their immense ship, he took me inside to show me the damage to a stabilizer device that allows them to travel at near light speed, as I understand it. “That was after I had convinced him that perhaps his ship could possibly be repaired here on Earth, and if so, then they could safely depart. The only other option would be for them to depart with the stabilizer inoperative, but then they could not travel at near light speed and could not ever reach their planet. I never did find out, however, where exactly that is in our galaxy. “Their leader—again, I think of him as Klingon—and I discussed other things as we hiked to the spaceship and later, as I looked at the damage to the stabilizer inside the spaceship, but all of that can be pursued further throughout the weeks and months of continued as the repairs take place. For now, the important thing is to assess this situation in of the overall benefits that can be

achieved, and to proceed with developing a systematic plan to achieve that goal as quickly as possible—a plan that involves both the technologies here on Earth and those possessed by the aliens.” At this point, Peter paused to collect his thoughts. He had tried his best to explain his experience, but he knew that no amount of time and effort could sufficiently cover such a remarkable occurrence for those who had not actually been there. Any additional information was going to have to come out as circumstance dictated and as his mind recalled the full sequence of events and the attendant details. “I will be glad to answer any questions. I have tried to add more written detail in this briefing packet that I will hand out shortly, but I want to emphasize to all of you that this represents an opportunity for this planet and for mankind. From my perspective, I really can’t see any other way to approach this.” Complete quiet filled the room once Peter finished. As he looked around the table, it was difficult for him to determine just how effective he had been in influencing those present into a particular course of action. Even with his brother and Daryl in the room, he had a somewhat uncomfortable feeling about what was going to occur next. Just as he was about to say something, General Paige did it for him. “Thank you, Peter, for your direct input. I think that to set the stage for further discussion, we should go around the table to get some initial reaction to Peter’s story and general input from everyone. Then we should try to summarize the situation as we all see it at present and how we should respond to it, keeping in mind, as I mentioned earlier, that we must act in a timely manner. We must work quickly to achieve a focused approach, both short and long term, which must include a list of things to do and those who have to be on board to achieve them. “Let us begin with General Atkins’s perspective. We should establish the degree of understanding that we, as a group, have about the details of Peter’s story and how they contribute to our understanding of what we already know, for that will help us determine how quickly and aggressively we should act. We are interested only in the relevancy of his statements here today and the degree to which the evidence gives us the confidence to proceed to the next step. “Peter, we are not in any way questioning your honesty; let that be clear,”

General Paige stressed. “We are just trying to develop a better and clearer perspective about the events, because we will have to bring in others as well, and we want to make certain that we have a clear understanding of what we are up against.” He cleared his throat and then said, “General Atkins?” “Thank you, General Paige.” General Atkins put on his glasses that had been on a folder in front of him and then took out some papers. “I will address the credibility issue first, from the standpoint of approaching others with this classified information. Actually yesterday evening, when General Paige first ed me about this incredible story, he and I talked briefly about this very issue. We did not spend a lot of time on it, for we had already gotten input from others, including several at this table, that complete credibility already had already been fairly established through various occurrences over time, many of the details of which remain largely classified to this day. “So the details provided from Peter’s experience and point of view simply reinforce what is already a significant part of the historical context and record, although mostly kept from the public. In other words, the initial part of what we do will automatically involve revealing and ing further information as it comes about, thus expanding our knowledge base. The important thing, the general and I agreed, is to get involved quickly but cautiously. Let future events, as they unfold, speak to the continuing credibility of the situation, both from what Peter experienced and what he was told. “As to that, I think that we first of all have to reestablish with the alien crew, through Peter at first and then through a carefully chosen group—a small group—of technical people who can achieve at least a tentative feel for the situation and the probability of the type of action that Peter is proposing. I realize that that approach will be a ticklish proposition. Many things are at stake here—General Paige mentioned some of them earlier. If this is what we think it is, then it has the potential to carry with it both good and bad consequences. We have the responsibility to assure that our becoming involved will not unnecessarily jeopardize this country and its security, as well as the interests of other countries and their populations. “I’m not trying to sound overly cautions, but as events start unfolding at an everincreasing pace, and circumstances become more and more unpredictable and

potentially unmanageable, we cannot allow ourselves to lose control. As General Paige mentioned earlier, we must move quickly yet cautiously, lest this situation blow up in our faces, whether the participants are from this planet or not.” With that, General Atkins looked to his right, toward Daryl Stark. Daryl seemed a bit uncomfortable being in the spotlight. This is a first, thought Peter. Daryl not enjoying the spotlight. But after a brief hesitation, he took advantage of his moment in the sun. “I couldn’t agree more with you, General Atkins,” Daryl spoke decisively. “I’ve been in Washington long enough to know that, if someone can seize the moment and take advantage of such an earth-shattering occurrence, then it will eventually happen. That includes both politicians and the media. The problem always is, who will make the first move and what will be the motivation. “When Peter first brought up this story, three days ago, my first reaction was not one of believability but of how we can possibly keep the lid on this. There are just too many people in this town with so much to gain if they can leverage this information one way or the other for political of financial gain. It is going to be critical to get certain people on board who can help put a damper on the normal flow of gossip and innuendo that powers the social and political landscape. Otherwise, you will get too many questions with hard-to-manage and damaging implications if you don’t have the answers … and perhaps even if you do.” “Daryl?” General Paige inquired. “Do you have any individuals in mind who may try to cause problems in the event that they become aware of what is going on, as well as others who may be of help in that event?” “Well, General, I think that if you and I got together, along with General Atkins, we could come with a workable list. It would boil down to rounding up and isolating the usual suspects who hang out at the usual haunts, if you know what I mean. They would have to be persuaded to cooperate or not ‘graduate,’ so to speak. Most people in this town will automatically pick the path of least resistance, particularly when it comes to keeping their jobs and reputations intact. At a minimum, however, someone is going to have to come up with an initial list of people who must be brought into the loop, such as the president and those in the constitutional sequence of power, if nothing else. It’s one thing to keep a lid on this based on security concerns; it’s another to ignore the legitimate structure of decision-making power.”

Generals Paige and Atkins shared a momentary glance and then both looked at Daryl and nodded. Everyone in the room realized that just a small crack in their attempts to keep at least the early developments from public scrutiny could open the gates for politically motivated attacks from certain of Congress, plus justifiable concerns from the White House and the Pentagon. Concerns about encroaching media involvement went without question. On the one hand, there was the necessity for some initial deception in putting together a credible program for repairing the alien spaceship, if that was possible. On the other hand, it was going to be difficult to justify such behindthe-scenes secrecy and duplicity, when the story was eventually revealed. It had to be done, regardless of how much it might bother them and how much trouble it might eventually cause. Beyond the president and a few others, they were going to have to separate the wheat from the chaff, by identifying those who they knew they could trust to keep an oath of secrecy, from those who would violate it for a few pieces of silver, and put the pressure on them accordingly. “Paul,” General Paige continued down the table, “your thoughts so far?” Peter knew what his brother’s thoughts were from their earlier conversation and had full confidence in Paul’s of his . He now had no doubt that Paul’s earlier call to General Paige had helped set the stage for what had occurred since his arrival in Washington, particularly his initial meeting with the general. “Notwithstanding the fact that I’m Pete’s brother,” Paul began, “I have no problem with the details that he has revealed so far. What he has said seems highly probable, given what we know about the general nature of UFO encounters over the years and the constant activity on the part of the military and federal government to sit on that information or deny it altogether. There have been numerous encounters that continue to defy conventional explanation. Why should it be so incredible that sooner or later, one such encounter will prove undeniable? “I firmly believe that this is such an encounter, as you all do. The important thing for this country and for the world is to show a significantly more advanced civilization that we deserve to become what they have become—more advanced

intellectually and technologically. It may be our only way to assure our longterm survival. As Peter has stated, this is our opportunity to do so.” Peter wondered why the table conversation had begun with a discussion of the credibility of the details of his story. All along, he assumed that no one would question the validity of what he’d said, particularly with the translator device as proof. Yet General Paige had raised the issue of credibility, although he had not even hinted at it during their meeting yesterday morning. Indeed, the general had acted all along as if there were little or no question about the nature of Peter’s revelation. His brother had acted the same, as had Daryl, when Peter first mentioned it to them. Although both had posed serious questions, none had anything to do with the credibility of his story. He now realized that this concern had to do with the “selling” of his story to those outsiders they needed to bring into the loop. Before this encounter was revealed to others, all of the relevant details had to be vetted for absolute credibility; otherwise, no one would want to risk a career on something that would sound like just another alien abduction story, with a media life of just a few days. Those sitting around this table wanted to make dead certain that Peter’s story had “legs” and could stand the intense scrutiny that would ensue. Another thing that Peter now questioned, however, was how General Paige was able to organize this meeting so quickly—literally overnight. At the end of yesterday’s meeting, he had mentioned that it might take several days to those with whom he and Peter would want to meet, yet he had been called late yesterday afternoon about being here first thing this morning. And now, his brother made reference to the fact that he, along with everyone else in the room, was already committed to the reality of the existence of the aliens. It was almost as if they knew or suspected that the alien spaceship had landed on Earth, even before Peter’s encounter. If true, no wonder Paul was so agreeable, as was Daryl—and for that matter, General Paige. Apparently, it was common knowledge to the inner circle. But that being the case, why didn’t they try to discourage Peter or somehow prevent him from pursuing the issue, if they had wanted the story kept a secret. Something else must have occurred that made it imperative that some action be taken, while at the same time still keeping it a secret based on national security interests.

Before General Paige called upon Katrina Douglas from NASA to make her comments, Peter spoke up. “Excuse me, but I’m getting the impression that this meeting was called as quickly as it was because all of you, or at least some of you, in this room already knew about the alien landing or suspected that it had occurred. You were already in the process of trying to figure out how you could control events surrounding the landing, so that the media and the public would not find out about it. Only a few knew about it, until I had my unlikely encounter. I was the first one to know about it, outside of the inner circle here, and therefore, you had to figure out how to handle me, didn’t you, Paul? And Daryl, how about you? I wondered how you were able to a ranking member of the t Chiefs of Staff, for God’s sake, so quickly. I think that this all started with Paul, who ed his friend, General Paige, telling him that his little brother had become involved and was committed to letting the cat out of the bag. Something was already going on, wasn’t it? These people that you invited, General Paige, wouldn’t have been here so quickly if what I had to tell didn’t coincide with some other related aspect of the story. Am I right, General?” Every head turned to look at the general. General Paige and General Atkins glanced at one another and then both looked toward Katrina Douglas. “Dr. Douglas,” General Paige said quietly, “it looks like you’re up.” Katrina Douglas looked decidedly uncomfortable for a second or two, as if the music had suddenly stopped and all of the chairs had been taken. She couldn’t sit, but she also could not get off the dance floor. Slowly, however, her composure returned. “You’re quite perceptive, Mr. Harrigan. For someone not directly connected to this beehive here in Washington—or maybe it’s really a wasp nest—on a day-today basis, it certainly hasn’t taken you long to develop a good sense of how we go about manipulating people, places, and things to fit our homegrown version of reality. Let me start by summarizing, as best I can, your little experience in the context of what we know and what you suspect, so that we are all up-to-date. First of all, you have a chance encounter with alien beings and their spacecraft. You are truly not the first person on this planet to have that happen to him. At NASA, at the Pentagon, in the intelligence community, and at the federal level, there generally has been enough evidence collected to more than the fact

that this planet has been visited—over a considerable period of time—by beings from other sectors in our galaxy. “At this time, I cannot go into any of those details because most remain classified, other than to say that we recently detected the presence of your alien spaceship approaching our solar system. At some time after it first appeared, it seemed to behave erratically, almost as if it was, at times, out of control. It would suddenly appear and then, just as suddenly, disappear. We suspected that perhaps it had some sort of a cloaking device, which you now have confirmed and referred to as an ‘electronic distortion of light waves,’ if I correctly. In any event, we lost track of it as it was approaching the vicinity of Earth. We suspected the possibility of its perhaps having to land on the planet, although we did not know exactly where. “Anyway, you have this encounter several days ago, and you sincerely feel that the people of this planet have an obligation to do something to help out the aliens stranded on Earth, so that they can safely return to their home. You your brother, who has worked for NASA for many years. You tell him your story and your plan. Yes, he s General Paige, his friend and former coworker at NASA, concerning your story, not just to fill him in on your intended visit to Washington, DC, and to ask him to help you, but to warn him that the cat was out of the bag, as you put it. “Your friend Daryl Stark was also ed for the same reason, although by General Paige. They, however, were not trying to figure out how to control you and your story but how to control, within the Washington basin, access to the known and unknown factors relating to the actual presence of the aliens on the planet, given the details of your encounter. “You see, you have brought important new information—the fact that the alien spacecraft suffered a malfunction while conducting a reconnaissance mission in the vicinity of our solar system; the fact that they have established a way station or way stations, somewhere in between here and their own planet; the fact that there is supposedly another, larger spacecraft located somewhere near one of these way stations that could act on a rescue mission, if the ship here cannot be repaired; the fact that they are exploring the possible ramifications, including interplanetary collisions, of an interaction between a dwarf galaxy and our own Milky Way; and the fact that they have supposedly not only visited this planet many times in our distant past but have actually interacted genetically with

human evolution. “These are important developments, wouldn’t you agree? With this new information, the scope of the situation that we have suspected was occurring for the past several years has now grown almost exponentially. At this point, we believe that your proposed approach is certainly worth exploring. To tell you the truth, without the information that you have supplied, the idea of developing a program to assist the alien crew would not and could not have been considered. Now, we have an entirely new direction to pursue. We have to figure out the best way to begin involving the several governments allied with us, as well as their agencies, that can assist in this monumental undertaking without unleashing public reactions that probably would make any chance of success nearly impossible. “But there are precautions to be considered. One, we really do not know anything about these aliens and their real intentions. Why are they involved in exploring our neighborhood in the first place? Two, why are there way stations and the ‘rescue ship’? If the damaged ship cannot safely proceed toward their home planet, is this rescue ship going to come to the rescue, and if so, how close to our planet? Three, with all of this involvement in and around our solar system, what are they trying to achieve? Are they planning on establishing a permanent presence somewhere nearby? Four, what is the true significance of the concern about possible planetary collisions in light of the supposed interaction of a dwarf galaxy with the Milky Way? Is it possible that their own planet is considered in danger, and they are looking for some sort of a safe haven for their civilization in the event that their planed is destroyed? “Mr. Harrigan, yours is certainly a big story in and of itself, but I think that you must agree that there are other just as important considerations. We have to make certain of what we are going to decide here today. A critical mistake made so early in the game could be costly beyond our ability to imagine at this point. We have to proceed very cautiously.” Peter looked away from Katrina Douglas to the rest of the individuals seated around the table, as if he was seeing them and the room for the first time. He had been so wrapped up in her comments that he had forgotten for the moment that they were a part of the larger meeting. He noticed that the rest of them seemed to be quietly staring at the center of the table, presumably lost in the complexity of what they were facing.

General Paige cleared his throat with a series of quick coughs and then looked at Dr. Karl Holzhauer. “Dr. Holzhauer, anything to add or detract from what has already been mentioned?” Dr. Holzhauer shifted in his chair, perhaps to give himself time to mentally return back to the general nature of the conversation. “Thank you, General Paige,” he quietly said. “After having listened to everything that has been said here this morning, I really cannot think of anything constructive to add. It is all very apparent as to what has occurred. It will take some time—not that we really have much time—to come to grips with the implications of it all. Hopefully, we will have the capacity to do just that, without creating too many roadblocks for ourselves along the way. To briefly reiterate a rationale for the basic nature of this occurrence, there is more than ample evidence to the thesis that this planet has experienced alien activity repeatedly over many thousands of years. Now, it would appear that we are on the brink of having to acknowledge and deal with that fact in our own time, without the ability to deny and cover up any longer. “The most important factor, in my opinion, if we do indeed proceed with some kind of a repair on the alien spaceship, will be how readily the industrialized nations of the planet and their respective governments can harness their resources to begin coping with the tremendous investment that will be called for. Right now, we can only begin to imagine what we will be called upon to do to accomplish this task, assuming that it can be done at all. The gap in technologies has to be staggering, all of which speaks to the necessity of bringing those who have to be involved on board just as quickly as possible. Other than that, I have nothing more to add, at this time, General Paige.” General Paige quickly looked around the room to see if anyone else wanted to throw in a quick comment. Not getting any response, he quietly said, “Well, Peter, there you have it.”

Chapter 9

T he room was quiet. To Peter, it felt as if the entire world had stopped turning, waiting for the next revelation in a story that had suddenly become very bizarre. Gravity was the only real thing remaining to hold the universe together. If anyone dared move, the spell would be broken, and existence itself would spin off into the blackness of the limitless void. He wanted to say something— anything—that would make the eerie sensation go away and bring back the comfortable world that he had known just five days ago. Like the others, he chose to remain quiet and still. The silence was broken by General Paige. After all, this was his party. “Okay, everyone, we have to start focusing on the important things right now. Ms. Douglas has done a great job of summarizing the immediate situation before us —much better, I think, than anyone else could have. Peter, I apologize for any deception over the past few days, but it was necessary. We had to hear your version of events before we could reveal to you what your government knows about the most recent visitation of alien beings. As Katrina mentioned at the end of her comments, you have provided very valuable information concerning that event. “Your brother certainly believed the details of your story, because he has been continually involved in this ongoing saga of UFO events throughout his years in the NASA space program. He has been outsourced to a number of intelligencegathering agencies dealing with UFOs for some time. His call to me was to inform me of your alien encounter but also to see if I thought it warranted bringing you on board, which it did. Your friend Daryl likewise believed the details your story. Daryl has also been working with a number of behind-thescenes agencies here in Washington and is well connected and informed, to say the least, with this ongoing situation. When your brother reminded me of your continuing friendship with Daryl and that he was one of the persons to whom you would be talking during your visit here, I ed Daryl, just to let him know that I was interested and would make myself available to meet with you. All he had to do was call me, and I would arrange a meeting with you.

“Just so you know, I also believed the details of your encounter being the real thing. The problem was with the others here this morning. General Atkins, Karl, and Dr. Douglas wanted to meet you, hear your version of the story for themselves, and see the critical piece of evidence before they would jump on board. That has happened. Now, we have to quickly put together a comprehensive approach. Again, we all have to be committed to this effort for it to have any chance of success, including deciding who to involve and how much to tell them, at least initially. Peter? After all that you have heard this morning, what are your thoughts at this moment?” “I’m not so sure anymore, to tell you the truth. It sounds like this has already taken on a life of its own, well beyond my involvement. What I thought could be a somewhat simple story, although with a problematic outcome, now has turned into such a convoluted story of intrigue and possible deceit that I’m not sure at this point that we can agree or count on a desired resolution. It’s involved enough just with the six of us; what happens when that number reaches several hundred people? Who is going to be able to control that madhouse? And we haven’t even taken into the of the alien crew and those of the other ship, heaven forbid. What will they have to say or do about the planning of events that will have a direct impact on them?” General Paige quietly looked around the table at the persons he had asked to come on board to handle the critical details. Now was the time to hand out assignments to see if they could get the job done. He had to act with a positive outlook from the very beginning in order to get everyone upbeat and engaged. Otherwise, things could start to fall apart early on. “Okay. Peter, I think that we understand your sentiments at this point. However, we will not know the exact obstacles in our way until we start moving in a direction. If that direction does not work, then we will simply have to shift gears and head in a new one. For now, we will start at the very beginning, which is your second meeting with the alien crew and their commander, this Klingon character. That will involve reestablishing and then arranging an initial meeting with the people you mentioned could help out; that would be us and would involve an inspection of the spacecraft, at least from the standpoint of the mechanical failure. “That new should be attempted now, Peter. If it goes well, maybe we can glean some vital information from the ship’s commander that would help us

better prepare for the journey to the location of the ship and the inspection. I say that because while they may still be on Earth, they may have moved their ship to a new location to avoid detection. Before Peter initiates the call, let us briefly discuss how involved it should be in of what we want to find out and what information we are willing to share with them at this point. Anyone? General Atkins, go ahead,” General Paige said in response to a raised hand. “Well,” General Atkins began, “I agree that reestablishing with the alien crew at this time is the first order of business. We need to firm up exactly what their situation is, what their understanding is with regard to what Peter and the ship’s commander discussed earlier, and if they are willing and ready to do whatever it takes to accomplish the repair of their ship. Second, Peter should assert that everyone realizes how important it is to proceed as secretly and cautiously as possible, for everyone’s benefit, and that we are ready and able to control things on our side to assure their security. Third, it must be understood that the repair may take some time, so it is imperative that we arrange a meeting as soon as possible to accurately assess the type and extent of damage to the craft. Then, if necessary, agreement must be reached as to how to best proceed with setting up the necessary personnel, facilities, equipment, and other resources to accomplish the task. Hopefully, the alien commander will realize that there is no other approach for them, short of taking off from Earth, assuming that they haven’t already done so, with the stabilizer inoperative, and taking their chances with meeting up with the other ship in the area, what Katrina referred as the ‘rescue ship.’ “As the conversation unfolds, perhaps we can get a feel for any other indications that all may not be exactly as Peter has interpreted events and statements—or as he may have been led to believe those events and statements. I think that Dr. Douglas’s earlier comments regarding other possible scenarios for the aliens’ presence, some not entirely beneficial to us, must be taken into consideration. The sooner that we can get a firmer handle on those possibilities, the better prepared we can be. That is why we need to be present when Peter makes this call.” General Paige slowly nodded his head in agreement. When General Atkins finished, General Paige paused, as if in thought, and then looked around the room for someone else’s input. “Dr. Holzhauer?”

“I also agree with Dr. Douglas’s cautionary comments,” he began. “We have to be as certain as we can be that we have correctly ascertained the exact nature of the situation. If we start off on the wrong footing, we run the risk of exposing ourselves to unnecessary risks, exposing vulnerabilities that we may not be able to overcome. Simply consider the level of their technology compared to ours; the level of their knowledge and sophistication compared to ours. We have no idea how capable their truly are. Perhaps they have the capacity to tap into the very conversation that we are having at this very moment. Improbable, perhaps, but that is the problem—we just do not know. “As Katrina stated, the exact nature of the situation may not be as simple as a mere breakdown of one of their ships, particularly if there are more of them in the vicinity of our solar system. That would suggest a much larger activity than a simple exploration based on curiosity. It would seem to indicate the possibility that they know something and are on a serious mission.” “I think that we must create some decision points before we can feel comfortable with proceeding with a continuous plan,” Paul said, jumping into the conversation. “Otherwise, we will always question every aspect of whatever plan we come up with. I would think that the aliens would feel the same way. The decision points would be times when we pause to take stock of where we are, what we know—or don’t know, what we need to know, or what redundancies we have. If we don’t feel comfortable—if we feel more than just uncomfortable; if we feel threatened—then we should be prepared to pause and consider another approach. Right now, we are trying to come up with something concrete, something that will lay a foundation for our efforts without knowing much of anything, really.” “Okay,” said General Paige, hands firmly on the table in front of him, as if to create maximum emphasis, “let’s just take this one step at a time, knowing beforehand that we will have to make adjustments as events unfold. Peter, make the call now. We will all listen to the conversation without input at first. Peter will simply lay out the current state of affairs. We need to see the crippled spaceship to get an accurate evaluation of the necessary repairs. While there, we will mention to the crew exactly what we have been discussing, stating our concerns and the need to know more about their activities. We will just have to play our hand one card at a time. Okay? Peter?”

Chapter 10

P eter was not certain but agreed that the next step had to be reestablishing with the alien spaceship. He could only hope that the situation had not changed in any substantial way since he and Chance has driven away from that desert location five days ago. There was no way to know without making the call. Peter picked up the translator device and without hesitation, he initiated the call the way that Klingon had indicated. The LED-type lights flashed across a small screen, but that was all that occurred. What did I expect? he wondered. A dial tone and then a ring? Those seated around the table waited for several seconds more before they detected that the device was emitting a faint noise. It was fuzzy-sounding at first and then, with more clarity, a distant, metallic-sounding voice came forth. “I have been waiting for your call for some time. We were starting to get concerned, wondering what success you were having concerning the repair to the stabilizer. What do you have to report?” Peter was justifiably happy that the call went through but was now concerned about how to approach the subjects that had to be discussed. He felt that he had established a rapport with the ship’s commander earlier, but now he wondered if they could pick up where they had left off on that night in the desert. Before he responded, he glanced at the others assembled around General Paige’s conference table. To a person, they all had the most astonished expressions on their faces. This moment represented the true reality of the story that Peter had told. Even though most of them had an inkling of what was taking place before Peter showed up—probably from intelligence agency reports—the alien commander’s voice coming across the translator device was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to them. “I have done what I said that I would do,” Peter replied. “I have met with the very people who will be able to help you. They are with me now, as a matter of fact, listening to this call. They want me to relay to you that they are willing and

ready to help you and your crew in any way that they can, in order to begin the repair on the stabilizer. The next step will have to involve their visiting your spaceship as soon as possible, to evaluate for themselves the exact nature of the malfunction, so that they will know how to proceed with the repair. A lot of things have to be discussed and decided.” The group waited for a reply. Peter wondered if he should say “over” when he was finished talking to indicate when Klingon should respond. But only a second or two later, he did. “Have you taken into consideration what we talked about concerning not involving too many others? I realize that if the repair can be accomplished, it will require the involvement of many of your people, but I insist that the number be restricted absolutely to the smallest number necessary. We are all fearful of the consequences of the panic that would ensue, should this become an open subject.” “I can assure you that that particular subject has been discussed at some length, including just before this call, and that we are all in agreement with your position,” Peter quickly replied. “And part of that concern is to begin this process as quickly and as quietly as possible, before the story begins to leak out, which it eventually will do. Hopefully, we will have completed the repair before that happens, and you will be well on your way across the galaxy. From our perspective, we will be able to report on a mission accomplished in a timely fashion. The next step now is to get on with working out the many details. Are you prepared for the next meeting, say in two days’ time … or less?” Again, there was a brief moment’s hesitation before the response. “Yes. We are prepared. We are in the same location as before. Let me know when you are approaching, and I will suspend the cloaking mechanism as you get nearer. Let us plan on forty-eight hours, in your time, from now. If you decide that it must be sooner than that, me.” “We will do that. I do have one question before we sign off. In case we do run into some insurmountable problems with this plan, have you made with one of your ships that may be in a position to provide rescue for you, in the event you have to depart with the stabilizer still inoperative?” The silence was longer than before. Peter had asked the question because of the

earlier speculation about the “real purpose” of the aliens being in and around Earth’s solar system. He ed, too late, that he thought that General Paige had proposed asking such questions during the second meeting. He now hoped that the question would not prove premature. “No. We have continued to attempt with whichever of our ships might be near enough to respond to our dilemma, but none has. Before we had to land on your planet, we were considerably far away from any of our way stations and of our other exploratory vessels. They very well may have received our calls for assistance and may be in the process of responding, but we have received no reply to that effect.” “Very well. Thank you,” Peter replied. “We will be in with you very shortly with any update to the situation, as well as when we are approaching your position. For now, this is the end of our conversation until we meet in two days’ time—or sooner, if necessary.” Peter silenced the translator. The room was silent as well. The people assembled around the general’s table all appeared occupied in quiet contemplation. After the much-anticipated with the commander of the alien spaceship, the after-the-fact reality in the room was much like the aftermath of a robust sexual encounter—the quick release of tension produced by spent ion that leaves the participants somewhat confused and out of place, if only for the moment. General Paige was the first to respond. “Well done, Peter! You handled that quite well indeed. I do not know about the rest of you, but I feel more confident now that we can really get this thing off the ground at last, although I think that we all picked up the alien’s statement about more than one other ship being in the vicinity. How about comments from everyone around the table. General Atkins, your assessment.” “Well, for the most part, I share your sentiment. I have to it that I find this whole thing astounding, now that we have actually heard from an alien presence. It is one thing to sit here, as we have been this morning, talking about this situation from an arm’s length, textbook approach but quite another to be faced with the sudden reality that we are actually the first persons to hear a voice from another part of our galaxy.” “Not if you consider the statement made by Klingon concerning alien visitations

many centuries earlier, well before the present era,” Peter chimed in. “ his statement about their altering our human DNA early in our evolution? According to those statements, many seemingly ed by our own historical s, those s were much more involved than what we’re facing. They were, in all probability, a determining factor in the development over the millennia into what we now think of as the human species. Without that , we might still be swinging on vines from tree to tree” “That may be an exaggeration, Peter,” General Paige responded. “After all, that was the alien’s statement made during your initial conversation with him. He may have been trying to simply spin a yarn to impress you. While there may be some truth to it, if it was such a foregone conclusion, you would think that more concrete evidence would have been discovered that would irrefutably it.” “That sounds just like the weak arguments made against the idea of man’s involvement in the process of global warming or the harmful effects of smoking,” Peter interjected. “There will never be enough evidence to convince the skeptics. Regardless of the eventual truth, we must keep an open mind, particularly in light of this new, undeniable reality.” “True enough, Peter,” the general conceded. “Dr. Holzhauer, you’ve indicated that you have something to say.” “Yes. I think that we should turn our attention to what we should be doing between now and the inspection of the alien ship in two day’s time. We should start to put together an initial list of people from the critical scientific disciplines in space technology, both in governments that have ongoing space programs and in those corporations that have been principally involved in ing those exploration efforts. Building the momentum for a project of this size will require a sizeable amount of planning, input, and fine tuning in a variety of areas. If it turns out that we can assist the aliens in repairing this stabilizer mechanism, we will have to present the capability of being able to organize and manage a program that is, at best, on the very fringe of our capacities to accomplish. Otherwise, we will have to it that, as I think someone put it earlier, we are just not ready to play among the stars.” “A good suggestion, Karl, as time seems to be running out for us this morning. I know that both General Atkins and I have some pressing engagements awaiting

us that are now even more pressing, in that we had to postpone them for this important meeting. Let’s do this: Karl, you and Dr. Douglas start to put together the list of scientists you trust to begin working on the early stages of this project. By trust I mean not only their work and experience in the their respective fields but also their ability to work away from their normal lives for what could very well be a prolonged period, both in isolation and secrecy. They would have to understand that they would be getting into something of the highest national security, which would mean that they would have to qualify for the highest security levels. In fact, that really should be your first consideration. If they already have high-level security clearances, so much the better. “I would recommend that you have Paul on as a consultant in this process. I do not think that his mind is so feeble at this point, that he cannot the many colleagues that he has worked with over the years, many of whom might still be around and up to the task,” the general said with a smile. “Also, he has many more years in the space exploration game than even you, Katrina, so maybe that additional insight will prove valuable. I’m not suggesting that any one of you be in charge of this. Consider this to be the beginning salvo in a battle that will require a lot of cooperative effort on everyone’s part. Any questions from the three of you before I go on to the next assignment? Oh, before you answer, be sure to include in all of this where you would recommend that the repair work would best be done, keeping in mind that even though the ship’s stabilizer is not functional, the ship can still reposition, based on Peter’s input, to any remote facility with the necessary requirements, which you also will have to analyze. Questions? No? “In that case, let me move on in the short time remaining. Daryl, I’m going to give you the solo assignment. Your list is to include the decision makers and not just the politicians, such as certain of Congress or the White House, but the representatives of the corporations that do business directly with the federal government in the area of national defense. They will, in all probability, be doing work for NASA as well. The same requirements apply here as for the scientists. These people likely already know the penalties of speaking out of school. Contracts have been won and lost by misplaced discretion, as you also know. You must stress that this is not a competitive bid situation. We do not even have time for that. For the political leaders across the board, we cannot take the time to play the current game of having to find a budget cut first in order to approve an expense. You are going to have to go to the very top in both parties and in both houses—and in many cases it will be the same people—and impress

upon them the need for their cooperation in this matter. Any questions from you?” “No questions as such,” Daryl responded, “except to say that certain people may have to be hit upside the head with more than one two-by-four before they see the light of day—particularly when I have to be discreet about what I can tell them. They’re not all that quick on the uptake to begin with, if you know what I mean. Probably too many rounds of golf in the midday sun. I may just have to throw a few names around, such as yours and General Atkins’s, to fully impress them about the importance of climbing on board the train before it leaves the station without them, carrying their political careers away with it.” “Let me know who may be resisting,” General Paige intoned, “and General Atkins and I will apply the requisite pressure. I still haven’t fully informed you what General Atkins’s position in this really is, and I will not. Suffice it to say that there is no one in Washington—and I truly mean no one—whom the general cannot call directly. And the people he is calling will answer, I assure you. “Peter, you are going to function primarily as our with the commander of the alien craft. I think that you were right when you thought that you established a rapport with that individual. Regardless, you are the only ‘earthling’ with whom he has had . It is very important to continue that connection and that trust. You will be the one taking us to the site of the craft and introducing us to the alien crew, so you are our representative, perhaps during the entire plan. In the meantime, arrangements have been made for all of you to stay at the same hotel as Peter for the next few days. Take advantage of that convenience, while you are working on your individual assignments, to tap into one another’s brains for additional input. , this must remain a cooperative effort, if we are to succeed. “Peter, you do not have a direct assignment tonight, but you do have the opportunity to look in on Karl, Katrina, and Paul as they work on their list of scientists and any other experts that they might consider to be of help. Also, you and Daryl can get together, as time permits, to brainstorm on Daryl’s list. Okay, let’s adjourn for the day. Work on your assignments as diligently as possible between now and tomorrow at 0800 sharp. At that time, regardless of where you may be in your endeavors, we will come up with a credible schedule of future events that we can then present to Klingon, with the caveat, however, that it may change with the introduction of new information as we proceed. See you all

tomorrow.” As they were filing out of the general’s office and into the corridor, Peter gently bumped into Lt. Colonel Bradford as she was walking past the doorway. He had to bend quickly to catch her with one of his arms to prevent her from falling, and in doing so, their faces ed close to one another. They both politely apologized, and remained standing close to each other as the others ed by. “Sorry, Colonel Bradford, I really should have looked before I walked into the hallway.” “No need for that, Mr. Harrigan. I had something on my mind and wasn’t paying attention to what was happening. In fact, I was thinking about you, so you are the reason for us bumping into one another.” “Me? Well, I guess that I should be apologizing after all, then.” “No, I should be the one. I was rude to you yesterday, when I chastised you for not addressing me correctly by rank. That was unprofessional of me.” “No offense taken, Colonel, I assure you. I certainly did not consider you to be unprofessional in any way. I fact, just the opposite. In the future, I will just have to pay attention and look for you everywhere, although I must it that I did enjoy bumping into you, if I may say that.” Colonel Bradford looked at Peter, a slight smile on her face. “Well, Mr. Harrigan,” she quietly said, “I certainly won’t discourage you from looking for me in the future—to prevent our colliding in the hallway, of course. As to bumping into you, the pleasure was all mine.” The two of them went on their separate ways but thought the same thoughts.

Chapter 11

T ubrang Gilf had been anticipating the call from the human. The intervening days since the initial had been unnerving, as the crew awaited from the primary ship in the exploratory formation. The commander of the disabled ship wondered how to continue to keep the truth from the inhabitants of this planet in the time remaining. The inquisitiveness of these life-forms was problematic, as was true of past encounters. This most recent was not supposed to have occurred under any circumstances. That had been one of the highest priorities set by the Council prior to the departure of the formation. Their stipulation had been that there be absolutely no surface made with the inhabitants of the planet during the initial phase. But the AKAR had had no choice but to set down on the planet, once the primary malfunction had taken place. Yes, the stabilizer had been damaged, as he had told the human. And yes, the ship’s ability to fly had been hampered by that. But there was no reason at that time to have landed on the planet. They could have possibly proceeded to the Cryon way station and waited there for the arrival of one of the supply ships, each carrying a large amount of repair parts, along with its larger cache of other necessary supplies that would help the Colony ships throughout their long journey. But the subsequent malfunction, not directly related to the failure of the stabilizer, it seemed, meant that remaining in space without the ability to maintain a viable atmosphere for long was an impossibility. Still, the chance encounter by the human with one of the ship’s crew in the remote desert was something that could have been avoided. That crew member was not supposed to have left the ship but had insisted on gathering some preliminary data from the planet’s surface in search of some vital minerals that would eventually be needed shortly after the arrival of the first of the Colony ships. Since the crew member was closely related to one of the Council’s senior , there was not much that the ship’s commander could have done at the time to ultimately have prevented it. Even a remote relation of a Council member could exercise an inordinate amount of power at times, despite the light-

years of distance. Tubrang Gilf almost hoped that the primitive, flesh-eating creature that had attacked it would have been successful in carrying it off. Instead, the human had been successful in rescuing it from a certain death. The commander still had to reconcile how it felt about that fact. The troublesome crew member deserved what had happened, but the AKAR supposed that the human deserved credit for its bravery and for its curiosity. That had been somewhat of a surprise. To think that that particular life form was capable of the sort of decisive, innovative action that the human had exhibited. But it tended to make the commander agree even more with how the ships’ crews had been briefed by the Council prior to departure of the exploratory formation: avoid all unnecessary outside . Now, the problematic situation simply had to be controlled in the interim. When questioned by the human as to why they had landed on the planet, the AKAR felt the need to come up with a credible explanation and had mentioned the failure of the stabilizer. It was, of course, only a partial truth but convenient. Unfortunately, it had led to the human’s suggestion that a repair of the stabilizer was a possibility, while the ship was stranded on their planet. That this mixture of differing life-forms could even begin to effect any sort of meaningful repair on a Council vessel was utterly ridiculous, particularly with their childish attempts at a serious space exploration program. Yet here the ship’s commander was, caught in this situation partially of its own creation. It had to know what was being planned by these creatures, so that it could respond accordingly and not jeopardize the possible resettlement plans. It had to buy time, and letting them work on some outlandish action to repair its ship, which was perfectly expendable in the end, was a good way to accomplish that part of the plan. It would undoubtedly take them some amount of time just to figure whether or not they had the technology to take on the task, if they ever would be able to figure it out. By then, events would have conspired to render their efforts meaningless. Nonetheless, it had to be careful just how cooperative it was, for it did not want to reveal too much in the process. Just enough to keep them occupied but not enough to encourage their curiosity and make them seek answers to questions that they should not ask. Again—that damned curiosity!

As Tubrang Gilf was getting ready to walk the ship for the second time this day, the translator device sounded the receipt of an incoming transmission. It recognized the device calling as the one that it had entrusted to the human several Earth days ago. It glanced at the ship’s command assistant for a brief moment, indicating that this was the awaited with the humans. This was the call over which it had been agonizing ever since that evening when the human and its animal left. Again, the commander regretted having agreed to the human’s proposal but knew that there really was no other choice. The call went almost exactly as he had anticipated. After all, the next step to any ship’s repair had to be an assessment of the extent of damage, not only to the stabilizer but to any other component that could have been affected by the failure. So far, the crew had not been able to discover any connection between the stabilizer failure and that of the ship’s atmosphere generation system. The two failures had not occurred at exactly the same time, but that did not preclude any connection. The AKAR commander and the crew had gone through an extensive training in the ship’s systems before it was put in service, but that training did not include many aspects related to the ship’s actual design elements and construction. The most that they knew was how to operate the ship’s systems during normal conditions and during the few emergency situations that might develop. But, as he told the human, emergency situations involving the ship’s operating systems were, in general, simply not expected to occur. That certainly was the case with the stabilizer. It had simply never been known to fail. But now that both the stabilizer and atmosphere generation system were down, the crew responsible for ship’s repairs were struggling for answers. After the call was completed, Tubrang Gilf knew that he had no choice but to continue with their repair plan. Again, it did not have much confidence in Earth’s inhabitants being able to effect much of a repair, but hopefully they would take an inordinate amount of time to reach that conclusion, which would play nicely into the time frame within which they were now operating. He had not heard from any of the other exploration ships or from the Colony ships farther away in quite some time. He hoped that meant that everything was on schedule, even though it was a tentative schedule at best.

It was still hard for the commander to believe that its home solar system, which had been in existence for eons, was now threatened by the very phenomenon that it had revealed to the earthling—namely, the slow collision over millions of years of a dwarf galaxy with its own galaxy and that of the humans, the one that they referred to as the Milky Way. The planet of the humans was now deemed safe for the time being, although Earth had been hit much earlier in the process, so it could occur again. Now, other bodies embedded in the dwarf galaxy were on an apparent collision course with the commander’s planetary system, particularly its home planet, one that had been the home of so many generations before and was now the only home known by an ever-increasing and large number of inhabitants. Before the recent risk of collision, the problem had been one of overpopulation, with the burgeoning population straining the planet’s ever-dwindling vital resources. Now, with the double threat of a planetary collision, the problem of the survival of the population became paramount. Once this was revealed to the Council, it had set out to plan a response worthy of the tremendous threat posed. It had endeavored to reach a treaty with some of the other planets in neighboring star systems to carry out rescue missions necessary to establish resettlement colonies of displaced inhabitants from planets directly threatened by the imminent collision with invading interplanetary bodies, whether planet-like in size or smaller, asteroid-like, to help stave off the mass extinction of races. However, once the projected figures of those who would most likely need resettling within the impacted solar systems were revealed, it became apparent that other options would be required, if all of the inhabitants affected were to have any chance of survival. Thus, the plan for a more long-range resettlement of affected populations was developed for as many of their citizens as possible. Scientists pored over data collected during eons of exploration of planetary systems in the farthest reaches of the galaxy that might be capable of ing life, even if supplemental means were necessary to guarantee at least short-term survival. Vessels that could make long journeys to determine the current viability of various planets’ atmospheres and other resources were built. Crews were trained who could withstand the rigors of such long voyages aboard the exploration ships, along with larger ships that would follow, carrying vital supplies. Way stations were built to help the endeavor across the vast expanses.

The ultimate development was the building of huge Colony ships. At the appropriate time, these ships, laden with city-sized populations and city-sized supplies of all kinds, would set out into an unknown future, yet safe for the time being from a horrendous, unstoppable death that would have eliminated all aspects of life. That part of the Milky Way containing those threatened solar systems and their planets would suffer a calamitous fate and be devoid of the knowledge of what had once existed. Travel and resettlement of the portion that could be rescued—even if it meant a long, tedious journey—would at least allow the survivors to keep the memories of their past lives on those planets alive and them on to their future generations. The AKAR was on one of those exploration ships. It had been engaged in exploring suitable sites for resettlement for much of its life and the lives of the ship’s crew. The vast distances traveled had made it difficult to maintain on a consistent basis with the various way stations and the ships involved. Communications were at times haphazard. At this point, the stranded crew had not made with anyone else in many Earth-based weeks. They were unaware of the location of any of the other vessels. By now, however, the Colony ships would certainly be on their way, although far behind the ships. The way stations were staffed and supplied by the ships. If the atmosphere generator could at least be repaired, then the crew could depart and make way for the nearest station to report that the planet on which they had been forced to land on appeared to be suitable, pending a current environmental survey, for some re-colonization, which the scientists had hoped for. The data from exploration of this solar system, and with the primitive inhabitants of this planet from long ago had described it as capable of ing a wide range of life-forms. The problem now would be the current generation of inhabitants of this planet. What impact had they had on the planet in the intervening years? What problems would arise and how would they be resolved, should the order come to begin the resettlement efforts? Would they understand the efforts of the inhabitants of distant planets striving to avoid annihilation, even if that meant having those inhabitants force themselves onto a world occupied by another significant species without that species’ concurrence? All that Tubrang Gilf knew at this point was that it would carry out the official

orders, whenever they might come and whatever they might be. In the meantime, it had to play for time. If the ship’s crew could find the cause of the problem with the atmosphere generator, despite any ongoing attempts to repair the stabilizer, maybe they could once again play a significant role in reinventing the future of their threatened civilization.

Chapter 12

Wednesday morning, June 16

P eter awoke, tired, at just 6:00 a.m. He hadn’t gotten much sleep at all, after spending the late afternoon, and most of the evening listening to Karl, Katrina, and Paul as they worked on their lists of critically important things that had to be scheduled and scientists that might be worthy of inviting to the party. He had continued into the wee morning hours looking over Daryl’s shoulder as he put together his assault on the bastions of Washington that would include the most influential Congress, the White House, and others who frequented the trendy spots and smoked horribly expensive cigars and drank the rarest of scotches. His would be the most potentially hazardous undertaking, for everyone and everything that he would touch over the next day or so would measure Daryl’s pitch in of how it might enhance their prospects of getting into or remaining in positions of power and influence. And the currency of power in Washington was the knowledge that one had power and influence that others did not. Those with whom he met, therefore, would have to view the carefully chosen information that he was willing to share as having a hell of a lot of purchasing power in the political marketplace. Waking up, Peter ed not only that there was another meeting in the general’s office in two hours’ time but also what General Paige had said to him at the end of yesterday’s meeting—namely, that Peter would function as the direct with the crew, particularly the ship’s commander, Klingon. This brought to mind the fact that Peter had begun to question his characterization of the alien crew leader’s appearance and even the appearances of many of the ship’s crew. He had continued to refer to their leader as Klingon during the two meetings with General Paige, because it was convenient to do so. But the more he thought

about the events of almost a week ago, the more he became concerned that his descriptions might be misleading for those now involved in putting together the initial aspects of his plan. They might have a very different impression overall when they first saw exactly what the alien creatures looked like. What will their reactions be? he thought. Will they be able to present a business-as-usual appearance? Will the aliens? Upon first with them in the desert, Peter had put his own spin on that subject while reacting to the frightening aspect of their standing just feet away from him and their injured companion. He hadn’t bothered to reconsider that first impression, because he had been trying to put everything into perspective, particularly how events would progress and end. It wasn’t until two days later, when reliving those events, that his mind conjured up images of the aliens that might not necessarily ring true with his earlier impressions. He didn’t bother to correct himself while relating his story to others, because he needed time for his brain to finish painting all of the details into a clearer picture and for him to come to grips with that reality. Now, he had to it to himself that he might also be shocked and surprised by those appearances when the second took place in a little over twenty-four hours. Might his mind be suffering from a sort of delayed reaction to those events that initially clouded his perspective of what really happened? Had that perhaps led to a partial amnesia and was just now starting to reveal emotions and details not previously acknowledged? Another of Peter’s realizations was that he had never asked the leader if it went by any particular name or some other form by which it could be referred. He did that the ship’s commander had mentioned that it was an “AKAR,” but that sounded like a position of some sort and not a personal name. Peter realized also that he had not given his own name, or explained how people were named, or how a name became an integral part of a person’s identity. What created personal identity for creatures from so far away and from another civilization altogether? He was going through this thought process, because he realized that when they arrived at the alien craft, they would have to identify themselves in some way— not just by name but by position and relevance as well. That meeting would be, Peter hoped, the beginning of a long and involved process that went well, with few glitches. The general had mentioned the word trust several times over the

past two days. That was going to be the crux of this next meeting, to somehow begin to develop the same kind of rapport between the aliens and the new arrivals that the general thought had been established between Peter and the alien ship’s leader. But before that critical encounter tomorrow, much had to be done, the thought of which shifted Peter’s attention back to yesterday afternoon and the work sessions that had lasted into the very early morning hours. Katrina, Karl, and Paul had developed their list of scientists from a wide variety of space-related and academic disciplines. They soon realized, however, that until they could develop the relevant details about the nature of the work to be done—when, where, and under whose auspices—they could not be sure who they might need. They would need those kinds of details in order to sound convincing enough for many of them to commit to such a rigorous, demanding task on such short notice. There had to be a pull so strong and undeniable that anyone even remotely interested in space and exploring the heavens—and possible in meeting creatures from outer space—would automatically enlist. However, that all hinged on a credible story, based on the hard evidence available so far and told in a very believable way. Bottom line: they had to be convincing. So they shifted their attention to those critical details, knowing full well that many of them awaited that inspection visit to the spaceship. In the meantime, they could at least come up with a few likely locations at which the work could be accomplished in a safe and secure environment. That meant somewhere in a remote spot, one already developed and with the primary ingredients already in place, such as hangars and runways and heavy equipment. Area 51 was mentioned—that infamous, not-so-secret “secret” base in the southwest desert, sometimes referred as “Dreamland,” near the sleepy little town of Las Vegas. It had been responsible over the years for the development of some of the United States’ most sensitive, high-tech military aircraft and of course, it was the supposed home of numerous alien spacecraft. But that idea was shelved for the moment because once the mission leaked—and it would—that would be the most likely place that the media and the public, particularly the UFO conspiracy theorists, would turn. Another place would have to be found, and it would need to be a military base, preferably one in a remote section of the country that had perhaps been shut down and mothballed within the last five to ten years but that still had all of the

necessary equipment that could be brought back into service almost immediately —a base that would be close enough to the location of the alien spacecraft that when it had to be moved from its desert site, it could be flown there quickly, in the dark of night, and with its cloaking device on. According to Peter, the ship’s commander had mentioned that the ship could still operate, just not at near light speed. So, that should not be a problem. A call was placed to General Paige to see if either he or General Atkins could quickly provide a list, however small, of bases that might meet the criteria. Time was important, for there were many details that could not be worked out until there was a secure location to which things could be quietly shipped and secured, such as all of the supplies that would have to be in place before the necessary complement of people showed up and began working. The group realized just how critical their immediate task was, because everything hinged on finding and supplying this secret location. Besides the obvious large items, there would be an almost continuous struggle to supply the myriad items, large and small, that would have to be ordered, shipped, and distributed. On top of that, systems and facilities would have to be brought up to speed, such as monitored communications systems, heating and air conditioning systems, housing and eating facilities, transportation depots, fueling stations, and parking. Literally hundreds of other important factors would come to mind as well in the days ahead and would have to be quickly dealt with. And all of this would have to be done in no more than just a month or so and would have to be accomplished quietly, without any outside knowledge whatsoever. It became obvious that they would have to bring a lot more people on board, not just the scientists and technicians—and quickly!. As Peter finished showering and got dressed, he realized that he was going to miss breakfast if he were to make the van that was to take them to the Pentagon. He also realized that this morning’s meeting was going to be a grueling one, based on the fact that so much still needed to be done. So much to do, so little time … He wondered if the aliens felt any of this pressure, if they would ever appreciate what the human race was trying to do for them. He also thought about how much he wouldn’t mind “bumping”’ into Lt. Colonel Bradford again, although without so many people milling about. The name that came to mind as he was thinking about her, however, was “Sara.”

At 8:10, they were all seated around the table in General Paige’s office. As they walked into his office at precisely 8:00, Peter was relieved to spy a table in the corner loaded with coffee, tea, milk, juice, and assorted bagels and donuts. The general “ordered” them to quickly help themselves so that the meeting could get underway. Now, they were munching away delightedly, while listening to his opening remarks. “Things are moving along quickly this morning. I want to thank both the group that was working away on the list of scientists, and Daryl, who was putting together a battle plan for here in Washington. Your reports submitted late last night—actually, very early this morning—were most timely and helpful. I have to it that I did underestimate the overwhelming detail that we are faced with in putting this endeavor together. “The logistical detail is not so much the problem, actually, because the military is accustomed to moving around lots of men and material as it is the time frame. That, and the fact that much of what we may end up doing, including your input, has to remain in suspension until after we conduct our inspection, which is tomorrow. We are going to be in place for that inspection by 1000 hours local time tomorrow morning, which means that we will have to leave Andrews by 2000 hours local time here this evening. That will give us five hours to get to a secret installation that I will get to shortly, arriving at 2200 hours, local time. The remaining time will be spent completing the organizing and loading of the equipment we will need, which is already in the process of being assembled and airmailed. We will then proceed to the alien landing site at 0700 hours, again local time, on the seventeenth. “Now, we do have the coordinates for the alien location—Peter was helpful with that. But we were fairly certain earlier of the general area where the landing had probably occurred. We won’t have any problem knowing where they are located, but when Peter notifies them of our pending arrival, he will have to request that they momentarily suspend the cloaking device, so that we can better locate their ship. Last night, the group of Karl, Katrina, and Paul sent an urgent message regarding the possible use of an out-of-the-way airbase, preferably a military airbase, for any repair work that might be done on the alien craft. They requested that a short list be forwarded to them, so that they could firm up a recommendation in that regard. Your insight and foresight on that issue was

nothing short of amazing. If a repair of that magnitude, both in scope and technical requirements, is to be accomplished, it will certainly require a location that can be kept secure and as secret as possible, a matter that we all discussed earlier. “Such an airfield exists, and it will be sufficient both as a base for initiating the inspection and also for the repair, should that occur. Actually, after I requested the list from you three, General Atkins assured me that the remote base that we are going to use as our launching pad for the inspection tomorrow would be more than suitable for the repair as well. It is quite secure and secret, and we want it to remain so; it is basically a site with no name, so we could not provide that name last night for obvious reasons. Those working there will travel to and from it at night, so as to minimize anyone figuring out where it might be located by tracking known sites on the ground. It was a strong possibility all along to use it, almost from the very beginning of the story breaking, despite any request on my part for your recommendation. “Now, I imagine that the initial approach to the landing site and the initial meeting with the alien crew will be awkward. After all, we will be approaching their ship in two helicopters with a fair-sized team. At first, it was just going to be those of us at this table, without any ; the staff would have remained behind, awaiting further orders. But further thought on the matter raised the specter of time and opportunity. “When we conduct the inspection of the damage, if we can determine a probable fix or at least an initial approach in the right direction, and we can convince the captain of the ship to agree on that approach, then there will be no reason not to request that the spaceship be moved at that time to the new location to begin the repair. It will take some time to affect such a repair, so we might as well start as soon as possible. That will require that a number of people be present at the landing site and back at the base.” “General,” Peter spoke up, “I certainly didn’t anticipate such an abrupt, fullblown approach to this first meeting—the inspection—and I don’t think that Klingon did either. While we didn’t exactly discuss the matter in any detail, I think that we both assumed that this meeting tomorrow would be somewhat low key, with everyone getting to know one another and building a sense of trust and purpose, coupled with an in-depth inspection of the damage and further discussion of what to do and how to do it. The way that you are describing it

seems as if you’re intending to take over the show. Don’t you think that the aliens might be alarmed with that approach and decide to depart and take their chances with trying to reach a way station or one of their ships that might be en route, rather than lose control over their situation entirely if they accede to your wishes?” “Yes, it could very well happen that way,” the general quickly responded, “which is why we should be prepared to let the commander know up front what we would like to do to assist, if the damage warrants, and then let it and the rest of the ship’s crew know that the decision, one way or the other, is entirely up to them. All I am saying here is that we should already have certain things in place, so that we can begin operating as expeditiously as possible, as soon as possible. Up front, we do not know what barriers and delays we are going to encounter. The sooner we start the process, the sooner we will get a clearer idea about the exact nature of the problem or problems that we face. And we will have to get this information out to a large body of people across the various disciplines. From there, it will probably take some time for them to get their act together, before we can actually begin to scale up to the task. Any other comments on this?” As Peter looked around the table, he could see that the others appeared to be in agreement with General Paige. He, too, could see the general’s point. This really was not a social club they were attending. The situation demanded that whatever action was necessary be started immediately. Still, he felt that some diplomacy was called for, since the alien crew could very well come across with some untenable requests or demands of their own. A mind-set would have to be worked on that would allow for some disagreement, as long as there was a shared vision as to what was to be accomplished. The “how” portion of the endeavor would be the big thing to deal with on a daily basis. “General, don’t you think that the aliens should be apprised of what we have been discussing here ahead of time, particularly the scope of our initial visit and inspection, so that they can be better prepared before hand?” The question came from Karl Holzhauer, who had been busily writing on a tablet in front of him. “That will hopefully ease some uncertainty on their part and possibly help expedite the issues to be covered during the meeting. They might even have some input for us to consider between now and tomorrow when Peter s them later.”

“All right,” the general said, nodding his head, “that sounds reasonable enough. But let’s keep it simple. Basically, all we have to do ahead of time is stress our willingness to assist in whatever manner. In order to accomplish that and be ready, we need to come prepared with required personnel and equipment. If we should find that we cannot help, then we will pull back, and they then have to make whatever decision is best for them, under the circumstances. Does that sound about right to you, Peter?” “Yes, General, it does. I propose that we Klingon and the crew before the end of this meeting, after we have finished discussing whatever details remain.” “Very well. Now, where was I, before Peter so rudely interrupted me?” he said with a stern expression, yet with the hint of a smile on his lips.

Chapter 13

T he meeting ended precisely at 1000 hours. Generals Paige and Atkins still had a number of critical items to handle to assure that everything and everyone would be in place at the “base with no name,” and the required personnel would be ready to proceed to the landing site. The rest of the group had returned directly to the hotel to prepare for the 2000 hour departure. For Peter, now that the time for reuniting with the alien crew was quickly drawing closer, his thoughts on the van ride back were focused on the hope that the future chain of events would unfold without a hitch, a hope that he carried with more than just a hint of dread. That feeling did not change later, as the flight from Andrews Air Force Base headed westward, and as the date changed to June 17, one week since his encounter in the desert. It wasn’t comforting to him that he was returning to the “scene of the crime,” although there was satisfaction in what he had managed to achieve in a week’s time. The more he thought about it, as the US Air Force C-17 Globe Master III kept speeding closer to its destination with its human and material cargo, the more he was thankful to be returning, however slowly, to his love of archaeology and anthropology, the peace and serenity of the desert wilderness—the base elements of his life. They had given him, along with his other accomplishments, an anchor since losing Kristen. Now, if only his wife could have been here to make his soul complete again. It had been almost three years since her sudden death from a heart attack. So early in life; then again, the argument could be made that we all die before our time. He had not been prepared at all. His wife had been only forty-two and “healthy as a horse,” which she loved to ride so much. Who could be prepared for that? That genetic factor, however, had turned up during the autopsy. Neither of them had been aware of it, for Kristen had been adopted as a child. Still, it bothered him long after. If only … It had been no consolation to learn of the number of women who are taken away each year by heart disease—the leading cause of death for women. It was no

coincidence, since women had become a larger figure in men’s workaday world, vying for chairman of the board during the day, soccer practice for the children in the evening, and seeking to have it all in the process. What a Pyrrhic victory, after all of those protest marches over the years—women beginning to gain the things they should have had all along, only to discover that the price of obtaining that hip in the good-ol’-boys club was the stress and related physical problems that went along with busting through the glass ceiling. Most of the time now, whenever Peter was in the desert, a part of him would still riding with Kristen in the early morning hours, with Chance right alongside. The visions would still be as crystal clear as the rocks glistening from the rising sun in the early chill of the desert-dry air. He really hadn’t wanted to sell the horses, but he did and then converted the small stable into a storage/work area. It hadn’t helped much; then again, nothing had helped early on, except his work and trying to find his remaining identity. It had taken him a while, but he had slowly come back—but not entirely. He had had to learn how to pocket those feelings of regret and loneliness, frustration and anger, and the loss of belonging to someone, long enough to reconnect himself to what remained of his world. He could let those emotions wash over him only in the unguarded moments in the desert, with his dog. Gradually, he found that while time did not entirely heal the truly painful wounds, it did dull them sufficiently, so that he could function again successfully. She would have wanted him to find happiness again, he knew. The plane jolted suddenly, and Peter was forced back to the reality of the moment. He became aware of distinct flashes of light briefly illuminating the pitch-black sky. Each time they revealed only a deep opaqueness—no details, just the churning tumult inside a raging thunderstorm. He must have dozed off for some time. Everyone in the cargo area was sitting still, with eyes opened wide, tightly buckled into their seats, grasping the armrests with whitened knuckles. His brother, Paul, must have noticed that Peter was awake, for he leaned close to him and spoke over the sounds of the turmoil outside. “We’re in a severe line of thunderstorms, with tops above forty thousand feet. It stretches all the way from the Texas Panhandle to Chicago at this point. We’re likely to be in it for several hundred miles more. The good news is that our destination should be clear by the time we arrive.” He pointed to the flashing Fasten Your Seatbelt sign

overhead. “The flight crew is working with air traffic control, trying to find a smoother ride for us. It helps when you have some high brass from the military on board. General Atkins excused himself shortly after we ran into this mess and hasn’t returned since. As soon as he got up to go to the head, General Paige motioned to that major over there and barked some orders. I can only imagine that they had something to do with getting us the hell out of this turbulence.” “It’s a good thing that I don’t have any sort of motion sickness,” Peter shouted back, “or it would have been a foot race between me and the general for control of the … ‘head,’ which I guess is proper military talk for toilet.” “He probably would have pulled rank on you in any event, and it’s impossible to barf out the window at thirty-six thousand feet. That’s why God invented highaltitude sickness bags, you know, although I don’t think you would have had time to actually find one on this plane. I think you’re supposed to just suck it up and be a man—although you’ll never hear me say that to the general!” “I hope that you’re right about the base being clear by the time we get there,” Peter said. “I don’t want anything to interfere with these early plans. It’s important to get things off to a good start. I just hope that this storm system, as widespread as it seems to be, doesn’t delay the arrival of other flights into this secret base. By the way, Paul, do you know anything about it that you’re not revealing?” “I don’t know anything specific about it, if that’s what you’re insinuating. Over the last fifteen years or so, there have been some sketchy rumors floating around about some super-secret base, rumors attributed only to the usual highly placed sources in each case, of course. But I’ve only heard about them second- and third-hand. Supposedly, the decision was made, again at the highest levels, to allow Area 51 to become the absolute focal point for all of the national interest revolving around UFOs; the development of secret aircraft based on alien technology, including flying saucers; and the whole subject of a government cover-up of things going bump in the night. Part of the rumor was that the government—the military, really—actually orchestrated this, even promoted it, to further encourage the media, the public, and those conspiracy theorists to focus their ever-increasing attention exclusively on Area 51. That then gave the military the perfect opportunity to secretly develop another Area 51-type facility entirely outside the scope of all that attention. It was to be kept so secret that the base would literally have no name whatsoever, other than ‘the base with no

name.’ When General Paige used that exact reference at the meeting earlier, it pretty well confirmed for me that the rumor is true. “Area 51 is really nothing more now than a sham,” Paul continued. “There may very well be something going on, just to rattle the cage of those still trying to unravel the mystery of it all, but apparently all of the heady stuff, the stuff that created the legend and the name of Dreamland was transferred over to this other base. I don’t think that much has been going on there recently, particularly after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War, but I could be wrong. That brings to mind something that I observed quite a while ago that I’ve never mentioned to anyone, and it involves the area around Area 51. Before the terrorist attacks on 9/11 destroyed the World Trade Center towers and damaged the Pentagon using commercial aircraft, certain individuals could, with the proper FAA and airline authorization, jump seat on commercial flights. By that I mean ride in the cockpit with the flight crew. For pilots moving to and from their scheduled lines of flight, it meant that they could conveniently position themselves. If a seat happened to be available in the cabin, the captain might let the jumpseater ride back there, enjoying a more relaxed flight. “Now, after 9/11, I believe that only FAA inspectors are allowed in the cockpit, due to increased security measures. But the point I want to make is that others could jump seat as well, including certain NASA employees like me. So, there I was on an American DC-10 flight to Los Angeles, a flight that I had been on before but never in the cockpit. Believe me, you get an entirely different perspective looking directly out the cockpit windows. And the DC-10 had some of the largest side cockpit windows in the industry, which is where the jump seat was located, right by this large window behind the captain’s seat. “So, we were at thirty-four thousand feet and in the vicinity of Area 51, according to the copilot, which is somewhere northwest of Las Vegas and right along our filed flight path. I had been looking out the window all along but then with a bit more interest. It’s funny how the eye catches movement, sometimes more peripherally than directly. I saw the movement of this aircraft low on the desert in the corner of my eye. It looked like one of those stealth fighter aircraft —the F-117. Actually, I could see more of the shadow of the plane moving very quickly across the desert than I could see the plane itself. I watched for some seconds more and then observed the plane flying into a quite large hill or mountain—not crashing into the side of the hill but flying into the hill itself. The plane simply disappeared! There was no fireball; the plane just cleanly and

immediately disappeared! I couldn’t believe my eyes! “My first response was to shout out to the pilots, ‘Hey, I just saw a plane fly right into a hill and disappear!’ But I’m glad I wasn’t that impulsive. I’m sure that they would have thought I was a loony, regardless of whether or not I worked for NASA. In fact, it’s possible that they would have felt compelled to report my claim to air traffic control, even though it was based only on my word. But you have to believe me, Peter, I know what I saw. I’ve thought about it many times since then. It was no illusion. I saw the aircraft fly right inside of that hill and disappear, which is why I’m not even beginning to question this rumor about some super-secret base—the ‘base with no name.’ I’m sure that even stranger things are going on, such as those secret underground facilities that can house aircraft, which is where that aircraft I saw no doubt was heading. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if that is exactly what our destination turns out to be—just another secret facility that doesn’t exist, dealing with secret equipment that don’t exist either, along with the nonexistent technology that can repair this alien spaceship.” Before Peter could respond, the aircraft made a sharp turn, followed by a very rapid descent and a slowing of the aircraft’s engines. The overall effect was immediately disorienting. With everything so dark outside and no reference to the ground to help with orientation, it was impossible to tell what was up or down, left or right. And the fluctuating cabin pressure in descent did not help either, as it caused Peter’s ears to block up momentarily, followed by loss of balance—a feeling of vertigo, as if his brain was turning somersaults inside his skull. Outside, the sound of the four jet engines spooling up again was followed by the pressure of bodies forced suddenly back against the seats, as the jet seemed to level off. The loud engine whine continued, and the speed of the aircraft increased. No one on board—at least in the cargo area—moved a muscle. It had been some time since word had filtered back to the engers concerning the thunderstorms. Was this maneuvering a necessary way of extricating them from those storm hazards? Peter had noticed earlier that the lightning had apparently stopped, along with the shuddering, as the aircraft had been repeatedly blown up and down and sideways during the worst of the weather. Had they left the storms behind? If so, then why these gut-wrenching twists and turns? Everyone else seemed to ponder

their fate as well, looking around the cargo area, hoping someone would say something to ease the tension. All of a sudden, a defused aura of very bright, flashing lights streamed through the few windows located nearby—and then were just as suddenly gone. The noise of the four jet engines quieted, leaving the feeling that the large jet was floating rather than soaring. Then the jolt, as if the aircraft had hit something hard. The engines spooled up yet again, but this time the roar was deafening. Peter felt as if his body was being thrown sideways with great force. The C-17 had landed and was using reverse engine thrust to aid in braking prior to turning off the runway. That was followed by five to ten minutes of taxiing, until the aircraft came to a stop, and everything became quiet. No one moved; being in a military aircraft, everyone waited for orders. Just as General Paige seemed to be getting ready to issue those orders, a bell began ringing in the rear of the aircraft, along with a yellow rotating light. The rear cargo door began to open. As the opening continued to enlarge and bright outside light entered the cargo area, those inside the plane could see numerous personnel and equipment standing by on the tarmac, waiting to offload the sizeable amount of material that had been shipped from Andrews, along with the several dozen engers. “Okay, people!” the general at last shouted. “Slowly make your way down the aircraft ramp at the rear of the plane. Personnel are waiting to assist you to your correct locations at the field, based on the tags that you were instructed to pin to your uniforms or civilian clothing. Those people accompanying me and General Atkins, make your way into the terminal building to your right as you exit, and assemble in the lounge. General Atkins and I will meet you there shortly.” Peter and his brother walked down the ramp and toward the base terminal, along with Daryl Stark, Karl Holzhauer, and Katrina Douglas. Others on board were doing the same. There was some pushing and shoving, but everyone moved quietly. The rising noise level came from some of the waiting equipment as their engines were started, along with a series of orders that were barked out over a loud speaker. Inside, they proceeded to a sitting area nearest the marked restrooms and food and drink machines. Everything appeared to be clean and operating. The ride had been long and tiring, made worse by the weather along the way. They all felt

battle-fatigued but knew that genuine rest was a long way off. Their nighttime adventure was just beginning, for much remained to be done before the rendezvous with the stranded alien craft and its crew could even take place. And then, the real purpose for their being here would begin. They would have to spend time in accurately assessing the situation and hopefully would arrive at an initial approach to a solution, if one was possible. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but my first order of business is to visit the ladies room,” Katrina said with no small sense of urgency. While most of those on board had undoubtedly gone to the ship’s heads at least once during the flight, Peter speculated that Dr. Douglas had opted not to, perhaps to maintain a personal sense of female decorum among a sea of mostly men. In any event, she did not waste time working her way to the ladies room door. Just as she was about to enter, she remarked, “Now if someone would only greet me with a nice, dry martini when I exit, that would be greatly appreciated. But I don’t suppose that will happen, will it?” Everyone within earshot laughed. Whatever tension there was in the terminal immediately was broken, so much so that those in the crowd thought about nothing other than a stiff drink or a cold beer and maybe a smoke. “So what are some thoughts concerning what lies ahead?” asked Karl as the group, minus Katrina, settled around a small table. “I hope that we can keep our wits ,” Paul answered. “We’re tired—I don’t think anyone got much rest on the plane, although Peter managed to nod off for about thirty minutes, so I hope there will be some time, however short, to get some rest, so that we can think more clearly when the time comes. Getting even half an hour of sleep can make all the difference. This was made graphically apparent during the various early space missions of both Gemini and Apollo. As they became longer and more complex, taking time out to rest the crews became absolutely necessary—certainly with the Apollo missions to the moon and most certainly during the aborted Apollo 13 mission. Your mind can only creatively function for a fairly limited time, maybe ten to twelve hours max, before every critical mental function starts to become impaired. We’ve already been on the go now for at least sixteen hours.” “Well, we were delayed somewhat en route because of weather, but it’s only about eleven p.m., local time,” Peter commented. “General Paige wants us out of

here, wherever here is, by 0700, so that we can be on site by 1000, local. Let’s see what he has in store for us when he and General Atkins get here. It might not be a bad idea for us to mention something to him as quickly as possible about all of us getting at least a little rest. When we get a better idea of what our work schedule is going to be before we shove off for the spaceship, maybe we can work out a staggered sleep schedule. I hope that three hours is enough time to get to the ship by 1000.” “I was just thinking about that,” Katrina mentioned, as she reed the group at the table. She seemed more that a little put out. Perhaps because no martini was awaiting her return, Peter thought. “We have to make certain that everything that has been planned for can be accomplished in enough time to be ready early enough,” Katrina said, “so that there is ample time remaining to get to the site by 1000 hours. Most of us don’t know the particulars. As soon as the generals appear, we’ll all need to be fully briefed. Before we start this odyssey, we all have to be up to speed on what the expectations for success are and what it is going to take to achieve it. I understand that General Paige is trying to keep all of this under the radar for as long as possible, but he has to realize that we are integral to the success of this mission, and we need to be included more in the planning and execution.” “I could not agree with you more, Katrina.” The general had approached the group as Katrina was talking, from an angle that prevented her from noticing his arrival. Karl and Paul, however, had a full view of General Paige and had tried to signal Katrina ahead of time, without success. When the general spoke, she froze in position for a second before turning to greet him. “General Paige, you startled me!” she said. “I hope that you were not offended by my comments. I certainly did not mean them as a personal criticism in any way.” “No offense taken,” the general replied. “I heard most of what you said and, as I just mentioned, I agree with you. The truth of the matter is that I had to keep certain things from you all for safety and security reasons, even during our meetings in the Pentagon, which does not have a completely airtight atmosphere. Leaks have been known to occur, and it is imperative to keep the lid on our intentions and preparations. At this stage, the only people, other than us, who

have been thoroughly briefed on this mission include the president, her chief of staff and national security advisor, the vice president, the t Chiefs of Staff, the secretary of state, the secretary of defense, the Speaker of the House, and the president pro temp of the Senate. And speaking of preparations, General Atkins is taking care of those as we speak, and I can assure you that they will be completed in enough time for us to make our on-site arrival time. “Having said that, are you prepared for that full briefing that someone here thinks is so important? When we are finished, there will be enough time remaining for all of you to get a few hours’ sleep. I think that today may prove to be a tiring experience for all of us.” With that, General Paige pulled up a chair from a nearby table and started to around information sheets marked “Top Secret—Extremely Sensitive Material.”

Chapter 14

Thursday morning, June 17

T he small convoy of vehicles approached the alien landing site as the sun was starting to rise in the east. They had landed and off-loaded a short time ago from two CH-46D Chinook helicopters. Slowly, those compelling desert images that were so ingrained in Peter’s mind came into daytime focus again. As he looked out the window of the Hummer personnel vehicle, the experiences over all of those years flashed before him like the shimmering desert heat of afternoon—so close in memory yet ephemeral, like smoke rising from a campfire, their earthly substance replaced only by the mind’s mental images of events long past. Their briefing and discussion prior to setting out for the rendezvous had been complete enough. It had involved the crux of the mission itself—what was to be accomplished, how it was to be conducted, and each person’s responsibilities in that regard; the equipment necessary to facilitate success; and the measure of initial success. Much depended on how well the two parties could agree on the desired outcome and how to initiate the process, the thought being that most of that would hinge on how the aliens reacted to the humans’ presence and proposals. They could very well have issues with their own positions that would have an impact on the mission. If there was to be any resistance, then the humans would have to back off and give the alien crew physical and psychological room to consider any alternatives. Time and timing would be the thing. Those first few minutes of would be crucial to the entire plan. For instance, there had been some discussion about how close to the location of the spaceship they should approach. They all had concluded that they should remain at some distance, so as not to give the appearance of an “invading force,” as Peter had expressed it. Only the group of six—Peter, Paul, Daryl, Karl, Katrina, and General Paige—would initially approach the ship. General Atkins had not ed them but had remained behind at the base to oversee any additional efforts that might be necessary, given the unfolding of events at the

site. Once at the spaceship and at the time of renewed with the alien captain, Peter would reintroduce himself, and then he would introduce the remaining of the group, one at a time and with explanations as to who they were and their importance for being there. The remaining of this initial expedition to the site, those who would have the relevant expertise to conduct an inspection, would remain at the vehicles, until it was time for them to be summoned. As the convoy stopped at the predetermined spot, Peter felt the anxiety come to the surface that he had been suppressing since he had climbed on board the Hummer several hours ago. It was possible that in the next few minutes or hours, this whole thing could come unglued. During the briefing/discussion earlier, they had tried to work on various contingencies to accommodate the almost inevitable changes in their proposed schedule of events. Now was the time to see how well they had anticipated the variables. Based on a last-minute change, only Peter approached the site of the spacecraft, which was not covered up by the cloaking device as they approached. The others in the group were left standing near the vehicles. He tried to just where the hatch was located that the crew and he had used to enter the ship. He needn’t have worried. When he was within a hundred feet or so of the craft, the hatch began to slowly open. When the hatch was fully open, Klingon emerged. The alien stood five to ten feet from the opening, facing Peter as he arrived on scene. To Peter, his memory of the alien’s appearance was just about dead-on. It still reminded him of the Star Trek character for the most part. It did, however, appear slightly taller than Peter had ed. That and the solid, muscular build made the creature a bit more formidable than before. “We have been expecting you since your last ,” it said as Peter stood nearby “We are hopeful that you have something beneficial to report. Otherwise, our time here grows short.” “I am hopeful as well,” Peter replied. “I have brought those I mentioned earlier, along with several technically qualified individuals who are more than ready to assist you and your crew in whatever way possible. This group has the ability to

organize the worldwide efforts that will be necessary to successfully complete a repair on your ship. After much discussion, based on my report of the situation, they suspect that this endeavor could very well prove to be a rather lengthy and time-consuming one, particularly if new materials and production methods need to be developed, even if all goes according to plan. However, right now, they need to do an on-site evaluation of the damage, along with your technicians, before a plan can be developed. With your permission, I would like to introduce you to some of them at this time.” Klingon turned his attention to the others still standing by the military vehicles positioned close by and indicated his approval by motioning with his claw-like hand for them to come forward. Peter then lifted his arm and waved for them to come to the ship. As they approached, the alien commander seemed to be evaluating them, even from a distance, as to their suitability. When they arrived, Peter stood aside and made their introductions as best he could, starting with General Paige and finishing with his brother, Paul. Even though the alien spoke near-perfect English through his translator device, it was difficult to get a sense of a natural give-and-take—a connectivity. It was surreal for Peter to see General Paige and Klingon playing their respective roles as leaders, when the two civilizations represented were separated by such a vast expanse of space, time, and technology. To Peter, both the group of humans who had recently arrived at this desert location and the aliens who had traveled the vast stellar distances of space to get here were equally alien. It was difficult to imagine that there could ever be a coming together of the minds and efforts in such short order. The introductions completed, Peter next tentatively laid out both the format of the inspection and the functions of the technicians and personnel who were waiting in the vehicles to begin viewing the damaged area of the ship. He reemphasized that General Paige would be the commander’s counterpart while they were here and that General Paige and Peter would brief it as to the probable schedule of events afterward, if the inspection determined that repair to the damaged stabilizer was feasible. At that time, if necessary, they also proposed a short meeting in which questions could be asked, so that there would be no initial misunderstandings, and no important detail would be overlooked. With that, Klingon then lead the group, including the technicians who had also approached, into the disabled ship. The layout was generally as Peter

ed it. As they were escorted around, more details revealed themselves to him. He noticed a smaller number of crew present than last time. Because the ship was disabled, there was not a lot of activity observed. The ship’s control room, which Peter had seen when entering the ship the first time, appeared to be staffed with minimal personnel, and the spaces and ageways leading up to the damaged stabilizer seemed to be equally devoid of crew , as was the voluminous room that held it. The source of most of the commotion going on came from the visitors themselves—the of his group, the NASA technicians, and some security personnel—who were constantly looking back and forth, trying to take in all of the aspects of the ship’s inner workings and trying also to accommodate themselves to the reality of finally being where they were. There was no denial now of the existence of alien life-forms. They were all around, and this was their spaceship. As all entered the cavernous room that housed the stabilizer, there was audible oohing and aahing from everyone on the inspection team. Peter realized that he had not displayed quite that amazed reaction when he first was in this area of the ship—no doubt because he was not in the business of studying the universe and trying to unlock its mysteries. Also, he was more than a little overwhelmed and distracted by the nature of what was happening, including whether or not he and Chance would survive the experience. The others, however, particularly those like his brother, Paul, whose very being lived and breathed the wonders of infinity and the search for the universal constant that would readily explain the makeup and functioning of the universe, realized exactly the miraculous accomplishments that were on display. For earthlings, these were marvels that would not be realized until numerous earthbound generations had come and gone, accomplishing in their existence small but significant advances over time that would eventually add up to what they were now witnessing inside this vessel. Peter knew that if the aliens were willing to share even a small part of their technology, Earth and its inhabitants could make quantum technological leaps into the future in a much shorter time. But that was the question for the NASA technicians, the military, the politicians, and, eventually, the world at large—would these aliens share their advanced technology willingly, as part of the allied effort to repair their ship, or would they husband their advantage over the earthlings, meting it out piece by piece,

perhaps fearing that revealing too much too soon to these still-primitive lifeforms would only cause a spiraling out of control as they proved themselves incapable of handling the stark realities of such power? Peter had to wonder just how many times over the millennia the aliens had observed man’s efforts to systematically try to destroy its civilizations on Earth, using ever-increasing advances in technology to make the efforts more efficient and deadly. While looking around, Peter noticed that General Paige and Klingon appeared to be carrying on a quiet conversation off to the side, much to his surprise—this, while the human technicians were advancing on the stabilizer to begin the inspection. He also saw that his brother, along with Karl, Daryl, and Katrina, were huddled in conversation nearby, all the while glancing back and forth from the work going on at the stabilizer and the little meeting going on between the two leaders. Peter didn’t know which way to go first, to begin the task of working with General Paige, as suggested, in briefing Klingon on the probable schedule of events, or to find out if his brother and the others from his group had any questions and/or observations that might need addressing before he and General Paige began working with Klingon. After mentally flipping a coin, he decided to the conversation with his brother and the others. As they noticed him approaching, they all turned toward him with smiles, but their eyes seemed to reveal something other than peace and happiness. “What’s going on?” he asked, the best comment he could come up with under the circumstances. “We’re not really sure,” Paul replied. “The NASA scientists and technicians are just getting into position to inspect the damage. They seem to be a little on edge, however, which is to be expected. Just what are the expectations here in of getting the cooperation of the alien technicians? We discussed the need for that earlier, given the fact that we are dealing with a level of technology that we could only hope of attaining in the next ten thousand years. “So, here we are with that,” Paul continued, motioning toward the stabilizer, “and it appears that neither side has a sense of just when and how to proceed toward some level of cooperation. This is their ship; we just can’t waltz in here and take over, in no small part because we simply aren’t familiar with any of this! I suppose what I’m saying is that it may take more time than we anticipated

before we can really do a competent inspection of the situation. “We probably should have given all of this a lot more consideration, if we were going to be prepared to do what we said we would do. But, that’s the other side of the problem—we don’t have a lot of time, do we? Again, the expectations. Our expectation is that we can help with the repair, if it’s possible to do one. Their expectation is that we should be able to do it with some dispatch, as they would probably do it, if they had to. We have to bring the expectations in line, if we are to have any hope of achieving what we and they would like to achieve.” “But,” Peter replied, “you said that the technicians have just gotten into position. Yes, all of this is strange to them, but it also has to be strange, at least a little, for the aliens. Why doesn’t someone simply tell our technicians to go through the motions of doing an inspection, as if they really know what they’re about. Who knows what they may find about the damage that they do, indeed, understand? As they are going through the paces, perhaps the alien crew will also understand that there are some things that they can do and should do to help out. The basic problem, if I correctly, is that only certain personnel can use the translator devices to communicate in other languages, which is a problem if our technicians have questions for the alien crew, as they undoubtedly will. I’m going over to interrupt the general and Klingon to see if we can get this thing off and running.” With that, Peter approached the two leaders. As he got closer, he heard General Paige mention something about possibly having to move the spaceship to a location more suitable for the repair. When the general noticed Peter approaching, he broke off the conversation and turned to greet him. “Peter, the commander and I were just beginning to discuss some of the initial details of the repair operation. I think that we are in agreement that the effort needs to be as broad-based as necessary, in order for the repair to be accomplished in the shortest time possible. We need to tap into the highest level of technology worldwide, both in aerospace and the industrial marketplace. I believe that I have convinced him that while we are, perhaps, centuries behind them, we do possess the ability to learn quickly and harness our enhanced abilities to accomplish great things just as quickly and completely.” “Well, General, I won’t argue with you there.” Peter said quietly, trying to convey the urgency of the message without arousing the suspicion of Klingon.

“I’m hopeful that we can accomplish all that you have promised and fairly quickly. The commander and I have discussed many of these aspects earlier. I’d like to think that my input in that regard helped convince him that if his ship needed repair, we could repair it. Otherwise, I never would have undertaken what I did in the first place. That brings me to why I interrupted your conversation. My brother and the others think that in order to carry out the inspection as quickly as possible, we are going to need the input from the alien crew directly responsible for the installation and/or maintenance of the stabilizer. While our technicians certainly understand the concept of a gyro as a stabilizing device, they really don’t know all of the details about their specific technology and application in their spaceships—in other words, how specifically their equipment is constructed and how it functions. “What I wanted to ask the commander is for the immediate use of those crew in helping our people more fully understand what they are looking for, so that we can expedite the inspection process. Otherwise, we could be here a long time—time that we really may not have.” General Paige looked incredulous. While this was a possibility that he and others had anticipated, he had not expected it to surface so quickly, nor had he expected the subject to be mentioned without coordinating with him first. After a moment, however, he nodded his head. “As you know,” the General said, “there was some consideration that their level of technology could be a barrier in getting a handle on the inspection and repair process, which is why we knew that we would possibly need the help of others from the industrialized countries if we are to have any chance of success. I did not think that the discrepancy between the two worlds would become so apparent so soon—certainly not so much so that our technicians would be immediately overwhelmed by it. I will discuss this with the commander.” “I would not worry about that, General,” Klingon responded, as if he had been a part of the hushed conversation all along. “While you perhaps did not give as much thought to the question about the technical disparity between our two civilizations as you should have, the problem was only too obvious to us. After all, we have been dealing with that issue for many thousands of your years, as we have come into with many other civilizations that did not possess, as yet, our level of development. We would be only too willing to assist you in carrying out this inspection. In fact, we have prepared a self-directed briefing on the damaged stabilizer, with your situation in mind, that will familiarize your

technicians with the pertinent details they will need. After that, my crew will assist you as necessary.” Klingon motioned to an alien crew member nearby. The crewmember pointed an object toward a wall adjacent to the stabilizer. Immediately, the briefing mentioned by Klingon commenced. What appeared on the wall was an exact 3-D duplication of the space in which they stood but included training mockups of various pieces of equipment, including the stabilizer. Every object in the area was portrayed in a lifelike format so strikingly clear that there was no difference in appearance between what was real to them in the space that they occupied and what was presented on the wall. By now, everyone was assembled in front of the wall. Without hesitation, the crew member that had started the briefing presentation moved toward the wall and suddenly appeared to enter the duplicate space—the alien seemed to appear in the 3-D simulation itself! “Did I really see what I think I just saw?” Paul whispered to those around him. “How is that possible, to create a space out of a solid object like that?” The shock and astonishment among the others in the human contingent over what had occurred was overwhelming. How could someone literally walk into a flat-screen simulation, 3-D image or not? The of the human inspection team slowly approached the wall, mesmerized, uncertain about how to react. What was expected of them? “Dare we ask about this without sounding absolutely stupid and Neanderthal?” asked Katrina Douglas. Her face was pale, and she looked possessed. General Paige, Peter, Paul, Karl Holzhauer, and Daryl Stark stood absolutely still, afraid to move. What was the real space now, and what was the simulation? Their minds, unable to make the connection, were thoroughly disoriented. Klingon and most of the alien crew appeared to have already entered the simulation area. Klingon turned around and motioned for the visitors to do the same. When they hesitated, he spoke. “In creating a viable simulation, the program has to create what you might call the mental illusion that you are actually operating in the real world. Of course, it is only occurring in your mind. The program has the ability to mentally draw you into the projected scenario as if real and to present to you what seems to be

the actual equipment, the personnel, and the activity that would take place in a real-life situation. I assure you that we are all still standing in the room occupied by the damaged stabilizer. At this stage, all you have to do is simply follow the training scenario laid out by the program and imagine yourself walking into the room that the rest of us appear to be in.” Slowly, as they approached the solid wall, they allowed themselves to imagine walking into the training space and ing the others. Mentally looking back from where they had come, they saw that that space was there but now appeared vacant. “I do not want to date myself,” said General Paige, as he still struggled with the mental and psychological aspects of fully getting into the simulation, “but this seems like a really scary episode of The Twilight Zone, don’t you think?” “Yes,” replied Daryl. “I just hope that I don’t have to sneeze. Heaven knows where I’d end up, trying to remain in the simulation. You know, I’ve heard it said that the instance of sneezing is close to dying. What happens when it all revolves around a mental illusion?” The others all glared at Daryl as if he had the plague. It took less time that they had at first imagined before they were wrapped up in the training program. Hidden areas of their brains were still coping with trying to remain true to reality, but overall the simulated training scenarios went well. The human technicians responsible for carrying out the actual inspection of the stabilizer worked harmoniously with the alien crew , due to the fact that the simulator program manager automatically compensated for language differences. After several hours, the training was completed to everyone’s satisfaction. As easy as it had been to walk into the training program at the beginning, at the end everyone found themselves once again standing in the real room, looking at the blank wall after the alien crew member that had started the training had shut it down. “Creepy—that’s all I can say about it,” said Katrina, as she and Dr. Holzhauer walked over to an unoccupied space in the room to compare notes on this most recent development. “Does this answer your earlier concern, Peter, about how we were going to address the vast difference in technology between the two civilizations?”

General Paige asked, as the remaining of the team huddled around. “Beyond my wildest dreams, General,” Peter replied, “as I imagine would be the general response from the rest of the group here. Who could have imagined that Klingon and his crew would have been as prepared as they were to handle what they must have known would be our deficiencies. In fact, Klingon said as much at the beginning of the training program. I’ll have to it, I’m beginning to wonder why Klingon agreed to all of this, if he knew—at this stage anyway— just how behind the power curve we would be.” “Well, you are not the first to wonder about that, I assure you,” the general quietly said. “We had best be skeptical about their motives and not just because of differences in levels of technology. There are a lot of unanswered questions here across the board. Time, hopefully, will bring more answers. Let’s see how prepared we will be in those situations as well. In the meantime, we have an inspection to finish and then future decisions to make.”

Chapter 15

Friday, June 18, through Sunday, June 20

O nce the training simulation was completed, the stabilizer inspection went quickly and was finished by late morning. The departure back to the base began shortly after, with General Paige’s group and the accompanying personnel moving quickly back to the vehicles and then to the waiting CH-46’s. Peter delayed just a bit to say another good-bye to Klingon. The tone of this second visit seemed to be positive, as far as Peter could determine, but with some reservation. Based on a mostly positive assessment of the likelihood of being able to effect a repair to the damaged stabilizer, General Paige, Peter, and Klingon established a schedule and tentative time frame for getting the work underway, beginning with relocating the alien spaceship to the remote site within two days. Fortunately, the ship could maneuver under its own power to the clandestine base, even with the stabilizing device inoperative. It would do so at night and with the cloaking device deployed. That part of the process could be accomplished rather quickly. And the facilities at the base, still operative after several decades of being mostly idle, were presumed to be more than adequate to accommodate the huge ship. The morning of June 18, however, found General Paige and the others back at the site, working feverishly to get that operation underway, as well as initiating the events that would have to accompany the start of what was bound to be an almost overreaching task. Now that the decision had been made to attempt it, ing all of the governmental and nongovernmental agencies, universities and research centers, and corporations around the world that could inevitably become involved in such a monstrous process—and doing it quickly and quietly —was a daunting undertaking. Just the slightest misstep, and the whole enterprise would be in jeopardy. By the end of the month, it would be necessary to have at least the initial cadre

of personnel firmly established at the site and working on expanding the scope and mind-numbing details of the operation. More and more, some of those involved were thinking this was akin to the Manhattan Project of World War II, which secretly developed the atomic bomb. That project also involved a very top-secret base in the desert and the around-the-clock efforts of thousands of very intelligent and driven people working on the very edge of technology and innovation. Here, they hoped, the results would prove a true boon to mankind, rather than a threat to mankind’s existence.

Peter almost felt normal again after spending too many days feeling like the proverbial stranger in a strange land. After leaving the spacecraft at the end of the inspection process, everyone had returned to the remote base. It was decided that those personnel in General Paige’s group should take a day or two to attend to any personal business, because from then on, it was going to be a constant race until the finish. Peter had just returned from his home in California with his companion and friend, Chance. Although one of Peter’s neighbors and close friends had lovingly taken care of the dog, Peter had worried about Chance the entire time. Peter also had had to take care of personal things, financial and otherwise, that had been left unattended for more than a week. Because he was so organized, he could not let personal matters simmer on the back burner for too long. Although he was grateful at the outcome of events, he was certainly not looking forward to the anticipated pace of things at this remote base in the northwest desert. Leaving and returning to the base had involved traveling at night on military transports under the tightest security arrangements, involving numerous identity checks and searches of personal items. Peter had to talk convincingly to General Paige to get permission to bring Chance back with him, for the base was only going to accommodate those personnel absolutely required to be there for the initial phase of the repair operation. When he returned, he was astounded at what had been accomplished in such a small time. The alien spaceship was parked on the tarmac in front of the largest hangar on the base. The portable lighting around it, which had to be covered with netting so it would not reflect into the night sky, revealed a swarm of technicians, including the aliens, working feverishly to prepare the ship to be moved into the hangar. From where Peter stood, it was going to be a tight fit, for the spaceship appeared to be almost as large as the hanger itself. Perhaps they would have to partially dismantle the alien craft, if that was possible. The base housing quarters generally were Spartan, at best. The rooms assigned to Peter and Chance were in a former single officers’ barracks that was more removed from the rest of the housing, creating a sense of complete privacy. Few other rooms were occupied. Years of isolation and neglect had left many of the buildings on base in general disrepair, inside and out. There were areas with no

electricity or water, and many of them had been the shelter for the various denizens of the desert over the years. Thankfully, this area of the region did not get much rain, for most of that would have seeped through roofs with shingles that had long ago dried out and mostly blown away by strong desert winds. Peter’s quarters—consisting of one bedroom, bath, kitchen with eating area, small living room, and outside patio—had been restored to a habitable condition, with electricity and running water, air conditioning, and kitchen appliances. Once he and Chance settled in, they both got some needed rest. Tomorrow would begin the next important phase, which Peter had been informed was dubbed “Operation Launch,” which was intended to represent the efforts to get the alien spacecraft repaired and launched back into space.

While Peter was resting on the base, Tubrang Gilf was gazing up at Earth’s night sky from the same location. Over the last two Earth days since the inspection, it had been engaged in its own feverish attempts at getting things under control while in the constant presence of the humans. Since they had visited the spaceship, and it now had been moved to this pathetic excuse for a modern installation, the AKAR commander had been reevaluating the nature of things, attempting to discern if his plan of stalling the humans until the primary ship of the exploratory fleet had arrived was the right choice and would work. Just before moving the spaceship’s location, the primary ship had initiated , not having heard from the missing ship and its crew for some time. With reestablished, and after learning about the failure of the stabilizer and the fact that the Council ship was now basically stranded on the planet’s surface, the captain of the primary ship had ordered the stranded ship’s commander to immediately depart the planet under reduced power and proceed to the Cryon way station, where the two ships could possibly rendezvous. Even at the reduced speed of the damaged vessel and given the tremendous distance, it was possible that the two ships might be able to eventually meet in time, because the primary ship would now proceed at near light speed toward the location. If not, then the commander was ordered to destroy its ship, once the crew had exhausted all of its supplies. However, after further revealing the additional failure of the environmental control system, plus the details of his agreement with the humans to participate in what would be an illusory effort to repair the damaged stabilizer in order to buy time for some of the exploratory fleet to arrive, the captain of the primary ship finally agreed with that plan. It would not make much difference and would keep the inhabitants of the planet occupied in the meantime. The AKAR, whose Council name would sound something like “Tubrang Gilf” to the human ear as it emerged from the translator, was ordered to maintain the illusion for the time being. The problem would emerge later—that being the revelation of the exact purpose of the exploration, if the planet turned out to be suitable for sustaining the life of their civilization, their New World. Tubrang Gilf now felt better about the overall situation, but it had to it that it

had reservations about the possible end result, if this planet did, in fact, turn out to be suitable for sustaining the lives of the Council’s endangered and the inhabitants of its distant solar system and planets. Many of those individuals were already en route to this general location on one of the first Colony ships. If this Earth were found suitable, then the Council would order that the planet be seized at any cost, which would entail the elimination of most of the planet’s human population. Some might be retained, if deemed appropriate, for there would be much work to do to make the planet comfortable for the new arrivals.

Generals Paige and Atkins were seated in the dark at a table in the Officers Club, which had seen a lot of activity when the base was critical during the Cold War years. Those had been exciting times, both agreed. The ongoing competition with the USSR had provided ample opportunity for both advancement and challenge. There were those development programs on which no limit on spending was possible. Whatever the military wanted, it got. Whatever new weapons system or spy programs someone dreamed about, it was only a matter of enough money and time. And there was always enough money, at least. What could be simpler than that? Now, the situation was vastly different. The enemy was not a country that was always over its head economically in trying to compete with the huge industry of the United States of America. The Soviets simply did not understand, until the end, that a heavily bureaucratic, government-managed, corrupt economy simply could not keep up with the economic drive of a heavily bureaucratic, profitdriven, corrupt capitalist system. No way! Now, the two generals sat in a building that screamed times gone by, and they tried to focus on this new threat. Their problem was simply trying to come up with the mental grasp of the situation. During the Cold War, this would have been thought of as simply science fiction stuff, something that kids wanted to see at the movies. This, however, was different. “Just where do we stand on this thing at the moment?” General Atkins asked. He had been busy coordinating the various details regarding the staffing and overall preparation of the base, knowing that most of this effort was just so much camouflage. “Nothing has really changed since the last briefing at 2100 hours,” General Paige responded. “President Hunter is fully briefed at this point, as is the vice president, the Speaker of the House, the secretaries of state and defense, the FBI, the CIA, and all of the various intelligence agencies. Of course, the rest of the t Chiefs are on top of things as well. All of the NATO, SEATO, and OAS countries have been brought up to speed. The secretary of state has kept Russia, China, Japan, Israel, and our Mid-East allies informed. We will call on them for active participation in what will quickly become a worldwide effort. We are as prepared for this ‘thing,’ as you referred to it, as we can be. Right now, it’s

basically a game of cat-and-mouse. Unfortunately, we’re the mouse at this stage.” “How is the president holding up?” General Atkins’s question contained a hidden meaning. President Anne Claire Hunter had been elected two years prior as the country’s first woman president, to generally rave reviews. Just as the election years earlier of Barack Hussein Obama as the nation’s forty-fourth and first biracial president had been lauded as a momentous event in the country’s history, so too was President Hunter’s election seen as setting yet another milestone—that of finally breaking through the political glass ceiling held far too long by primarily white, Anglo-Saxon males. So far, her istration had not been too seriously challenged by any unsettling occurrence, nationally or internationally. The concern for many as she was campaigning for the nation’s highest office was whether or not a woman president would be capable of handling events that posed a direct and immediate threat to national security, events that had taken such a toll on many previous presidents, particularly in the role of Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces. Despite the age of time and the demonstrated success of women in positions previously held by their male counterparts, many in the country, including many women, simply were not comfortable with a woman as president for that particular reason—an opinion secretly shared by the two generals having this quiet meeting. “So far, so good,” General Paige replied. “I have to give her a lot of credit for selecting the people that she did for her Cabinet positions, people like Patricia Thomas for national security advisor, and David Boyle to head up the State Department, not to mention Patrick McDuffy as secretary of defense.” “I do believe that you may have had some input on the McDuffy selection, if my memory serves me right,” General Atkins knowingly interjected. “A little,” General Paige acknowledged. “As a member of the t Chiefs, I had to make sure that the bases were covered in that area. The president assumed office without much knowledge or exposure whatsoever in those critical areas. If it hadn’t been for the briefings from Thomas, Boyle, McDuffy, and others during those debates, I don’t see how the president could have come across with much competence at all in those areas, although I have to it that she was a quick study. With the continued from her Cabinet and staff, she’ll do just fine.

President Hunter is certainly not the first president to have found out what exactly it means to be president only by occupying the office over time.” “Thank God for ‘Stingray’ in the meantime; that’s all I can say,” General Atkins said. “Without that, in this situation, we’d be up a fucking creek without the proverbial paddle.” “You’ve got that right,” General Paige acknowledged, nodding his head thoughtfully. They were referring to an ultra-secret program, fundamentally developed for the military, funded creatively, with significant implications for national security, as well as the nation’s space program and industry. Enough was on the plate some twenty years ago in of threats to the country from various sources of evil-doers, such as Iran and North Korea, plus planet-wide threats from outside the solar system from hard-to-track asteroids and meteors, that the applied combined pressure forced an answer that was eventually called “Stingray”—a network of geosynchronous military satellites capable of launching a variety of offensive and defensive measures. Driven also in part by a growing demand for the United States to get its space program back on track to recapture the glory days of a putting people on different orbs and actually reaching for the stars, Stingray included computer-guided laser cannons that could instantly focus on and destroy its targets, whether vast distances away in space or on Earth’s surface, with pinpoint accuracy. That name Stingray supposedly came from the silent creature of the ocean that quietly moves about the depths, a creature that can hide from sight underneath the sand one moment and then suddenly appear to attack with a quick and deadly sting of its tail. A consistent rumor suggested that maybe the program name came from a meticulously restored 1967 Corvette Stingray convertible, metallic blue in color, owned by the chairman of the House Appropriations Committee responsible for approving the colossal funding necessary. One of the many consequences of the continuing research, development, and testing was the advent of “Telescope”—an adjunct to Stingray—that was considered a requirement for the successful identification and tracking of the myriad moving intergalactic objects that threatened the very existence of life on the planet. The breakthrough with Telescope came with the development of a

self-optimizing algorithm that would provide the capacity to clearly see distant objects in space in great detail, regardless of the vast distances involved. Telescope, in conjunction with the enormous computer capacity available to the government of the United States, had the power to take distant images generated by satellites and space telescopes and synthetically enhance the detail, based on the information embedded in a vast data composite of probability criteria. A second, sorting algorithm had the capacity to discriminate between all of the variables involved in determining the identity of any object moving in space. Telescope would begin applying probability criteria to that object: Is it moving on a straight or curved trajectory? Is it tumbling or stable? Does it emit heat, or is it cold? Does it change heading or course over time? If so, how? Quickly or slowly? Is it truly acting like an asteroid or comet, or is something else taking place? Given the ongoing scientific interest in detecting the possibility of extraterrestrial life and possible with Earth, Telescope’s capacity could readily determine whether or not objects in space might be under the control of something other than the direct effects of gravity in space. Exactly four months prior to the landing of the alien spacecraft in the western desert of the United States, Telescope highlighted a moving object that it decided was very much under the control of something other than the simple effects of the gravitational pull of larger celestial objects in Earth’s galaxy. Further computer amplification of photographs and video taken by satellite telescopes showed, for the very first time, an alien spaceship approaching Earth’s solar system and indicated controlled changes in direction. Continued surveillance over the next few days showed that it, indeed, was heading toward the vicinity of Earth. Continued surveillance revealed the presence of additional craft at varying distances from Earth’s solar system, moving about the galaxy in random fashion, as if searching for something, with a second one indicating its approach toward Earth’s solar system as well. By the time that Peter Harrigan had his accidental with the alien crew from the nearest spacecraft a little more than a week ago, the government of the United States had compiled enough preliminary information to begin initial

preparation for whatever might ensue from any encounter, if what appeared to be alien spacecraft made any threatening maneuvers. This included the continued tracking of the objects by Telescope and focusing the enhanced capabilities of Stingray, which included both intense laser and “deep launching interceptor” offensive capabilities. Within the next first few days, as it became more apparent that something truly alarming was developing as additional alien ships were located at even greater distances out it space, all of the country’s national leaders were sworn to complete secrecy and briefed on whatever information was appropriate for their security clearance status. The same thing was done within a matter of a few hours with regard to the governments of the international allies of the United States. As the days ed with no change in trajectories and most particularly after the details of Peter Harrigan’s encounter had been revealed, more governments, such as China and Russia, had been brought into the fold. This had to be done with tact and diplomacy, so as not to reveal too much about the secret deployment and capabilities of both Stingray and Telescope, for that level of technology had to continue to be safely guarded from those who could very well be potential enemies down the road. “Actually,” General Atkins continued, “thank God for Peter Harrigan’s unlikely encounter with the spacecraft and crew. Without it, we would not be where we are at this moment; that is, with a credible scenario that now allows us to deal with this matter in a way that actually gives us some control over events. The spaceship and its crew are, for all intents and purposes, in our control, all within the context of a very believable repair program that buys us some time to find out more information and prepare accordingly.” “Yes!” General Paige replied, nodding his head emphatically. “I could not believe it when Paul Harrigan called me after talking to his brother and Daryl about the encounter. The knowledge of the failed stabilizer and the mention that Peter had actually proposed a repair program was an immediate door-opener. Otherwise, we probably would have initiated some sort of physical action at about that time, knowing that the craft was hiding in the remote desert but not knowing exactly what its intentions were. We could not have waited much longer without doing something in response.

“Too bad that we had to initially hide from Peter the full extent of our knowledge and suspicions about the alien spaceship landing and the approaching other ship. Too bad that we also had to withhold the knowledge of the additional alien ships approaching from farther away. It was difficult enough at the time to convince Paul, but he quickly grasped the significance of playing along with his brother’s plan in order to buy us time and get closer to the alien crew. Now, we are going to have to explain to the others as well why we did not reveal the full extent of what we have known for some time now.” “We really didn’t have much choice, Warren. Telling everyone more at that time might also have meant revealing the existence of Stingray and Telescope,” General Atkins added. General Paige slowly nodded in agreement. “Now we face the grim prospect of the possible approach of those additional alien ships,” he said, “no doubt directly related to our newfound friends’ recent arrival in our vicinity. Their presence approaching our solar system likely presents a new and potentially ominous situation to the planet. Both Telescope and Stingray are continuing to track their movements, as you know. The estimated arrival of some is still several months away, although one of the spacecraft appears to have greatly increased its speed, according to the latest intelligence, and could be here by early to mid-August. We really do not have much time to prepare, beyond having Stingray armed and ready to fire.” “Until that time,” General Atkins responded, “how much longer do you think we can seriously continue with this charade of trying to repair their stabilizer? According to what you reported, and no doubt what this Klingon noticed, was just how far behind the power curve we were in trying to accurately assess the type and extent of damage to it, which further emphasized the chasm that exists between their technological level and ours. It’s not that we haven’t made great strides over the last hundred years or so, but man has only been flying for a less than 150 years and venturing into space for less time than that. We’re babes in the woods, for God’s sake! The discrepancy between the two civilizations must be giving them pause when it comes to considering letting us try to repair their ship. I know it would me.” “You are preaching to the choir,” General Paige said. “It is going to be the proverbial eight-hundred–pound gorilla in the room for the time being. To

mention it would dramatically change the air in the room. Klingon is agreeing to the repair only to buy time for the other spaceships to catch up; we are proposing it, notwithstanding Peter’s game plan, only to buy time to consolidate our position and formulate a response. If the situation should suddenly deteriorate, heaven only knows what would happen. One thing is for certain: we need more information and quickly. Right now, we cannot convince our allies to move in a concerted manner, one way or the other, with such uncertainty, and time is crucial.”

Chapter 16

Monday morning, June 21

P eter could not believe it when he heard reveille blaring through the base housing compound. He leaped out of bed, accompanied by Chance’s barking, into the darkness and quickly looked out the bedroom window. Even though it was covered with the dirt and grime of too many lonely days and nights abandoned in the remote desert, he could still see numerous personnel in uniform scurrying about under the glaring lights in the distance. As he continued looking, they appeared to settle into close-order ranks, standing at attention. The same loud speaker that had blasted reveille now barked out the orders of the day and then dismissed everyone to the mess hall for breakfast, before they were to commence with the work of the day. Not knowing exactly what the morning entailed or where the other of General Paige’s group were, including his brother, Peter decided to walk Chance, accompany the others to the mess hall for a much-needed meal, and then look for General Paige’s office. Even though he was excited about the start of Operation Launch and was still amazed at what had been accomplished in such a short time, he had to it his uneasiness about the next few days and weeks. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it; it was just an uneasiness, perhaps based on how the stabilizer inspection had gone. Peter had remained behind at the spaceship momentarily with Klingon after the completion of the inspection, as General Paige and the rest of the personnel approached the vehicles for the ride to the helicopters. Peter could sense something different in Klingon’s demeanor then. The alien commander seemed to be suddenly remote, although whatever closeness might be with the aliens was hard to say. Still, when Peter finally said his farewell, Klingon walked directly back into the spaceship without any response. When Peter turned to look back, the hatch was already closing.

There clearly was a problem with how the inspection went from the beginning, despite the training scenario that the alien commander had ready to aid the humans. Even Paul and the others knew that the humans were not really prepared to assist without assistance from alien technicians. If they could readily see it, then what about the aliens? Everyone seemed to cooperate in a friendly manner after the training presentation, and the inspection apparently showed that the repair could be accomplished. Still, there was something about the moment that remained with Peter. He considered bringing it up at the morning meeting but then thought that he would wait to see how things progressed as the next few days unfolded. After all, Klingon was here at the base and could very well be at the next meeting. The interaction between General Paige and his group and Klingon and any alien crew who might attend would soon reveal if what Peter had imagined was just that—his imagination.

At that moment, Tubrang Gilf was walking on the tarmac, inspecting from a distance the hangar into which his spaceship would soon be moved, according to the repair schedule. The activity so early in the morning was hectic, with the humans moving quickly between the various buildings as they prepared themselves for the day ahead. By contrast, his crew were quietly going about their activities in the vicinity of the spaceship, checking whether or not the ship would fit into the derelict building without being damaged. The AKAR was thinking about speaking out against moving the ship in there under any circumstances, although at the moment, there was no human of authority to approach. It decided it would have to do something—and soon—when this General Paige human showed up and attempted to control the situation. That was another problem area that needed to be resolved, as they waited for word from the approaching ships. The ship needed to be ready to depart, assuming that the crew could resolve that additional problem with the ship’s atmosphere generation system in the meantime, without having to be moved from the hangar. To do that, the matter of just who was in command of this situation had to be addressed. Yes, the humans were trying, as best they could, to help repair the craft, but that did not mean that the ship’s commander and crew ceded any authority to these creatures. The commander had agreed to move the spaceship to this base as a part of the repair plan, in order to keep the humans occupied until the primary ship arrived. It did not fully anticipate the problem, however, of allowing it to be moved into this hangar. Once in there, particularly when it would be dismantled for the beginning of an actual repair, it would be impossible for it to be quickly reassembled for a timely departure when needed. The commander was going to have to find a diplomatic way to keep its ship intact and out of the hangar, if it was to be ready to depart this planet under a reduced power regimen for the possible rendezvous with the primary ship from the approaching exploratory fleet. It was imperative to continue to keep these humans occupied without raising the specter that something else was afoot.

As soon as Peter entered the sitting area of the Officers’ Mess Hall with a tray filled with every breakfast item available, he noticed the other of General Paige’s group chowing down over in the far corner. His brother caught his attention and waved him over to their table. As he approached, Daryl Stark started the morning off with his usual caustic comments. “Well, it’s about time, Private! The rest of us seasoned veterans have been up for hours doing the required morning 5-K run and special ranger calisthenics, while you could barely muster up enough energy to walk your dog, for God’s sake!” “Daryl, if you have ever in your life done a morning 5-K run, I will personally contribute a year’s salary to your favorite charity—which is you, no doubt! Hello, all of you, by the way.” One by one, Paul, Karl Holzhauer, and Katrina Douglas voiced their good mornings, although without much enthusiasm. It was great to see them again after the two-day break, just to catch up on the state of affairs before the morning meeting. “So who knows what’s happening?” Peter asked. “Where is the morning meeting to be held, and who’s going to be there? Are Klingon and any of his crew going to show up?” The rest of the people at the table, including Daryl, sat quietly, without an attempt at conversation. “What’s the matter?” Peter asked, with sudden concern in his voice. Had something disastrous occurred in his absence? “Paul, what’s going on?” “Peter, we really don’t know. We arrived back here not much earlier than you did last night. There was a lot of activity, mostly around the alien spaceship. I tried to make with both General Paige and General Atkins, as did Daryl, just to catch up on recent developments, but they either weren’t here or made sure that they would not be available. We all thought that it was a little unusual, given the circumstances. Right now, all we have is guesswork to go on. I take it you don’t know, either.” “Nothing at all,” Peter conceded. “Well, the iron is now in the fire,” Karl interjected. “Now is not the time to let up on the repair effort. It is important to keep the pace going, so that people can

maintain their level of activity and accomplishment. Once you start to relax, it is difficult to recapture the momentum, even after only a short period of time. As you know, I was against the two-day break in the first place. But having said that, I have to mention something that I was waiting to bring up at the morning meeting. I may as well mention it now, among my cohorts. I found out about it first thing this morning, Europe time. Whatever it is apparently has produced a sort of cool-down for the moment among just about every member country in the European Space Agency. It unfortunately has something to do with the continued commitment among the allied nations with this repair project on the alien spaceship. So far, my inquiries have unearthed only a few very hushed rumors, but the implication is that they refer to something that occurred that puts this whole thing in a very different perspective. “Now, this would not be happening unless it started with this country—the United States currently has the only technology to track this situation and to discover that there may be more to this than just an alien ship that had to make an emergency landing on planet Earth. At least, that is the general consensus that the ESA has of the state of US technology, while not being able to see through the very top-secret canvas they keep covering it. That means that if there is any truth to the rumors, then Generals Paige and Atkins are probably sitting on the full details as we speak.” “So no wonder we haven’t heard anything about a meeting,” Daryl said. “They’re trying to figure out just what to do now—now that the ball has been kicked off and the game has begun. But now that I think about it, what about you, Katrina, and you, Paul? Both of you work at NASA, for Christ’s sake! Don’t tell me that neither one of you has heard about what Karl just said.” Katrina and Paul glanced at one another and then quickly looked away. Katrina blinked first, before she cleared her throat, and then spoke up. “Of course Paul and I have heard the same thing, although this information is so new and sketchy that we haven’t heard much more than Karl has. The inside instructions are to not say a word until more details emerge. Like Karl, we were also going to mention it to General Paige whenever the next meeting takes place. We are all covered under the same security restrictions; if we cannot talk about whatever these new details are within our group, then what chance do we have to handle this situation, regardless of what the implications may be? Let’s not speculate too much, however, until we have more details.”

With that, all eyes turned to Peter, who was sitting quietly, slowly shaking his head. His demeanor had undergone a noticeable change during the last few minutes of listening to the interchange that only seemed to burst his bubble. He appeared to almost physically shrivel inward. Just about the time that things appeared to be finally coming together, this unforeseen discussion seemed to be an ominous indication—that someone or some group currently was sitting on developing secret information that might threaten everything from here on. How did this information come to light? Peter wondered. Apparently, not everyone is being briefed on this. Karl, Katrina, and Paul are at least somewhat in the loop, while Daryl and I are in the dark. If the secret was such that Katrina and Paul had been told not to talk about it, and if Generals Paige and Atkins were currently tied up dealing with the developing situation, then it must truly be ominous. “So, given what you all have been keeping close to the vest but are now willing to reveal, what happens next?” Peter asked. “Give it to me straight. Don’t think that you’re going to hurt my feeling. I’m a big boy.” Paul spoke up without hesitation. “Peter, if I knew the full story, I would certainly share it with you—with all of you. When you have someone like Katrina, who is high up in an organization like NASA, being kept from the full details and told not to mention what little she may know to anyone, then it has to be something critically important. In fact, Katrina took a real chance when she filled me in on what she knew was happening. “On top of that, Karl’s earlier ission about the same topic from the European point of view only indicates how wide the scope of this story goes. The three of us were sitting quietly here when you approached earlier. We were not saying anything, not even to Daryl, because we are at a loss as to what is happening and what to do. We can only wait for General Paige to summon us for a meeting, and the sooner the better.” “Well,” Peter replied, “I’ve suspected that something was amiss. I couldn’t put my finger on it earlier, but I noticed that Klingon seemed distant when we were outside the spaceship after the inspection. I still don’t know what it was, but I suspect that maybe the outcome of the inspection may have had something to do with it. And then there are comments made by General Paige several days ago. I can’t exactly what he said—something about the government’s

knowing about the landing before my encounter. I got the impression that it might have been while it actually occurred or even beforehand.” Katrina Douglas switched her glance from Peter to Paul as she said, “Not to reveal at this time the few things that I am aware of concerning this discussion— things that cannot be revealed because they remain sensitive and top secret—but would it really surprise you to learn that we may have the capability to know things of this nature?” Paul stared off into space, his head slowly nodding. “Well,” Daryl spoke up, “however the chips fall here, continued speculation is not going to do us any good, whatever predicament we may find ourselves in. We need to face whatever facts are out there, to clear the air. We all know how things get bogged down in Washington on a continuing basis whenever hesitation becomes the only game that people are willing to play—always waiting for someone else to make the fatal mistake of making the first move. I say that we seek out the general. We are, after all, a critical part of this process; otherwise, why would we have been asked to be here in the first place?” They all looked at each other. Without any vote, yea or nay, they rose as a group and walked toward the nearest exit from the mess hall.

General Paige was sitting in a first-floor room in the original base headquarters building. It once had been freshly painted, inside and out, with lawns and landscaping perfectly manicured and the interior packed with the typical military-style furniture and equipment for hundreds of the officers and enlisted ranks. Now, in the morning sun, the outside looked like a building abandoned for some time, and inside, most of the rooms were empty and bleak. Many rooms on the first floor of the building, however, were in the process of being cleaned and painted and would be furnished with desks, chairs, and other office equipment to accommodate a growing presence. The general sat by a window at the only desk that could be located that was large enough to accommodate a lamp, a laptop computer, several cell phones, and two large briefcases packed with a large volume of material, from satellite maps to encoded documents, all classified top secret. Two officers, one of them Lt. Colonel Sara Bradford, the general’s adjutant, sat on either side of the office door. Things were now moving quickly, and the general’s actions, as well as those of dozens of officers and enlisted alike, reflected that. The old saying that time flies when you’re having fun—and in reality, it does whether or not you’re having fun—presented a very real dilemma here. The reason for the maximum effort went beyond the buildup for the repair. The growing consensus among the captives in Washington, who were privy to the behind-the-scenes secrets, was that events would come to a head by midsummer, whether Earth was prepared or not. Noticing commotion outside the room, the lt. colonel got up, walked into the hallway, and then, after a few moments, approached the general’s desk. “Excuse me, sir, but Peter Harrigan and the others in your group are in the hallway wishing to speak to you. I told them that you are quite busy, but they insist that this is urgent.” “Now is not a good time, Colonel,” the general quickly replied. He hesitated a moment and then picked up the phone and dialed a number from the new listing of base numbers. He informed the listener of the reason for the call, hung up, and then turned to the colonel. “Give them my apologies. I will not be much longer.

They do need to be brought up-to-date on events. Escort them down to General Atkins for the time being. General Atkins can start; I’ll be down shortly.” “Yes, sir,” the lt. colonel responded as she walked into the hall. Peter had been happily surprised to see Lt. Colonel Bradford approach them a few minutes earlier. He had wondered why she hadn’t accompanied General Paige to the base initially and thought perhaps that her military position and duties kept her restricted to Washington. Now, he was hopeful that this adjutant would accompany the general wherever he went. He didn’t pursue the line of thought further, as he saw her again walking toward them. Peter had to it that she certainly seemed to be handling the pressure well. He also had to it that he found her even more attractive than in Washington. “Mr. Harrigan,” the lt. colonel said, “General Paige is quite busy at the moment and sends you his apology. The delay won’t last long, and then he can meet with all of you. In the meantime, General Atkins is available and perhaps can answer some of your questions. Please follow me.” The group fell into step behind the officer. It was almost a natural reaction for them to march in formation as they proceeded down the hallway, perhaps because they were on a military base. After a couple of twists and turns, they arrived at a door, where a very faded Enlisted Personnel Only sign was now a marker from a previous era. Lt. Colonel Bradford knocked lightly and then entered the office. “General Atkins, you have some visitors.” The general had a phone to his ear and was typing away on a laptop. The general said something quietly into the phone, finished typing, closed the laptop, and then looked up. He briskly motioned his visitors to some chairs that were grouped against the wall in front of his desk. As the others entered and maneuvered to the chairs facing the general’s desk, Peter turned to Lt. Colonel Bradford, who had stepped away from the door. “Thank you, Colonel,” he said pleasantly. “It’s nice to see you here, finally. You look like you’re holding up pretty well, with everything that is happening. How do you do it?”

The lt. colonel briefly glanced into the room and then turned to Peter. “Well, I’d like to think of it as a woman’s ability to multitask, but lately it’s all a matter of keeping one foot in front of another. Amazingly, I get things accomplished.” “Well, if you ever feel like you’d like to take a break, although heaven knows when you’ll find the time, let me know. Okay?” “I will do that, Mr. Harrigan,” she immediately responded, smiling. “Be patient. Now, you’d better get in there. The general is impatient today.” Peter settled into a chair as General Atkins began to speak. “Well, I guess I’m the stand-in until the boss becomes available. What can I do for you? Did you all get some rest over the last two days? It looks like you’re going to need it. We are all going to need it. Too bad that I didn’t get any—sleep, that is!” The arrivals reacted with a group moan at the double entendre. Peter, presumably the group leader by default, broke the ice. “General Atkins, thanks for your time. I guess we were expecting a meeting this morning. There is so much happening, including some rumors that need addressing, that we really feel the need to get together. Here it is, almost nine o’clock, and we are beginning to feel like strangers all of a sudden.” “Well, this is the busy season,” the general responded, with just a hint of irritation. “We have all of this activity occurring just to get ready for the main event, which is to put all of this preparation together as soon as possible for the spaceship’s repair. I know that you are all anxious to keep the momentum going. There are some exciting things to look forward to, I know, but we just have to be patient while final things come together. As to a meeting of this initial group, I would say that one should take place by early this afternoon, if not before.” “With all due respect, General Atkins,” Peter continued, “the reason that we are seeking this meeting is not because we’re so eager to get on with any repair, which would be great if that were the real truth of the matter, but because apparently there are some very powerful rumors circulating throughout the capitals of various countries involved, including Washington, that we feel should be addressed as quickly as possible. These rumors strongly suggest that these other countries, and perhaps the United States, are now hesitating when it comes to their involvement in the repair program. What’s that story all about? Is all of

this activity, which you say is in preparation for the big event, just a smoke screen?” General Atkins’s facial expression had remained fixed during Peter’s comments. He gave no indication one way or the other about what was said or even if he had heard. When Peter finished, however, the general became somewhat nervous, picking up and setting down stacks of paperwork, rearranging his eyeglasses, and glancing out the window. Then, he just sat there, quietly drumming his fingers on the desktop. Finally, he said, “General Paige informed me when he called that I should find out what it is that you want, to try to handle it myself, and to let you know there will be a meeting, maybe yet this morning but no guarantee. At this point, both General Paige and I are privy to certain events that we are not at liberty to divulge. We are not certain when and to what extent we will be able to bring you on board with a full disclosure, as the information to date is quite sensitive. “What I can say is this: all of the governments initially interested—that is, those few that have been secretly ed and kept up-to-date with the same information concerning the landing of the alien spacecraft and the possible need for a repair—expressed a sincere interest in being involved. Beyond the initial disbelief of the occurrence itself, all representatives viewed this event as a rare and exciting opportunity. However, as can be true with such initial reports, some of the facts and assumptions within those reports may later prove to have been overstated, misinterpreted, or proven wrong, due to an error in judgment or wishful thinking. That alone may cause some to rethink their original positions. Having said that, there is nothing definitive that changes the current game plan in any appreciable way. Do I make myself clear on that? If and when that time arrives, I assure you that you will be the first to know.” “General, have you ever thought of running for elective office?” Daryl asked. “Given your obvious talent for saying many things without having to say anything, you should consider it.” The question immediately changed the climate in the room from one of simple inquiry to one of confrontation, for General Atkins did not appear to take the question in good humor. He glowered at Daryl, as a general would react to any subordinate who acted in a disrespectful way. “Mr. Stark, I am being as straightforward with you as I can be. If you do not appreciate it, then I suggest a change in attitude for you. General Paige and I are doing whatever has to be

done to assure control of the situation. The understanding and cooperation of all of this group is essential for success.” “General Atkins, I am sure that Daryl intended no disrespect, either toward you or your position,” Karl Holzhauer interjected. “Keep in mind that we are all professionals in our own fields of endeavor. We were all asked to be involved because of what we are capable of contributing. Your position may be one of rank and authority within your organization, and the US military enjoys a large amount of deserved respect, but you and General Paige must realize that we are of no little authority or respect just because we are in your presence. Again, General Paige—and I assume with your concurrence—assembled this group for a purpose, and that purpose was to provide our expertise along the way. We cannot do that if we are kept in the dark. Keep in mind that we can always leave and return to our homes and families and to the jobs that we were doing before all of this occurred. And in any event, unattended rumors probably will be destructive to the ultimate goal.” The room fell into complete silence. It was apparent by the sudden, electrified feel of the atmosphere in the room that this was the expression of the entire group. The message was simple: either involve us in the full aspect of what we came to do, or we will decide to no longer be involved. General Atkins hesitated briefly and then picked up the phone on the desk and quickly dialed. All he said was, “These people are a determined group. You were right after all.” Less than a minute later, General Paige knocked and then entered the room. What was subsequently discussed changed everything.

Chapter 17

T ubrang Gilf had expected the humans in charge to show up before now. Their star was rising farther in the sky, and the day was heating up. It was anxious to broach the subject of keeping the spaceship in its place in front of the rather rundown building that they intended to use for the repair. It was still trying to think of a credible explanation that would keep it in place for a short period of time, hopefully long enough for the approaching primary exploration ship to be well within range and in for a rendezvous in space, somewhere near the edge of this solar system, after the repair on the atmosphere generation system was completed. It was imperative that the repair be done as soon as possible. The nearest Colony ship, still well beyond the Earth’s solar system, awaited a message from the primary ship to continue toward this planet, once the full analysis of this planet’s suitability was completed. To keep its spaceship operable longer in order to accomplish this crucial study, Tubrang Gilf was going to have to reveal a little more of what was taking place, but only enough to pique the curiosity of the human mind—without alarming it. Part of what had not been revealed was the main purpose for its ship to be in the vicinity of this planet—to conduct an in-depth analysis of the exact condition of the planet to its civilization, or at least that portion of those rescued so far from its threatened planet and now on their way in the Colony ships. The remainder of those still on the planet would have to wait until those exploration ships investigating other portions of the galaxy reported back on the discovery of other suitable planetary bodies. There was not much time left before the unthinkable would happen—the absolute destruction of its hereditary planet, the home of the AKARs and those Thorks that provided the necessary daily of the AKAR civilization. The distant planet that the Thorks inhabited most likely would be destroyed as well, along with the rest of that civilization. What a shocking realization—one that Tubrang Gilf still could not accept. At least most of its own civilization would find rescue. The Thorks would not be so lucky, however. Not capable of

developing the higher technologies to help themselves over time but able only to serve others, they would simply perish. At least those who were of this ship’s crew and others in the fleet, would survive. So far, those Thorks seemed to have become accepting of the fate of those left behind. As it was starting to walk back toward the spaceship and its crew at work, Tubrang Gilf noticed the humans finally approaching. Leading was the one called General Paige. Following were the others who had participated in what the humans had laughingly called a damage inspection to determine the status of the ship and the possibility of a repair. There was no doubt in the alien’s mind that such a repair was necessary, only that the humans were incapable of performing to that standard within a reasonable time frame. “Commander,” General Paige said in a welcoming voice as he approached, noticing the continuing activity of the alien crew around the ship. “I apologize for this morning’s delay. We are now ready to start moving your ship into the hangar. However, I notice your crew actively moving about it. Are they engaged in a maintenance routine that cannot be done inside? We can have your ship inside and ready for disassembling for the repair within the hour.” “General Paige,” Klingon replied. “No need to apologize for any delay. To answer your question, my crew indeed have been conducting some additional inspections and tests on the ship. When we repositioned it from our landing site to this base, we detected some other areas of concern with its operational readiness. Before we can move it into the hangar, we will need to complete these inspections to assure ourselves that the ship did not undergo additional damage as a result of the stabilizer failure. Again, this type of failure or any failure of this scope is something that has never happened in the vast history of our intergalactic explorations. Once we effected a landing on your planet, the assumption was made that the only restriction to the ship’s operation would be directly related to the stabilizer’s being inoperative. However, when we repositioned the ship to this location, we noticed that we could not properly maintain directional control, even at greatly reduced speed. We will need additional time to thoroughly inspect and flight-test the ship before it can be readied for repair. Otherwise, we may very well complete the obvious repair to the ship, only to discover that there is something perhaps just as critical that needs to be addressed. Better to get all of this revealed beforehand, so that any and all repairs can be planned and accomplished concurrently.”

An uncomfortable silence immediately followed its explanation. From the standpoint of General Paige, this was not a problem in and of itself. He and General Atkins were stonewalling to begin with, under orders from the president to buy some time to figure out the full implication of recent events. What was known to date did not bode well. According to Telescope, the other spaceships were still proceeding toward Earth’s solar system without deviation, with the nearest one still forecast to arrive within the month. Now, the general was worried about the significance of Klingon’s latest revelation. Was it really confronted with yet another mechanical problem with its ship, or was this merely another attempt to buy more time in order to facilitate implementing a broader plan? “Commander, I’m sorry to hear about this,” the general responded. “How long do you think it will take your crew to complete their inspections and then for you to conduct the flight tests? I suppose that we can afford a few days’ delay, if it comes down to that.” “General,” Klingon answered, “I do not anticipate that it will take much longer than that. We should complete the inspections today or early tomorrow. The flight testing, however, could take several days. It all depends on what my crew find. Some problems require more rigorous flight tests to resolve than others, as I am sure you realize with your own flying machines.” “Yes, that is certainly true. All I ask is that you keep me fully informed, including a full schedule of flight testing. We have to make sure that we keep all of this under wraps. We absolutely do not what any of this to get out into the public domain in any way. That could prove disastrous.” “I understand completely, General Paige,” Klingon quietly replied.

Walking back with General Paige and the others from the late-morning meeting on the tarmac with Klingon, Peter felt the concern that showed on the general’s face. In the somewhat brief meeting that commenced when General Paige walked into General Atkins’s office, the group was filled in on mostly everything that the two generals knew and were confronting. Several areas still could not be revealed, mostly involving the most secret aspects of Stingray and Telescope, but Peter and the rest of his fellow group were informed about the most telling parts of the ongoing scenario; namely, those involving the additional alien spacecraft nearing the planet and the likely consequences that could follow. The subject of the repair came up, with the consensus being that any repair was pretty much off the table. They all concurred that given the evidence of the approaching alien ships, Klingon had only agreed to a repair because the commander had no other choice at the time. While Peter had inadvertently stumbled upon the alien crew and ship, it was generally agreed that Klingon probably suspected that its ship had been detected at some earlier point, and it was only a matter of time before a force showed up in response to the alien presence. Peter’s suggestion of a repair allowed the ship’s crew an opportunity to remain in place in a relatively safe, short-term scenario—that of the humans actually trying to provide an opportunity for the ship and its crew to go home. All the while, it was only providing the commander time to prepare for the arrival of the other alien ships. But what else was the alien ship supposed to be doing while it waited for the rest of those ships to arrive? The answer that the group came up with was exploration and analysis—finding the best spot or spots for the landing of those ships. The next question: why would they do this to begin with? What did they hope to accomplish? From all outward appearance, the aliens that Peter encountered seemed to be peaceful, with no indication of any intent to do harm. Yet here were these additional ships bearing down on the planet, without Klingon’s mentioning their approach. As had been suggested, perhaps the ship’s commander had latched on to Peter’s strong suggestion of a repair to its ship, because it deferred the possibility of a forceful encounter, which the lone spaceship might not have able to defend against, by keeping the humans otherwise occupied. That raised the question of just how capable the aliens might be in of that

forceful encounter. Peter could not seeing any evidence of armaments while touring the spaceship, which led him to conclude that the aliens were a strictly peaceful civilization. He also had not noticed if they had been carrying any weapons when they suddenly appeared in the desert in search of their lost crew member. He would have to to ask the others if they could seeing anything even remotely associated with a military-type capability during the recent inspection. In Peter’s mind, the first order of business was to make certain that the alien craft sitting on the tarmac outside was moved into the hangar space today, under the guise of beginning the repair process. That would ensure that whatever its mission, it would not be able to carry it out for the time being, and whatever armaments it carried could not be put to use. In light of that threat, he could not understand why General Paige had not been more insistent that the alien craft be moved earlier. Did he know something about the approaching alien craft and the preparedness of the United States and its allies? Was that why he did not view this ship and its crew as an imminent threat under the current conditions? As Peter was entering the old istration building on his way to the group’s office spaces on the second floor, he decided to ask Lt. Colonel Bradford, the general’s adjutant, if the general might be available for a quick question. Suddenly, his smart-phone rang, which surprised him, for he assumed that cell phone reception would be nonexistent in such a remote location. Beyond that, Peter wondered who it might be. With a few exceptions, the only people who knew where he was at the moment were already here, and they would be able to talk to him personally throughout the day. He glanced at the readout and saw “Washington Daily Herald” on the screen. He hesitated before answering but did so out of curiosity. “Peter Harrigan?” the voice on the other end inquired. “Yes. Who is this?” “Charley Whitmore, Peter. How have you been, Slugger?” Peter hadn’t heard that nickname in decades, not since his days of playing high school baseball. He hesitated before answering the question, because he was trying desperately to place the name Charley Whitmore. Suddenly the connection clicked. “Is this Charley Whitmore from the Anaheim High School

days in California?” “Yes, sir! How have you been, for Christ’s sake? It sure as hell has been a long time, that’s for sure. Hit any grand-slam home runs lately, Slugger Harrigan?” “What in the world are you up to these day? Why the call, Charley, and how did you get my phone number?” Peter asked, taken completely off guard. “Well, I have my sources,” Charley quickly answered, “and I was talking to one of them just the other day. That source happened to mention your name, along with the names of some others, regarding a potentially big story that is about to break wide open, if there is any truth to it, which my source insists there is. When the source brought up your name as one of those involved, I was as surprised as you just were. Later, I did some inquiries of my own to see if it could be the same Peter Harrigan that I knew way back when in California. Those subsequent inquiries showed that it was, much to my pleasant surprise! So here I am, talking to you and wanting to know more about the story, straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.” “Charley, it’s great to hear from you again. To be truthful, I haven’t the foggiest idea what the hell you’re talking about. And what are you doing, calling me about this story anyway? Are you a reporter?” “Peter, I’ve been on the staff of the Washington Daily Herald for the last twentytwo years, but who’s counting. Yes, I’m a newspaper reporter for one of the country’s great daily tabloids, covering the behind-the-scenes activities of this madly insane nation’s capital, but do not hold that against me. If not for me and my way of revealing the goings-on in this city that probably should never be revealed, even under the threat of extreme pain and anguish, heaven knows the level of corruption and inhumanity to man that would exist today. I am actually a public servant in that regard.” “Okay, so you’re a tabloid journalist. I guess someone has to be, really. But how did you end up in Washington, DC, for God’s sake. As I it, your family moved to the Midwest at the end of our junior year.” “Yes, that’s right. My father got the job offer in Ann Arbor, Michigan, which pretty much guaranteed a comfortable retirement. In fact, my parents are down in Florida these days, living along the Gulf Coast. After attending the University of Michigan, majoring in journalism and then working for a series of newspapers

along the way, starting out in Buffalo, I miraculously ended up here, where the annual spring cherry blossoms provide proof that love and beauty can indeed exist, even in perdition.” “I still don’t know why you’re calling me, Charley,” Peter insisted. “Again, what’s this story you mentioned that is about to break?” “Well, if what I’m hearing is true—and part of me wants to believe that it is not —we are about to be invaded by creatures from outer space within the next few months. My source—who is unimpeachable, by the way—has the position in Washington and the highly placed s at the Pentagon and elsewhere to know what is happening. My source tells me that an alien spaceship has already landed in this country and has been seized by the US government and is being held, along with its crew, in a top-secret base in the desert. At the same time, the government has evidence that additional alien spaceships are approaching this solar system, apparently headed for Earth, with the intent of invading this planet. “My source further insists there is unmistakable proof that the government has the top-secret ability to detect and identify these objects from remarkable distances and has been tracking them now for many months. My source has also revealed that you, Peter, have been on the alien ship and have talked to the ship’s captain and that you have been continuously involved in this story almost from the very beginning, in cooperation with various government agencies. To answer your question, I am calling to my source’s statements and to get your reaction to what I just mentioned.” Peter was at near-panic mode. All along, the question of the story breaking had always been on the back burner. Now, here it was, front and center, and the timing could not have been worse—not that there would be a good time for the story to go public, particularly with the threat, as Charley Whitmore alluded, of a possible imminent invasion. This was not something that Peter could handle by himself, even if he wanted to. Now, he had another and perhaps even more pressing reason for talking with General Paige immediately. This could make things increasingly uncomfortable for everyone, once the press got hold of it. “Well, Charley, I don’t know if you were hoping to catch me off guard by calling me out of the blue like this, but honestly, I don’t have a comment, because I really do not know what you’re talking about. This source of yours sounds like some sort of screen writer from Hollywood, trying to peddle a script for a new

Star Wars-type movie to some investors. The whole things sounds preposterous, even pathetic. Do you really believe that such a thing could be possible—an alien spacecraft being held hostage in a remote area of the desert by some secret agency of the government? My God, didn’t they try to get the public to buy into that way back in the days of the infamous Roswell crash in the late 1940s?” “Okay, I will grant you that Roswell is probably more hoax than reality, but what about all of the increased radio activity coming from a spot in the northwest desert of the country, somewhere in the vicinity of Colorado and Wyoming. My source tells me that there should be nothing out there but scorpions, rattlesnakes, and cactus. And what if my source, who not only has connections but also access to various security-related measures, decides to track the location at your end of this conversation. Might my source discover that you were standing, as we spoke, amid those very same scorpions, rattlesnakes, and cactus? I appreciate your time, Peter. Sorry to inconvenience a busy man. I think that I have all that I need for the moment, but I will be in touch!”

Chapter 18

Tuesday morning, June 22

E veryone was in the room who had been directed to be there, some seated close to the cameras and microphones, others standing in the background. There had been some idle chatter up until a few moments ago and then things went decidedly quiet. “Everyone ready?” came the voice over the speaker system that had been hurriedly installed in the one room in the headquarters building large enough to accommodate all of the equipment and personnel involved. General Paige and his group were sitting at a large folding table, with others seated or standing wherever they could find the space. Several large, flat-screen TVs suddenly came on, showing a much larger group of people sitting at a long conference table in a windowless room, with a well-dressed woman sitting in a high-back chair at the head of the table, directly facing the camera. The room was the secure command bunker located several floors beneath the White House. It had been the location over the years for many a dramatic moment in the country’s history, including during the attack on the Trade Center towers on 9/11 and the time, a decade later, when Navy SEALs stormed a compound in Pakistan during the night to take out the person most responsible for that attack, Osama Bin Laden. “One, two, three. Okay, Madam President, you may begin.” “Hello, General Paige, can you hear and see me all right?” “Yes, of course, Madam President,” the general replied. “Despite things coming together very quickly and being in a remote location, everything is set up, and we can see all of you and hear you clearly, thanks to satellite technology. We are ready to proceed whenever you are, Madam President.”

“Thank you, General. I appreciate your efforts to get things arranged for this important meeting on such short notice. I know how very busy you have been in the past few days, given the extraordinary set of circumstances this country and the world now faces. I must say that I, personally, find all of this somewhat hard to believe, despite the range of evidence to the contrary. What I find strangest of all, however, is how all of this is now threatened with imminent media disclosure. In the past few hours since you first informed the White House, I have talked to the directors of all of the security and intelligence-gathering agencies here in Washington. Along with the secretary of defense, Patrick McDuffy, seated here beside me, no one can fathom who this information source can be who has been talking to Peter Harrigan’s friend, Charley Whitmore, providing him with the general details of the story. “Clearly, if this leaks out to the public at large, it could lead to a worldwide panic that would be nearly impossible to control. And it appears that we do not have much time in which to come up with a plausible reaction to this imminent arrival of the additional spaceships that Telescope indicates are continuing to approach our solar system, let alone have time to deal with this new home-based threat. What are your thoughts on this, General?” “Personally, Madam President, I am just as alarmed as you are by the fact that Peter was ed out of the blue by this journalist. Your concerns are valid about the probable worldwide reaction if the full details of the story come out in the press. According to Peter, Charley Whitmore’s source apparently is highly placed enough in Washington to not only have access to the relevant information on the current situation but to have connections to various security-related resources as well, enough so that he or she can continue to mine for additional Ultra-Top Secret data, such as our position and purpose. I would have to say that the first order of business has to be to discreetly the Washington Daily Herald and put a stop to any further activity by Mr. Whitmore to gain information from his source. We have to emphasize the national security aspects of revealing any details of this country’s technical capabilities in space. We not only have to protect Telescope, which gives the United States the capability of seeing across vast reaches of the universe in almost microscopic detail, but also Stingray, which has the capacity of directing its lethal laser power into space and down to the planet. That technology must be guarded at any cost. “On top of that, we have to completely debunk the rumor about any creatures from outer space coming to invade our planet. While it appears this is a

possibility, we cannot afford to have this story get away from us. If we are to deflect any more of Charley Whitmore’s insinuations, we must be able to do so in complete secrecy, without having to contend with a public going completely berserk at the same time. Finally, and perhaps most important, we have to locate and shut down Whitmore’s source. If this source is as deeply entrenched in the Washington apparatus as Whitmore hints, he or she could do irreparable harm to this country for decades to come, perhaps longer.” “I completely agree with you, General,” the president replied. “Now, I want to get the secretary of defense’s input on the record. Mr. Secretary?” “Thank you, Madam President,” Secretary McDuffy began. “I, too, am in agreement with what General Paige said. I want to emphasize that our allies in NATO and SEATO, as well as those who have maintained a close relationship with this country outside of any alliance, such as Israel, have been kept apprised of most of what has occurred, short of revealing any details of the technological background information discussed here. Obviously, our friends will come to their own conclusions about what level of technology is necessary for this country to know the things that it does. That is understandable; I leave it to them to put two and two together in that regard. This brings up the general’s comment on protecting that technology from being conveniently sold at the highest price to both our friends and enemies alike. However, it is only a matter of time before they have it, either through deception or by developing it. Or it may be likely that we will have to share it with our allies for our own short-term benefit, such as defending this planet from an alien incursion. But for now, we must protect our secrets. “The only thing that I have to add, after having talked with General Paige and the other t Chiefs, is that this country and its allies must be brought to a level of readiness, short of alarming the public, as quickly as possible. As yet, we do not have any indication of the aliens’ military-style capabilities, but I think that we must assume that they would be quite prodigious, given their ability to travel the vast distances of deep space over what appears to be a extensive expanse of time. Again, this buildup will have to be done quietly and with extreme caution, so as not to create even more notice than has apparently already occurred.” “Thank you, Secretary McDuffy. Secretary Boyle? Anything to add?” “Yes, Madam President,” Secretary of State David Boyle replied. “I want to say

that at the time when the secretary of defense was briefing our allies on the military aspects of what is occurring, my office was conducting much the same kind of talks with our allies at the diplomatic level. With civilian control of the military being an integral aspect of our democracy, for the military to be prepared for whatever action is to take place, government agencies have to brought on board as the source of funding, if nothing else. It is sometimes easier to prepare the military for action psychologically than it is the government bureaucrats. Given what we were able to reveal to those who can operate on a strictly confidential basis, there has been no discernible resistance to what will be a call to arms, if it should come to that. “We may face a problem, and I imagine it may very well occur at the military level as well, as to who will be in charge. Who is going to call the shots and who will be responsible for the outcomes? From the diplomatic level, there is much to be gained or lost, particularly at the uppermost levels, based on what may or may not happen. No one wants to hitch their horse to someone else’s wagon without some guarantee on where the ride will end, what will be the cost, and who will above criticism for breakdowns made along the way. “Again, the military can feel more at ease with, can more readily relate to, a well-conceived, disciplined battle plan with achievable objectives, than the lessdisciplined bureaucracy can come to grips with any resolute, directed political agenda. There is always another election coming up to be won or lost, simply by making one right or wrong vote on a measure before the governing body. In other words, we may find the military side of the equation more willing and able to march in lock-step into the fray than the bureaucratic side.” “Not much new there, Mr. Secretary,” the president acknowledged. “We all know and fully understand the nature of politics, at its best and worst. Aside from that … Patricia, I think you have something to say.” “Yes, I do,” Patricia Thomas, the president’s national security advisor, replied. “With regard to the issue of media attention and the story breaking, it is going to happen eventually, and it probably will break sooner rather than later. It is one thing to say that we have to get a handle on it; it is quite another to really control a story with the scope and implications of this one. Mr. Harrigan’s friend, Charley Whitmore, is a journalist. If he is a good one, then he will continue to pursue this story, even if his newspaper tells him not to. I think that it would be a mistake to assume otherwise. Whether from this current source or another,

whether from this journalist or another, we can do only so much to keep the lid tightly screwed on. “In other words, I strongly believe that we have to aggressively prepare for the eventual release of at least most of the information, including some of the classified information. Eventually, a part of the revelation will include the name of Charley Whitmore’s source and the media frenzy surrounding that aspect of the situation, including how someone could have access to that much classified information and why someone wasn’t aware of it ahead of time. You all know! You’ve been around this town long enough! We could be in a lot more trouble on this, despite our attempts to keep a lid on it, if we drop the ball and then it explodes in our faces, leaving egg everywhere. Don’t you think that we should try to meet it head-on now and diffuse as much as we can as soon as we can?” Sitting at the head of the table in the White House bunker, the president quietly looked around the room, hoping that someone would attempt to tell her national security advisor that she was worrying about something unnecessarily. But no one moved or spoke out. When someone did, the voice came through the speakers in the room. “Madam President, this is Peter Harrigan speaking. I can’t help thinking that I am somehow responsible for this situation, even though I had no idea that Charley Whitmore was even alive until he called me about the rumors going around. I agree with your national security advisor. This is one of those situations where you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. I think that she pretty much hit the nail on the head. If it’s not Charley, then it will inevitably —and shortly—be someone else. As yet, we don’t know what is compelling the source to release what he or she has so far. And how did Charley Whitmore become involved? It could have little to do with the nature of the story itself but rather for more personal reasons. “If this source knows so much and is not operating on some sort of sinister level, then why would it be so willing to release such damaging information in the face of a looming threat of an alien encounter, particularly if the source has information regarding our technology that could be used to repel the aliens. Why would anyone be motivated to knowingly endanger themselves, their family, friends, and country in a way that could very well bring about a total catastrophe? In other words, I need to find out the long- and short-term agendas of both Charley Whitmore—who, by the way, is not my friend—and what he

knows about the source—what he thinks is motivating this individual. It may not lead anywhere, but I think that it is worth a try.” “Well, Mr. Harrigan, I appreciate your input,” the president cautiously said. “I do not think that you have to trouble yourself worrying about anyone blaming you for the antics of Charley Whitmore or whoever this source might be. I believe that you knew nothing about either Mr. Whitmore or the source until you were ed yesterday morning.” “Madam President?” “Yes, Patricia,” the president replied, looking up from her place at the table. “Madam President, I think that Mr. Harrigan may have the best idea so far, when it comes to possibly getting a handle on the media problem. According to what Mr. Harrigan related in his earlier statement to General Paige, Mr. Whitmore did not seem to push Peter for additional information when he was given a runaround answer in reply to his initial inquiry. At that stage, one would expect any journalist to keep the questioning going, to try to back the person into a corner, to get the individual to make contradictory statements and break down his or her resistance. But Whitmore did none of that. He simply said that he had what he needed and said that he would get back to Peter.” “So, what are you driving at, Patricia?” the president asked, eager to know. “I think that maybe if Mr. Harrigan were to call Mr. Whitmore, just to find out why he really called about that ridiculous story, he might get Mr. Whitmore to relate some details on what he was trying to accomplish and why. In other words, make Peter the journalist and Charley the subject being interviewed, without Mr. Whitmore being the wiser. Mr. Harrigan’s recording the interview would not matter, legally, since we would not use the recording in a court of law. We could, however, use the tape recording to analyze the value of what was said and how it was said, in order to judge the veracity of the statements. We also might get a better idea of just how far Mr. Whitmore is involved in this and just how involved the source is in wanting to break the story. Again, Whitmore had the chance to continue to pump Peter for more information but backed off. Maybe he is hesitant to get too involved in national security issues and the visiting FBI in the office, although I find that hard to believe about any good journalist. Or maybe he is hesitant about the source—maybe doesn’t trust him

and just wants to take it slow until he is sure. That probably means that Mr. Whitmore is fishing around for more reliable sources as we speak, which can be like trying to find the needle in the haystack, when you’re confronted with individuals entrenched in deep security, who do not want to be arrested for treasonous behavior and hauled off to the dungeon.” “Madam President!” “Yes, General?” This time the president was a little more amenable to the direction this was going. “Your national security advisor and Peter Harrigan have come up with a capital idea, if I do say so myself. Right now, we have nothing to go on when it comes to catching this source. Mr. Whitmore may not even truly know who the source is—this could be another ‘Deep Throat’ thing, with the information flowing very slowly, very tenuously from the source because of the extreme need for individual security and safety. We need to know that at least, for it would likely mean that the source is perched somewhere at the top of the security food chain, somewhere within the military or the national security system, and not just someone who only gets bits and pieces of information from time to time. “I think that Peter should Mr. Whitmore, just as described and as soon as possible, with the ultimate purpose of trying to find out why he called but with the guise of a get-together after all these years, just to catch up on old times. I do not know if good ol’ Charley is going to be suspicious that Peter might be wearing a wire, but we will just have to take that chance. We will have to ship Peter back to Washington tonight,” the general concluded, “so that he can be in place to his good friend Charley Whitmore tomorrow, in town, as if he has been there all the time, which hopefully will defuse somewhat the idea that Peter was somewhere in a remote part of the northwest desert.” “All right,” the president said. “Let’s do this! And send me Mr. Peter Harrigan when he is done.” “Yes, Madam President. I will keep you apprised of Peter’s meeting with Charley Whitmore when scheduled, hopefully within the next day or two, and then we can arrange an Oval Office meeting shortly thereafter.” “Very well, General. This meeting is adjourned.”

With that, the connection with the bunker was broken, and the room in the base’s headquarters building was silent. As the personnel assembled began leaving, Lt. Colonel Bradford entered and made her way against the crowd toward General Paige. “General Paige! General!,” the lt. colonel shouted to get his attention in the midst of the commotion of the exodus. “Yes, Colonel Bradford, over here!” “General, General Atkins just received this moments ago and wanted you to be made aware of it immediately. He is on his way to the hangar at this time.” General Paige took the paper from Lt. Colonel Bradford and quickly scanned it. Within seconds, his heart was pounding, just as it had over the years whenever he was confronted with an emergency, whether on or off the battlefield. “What is it, General?” Peter asked, suspecting that it was not going to be a reply containing good news. “This is the alien commander’s schedule that I asked for, detailing the extent of the additional inspections that its crew was conducting on the ship and the flight testing that would be necessary to assure that the ship was ready for the major repair.” “So, what does the schedule say? When will the ship be ready for the hangar?” “Well, that is the problem at the moment, Peter,” the general replied. “According to General Atkins, the alien ship just took off, apparently without notifying anyone in the vicinity. The alien crew was supposedly working on the ship one minute, and then suddenly they were boarding it, and within a few seconds, the ship took off. Based on the on-site comments, when the ship was just a few hundred feet off the ground and climbing, it simply disappeared. Apparently, the commander activated the cloaking device as it sped away.” “Holy shit!” Peter spoke out of character. “What do we do now? With the cloaking device engaged, we won’t be able to track it at all, will we? Unless Stingray or some other piece of ultra-secret technology hovering around can do it. They could be anywhere above the planet by this time. Hell, they could even be trying to and rendezvous with that other alien ship that is supposedly

in the vicinity.” “Calm down,” the general quietly replied as he looked around the room at the few people remaining, to get a handle on who might be trying to listen in. The only ones close by were the other of his group, who he quickly waved over to the table. “Colonel, did General Atkins say anything else when he handed this to you?” the general quietly asked, holding up the paper. “Well, he did use exactly the same expletive that Mr. Harrigan used a few moments ago when you told him,” she said, glancing Peter’s way. “Other than that, no. He just hurried out the door as he told me to get to you quickly.” “Thank you, Colonel. That will be all for the moment.” “Yes, sir.” With that, the lt. colonel left the room, but not before looking at Peter again, with just a hint of a smile on her face this time. Peter had no way of interpreting the nature of that smile. He only knew that he certainly didn’t mind it—at all!

At that moment, Tubrang Gilf was standing in the ship’s “situation room,” similar in scope to what an iral would have available when in command of the ships of a US Navy task force, only strikingly more advanced. From that vantage point, it could not only monitor all of the online systems but also the ongoing activities of all of the ship’s crew , as well as any activity outside its spaceship for vast distances in all directions. In space, the ship’s orientation/navigation system could provide the commander with a close-up, real-time view of the reaches of the galaxy within a three lightyear radius, simply by directing its view to the various areas of interest depicted on the multidimensional panorama suspended in front of it. It could already see the closest Council ship, the primary exploration ship, as a pinpoint of light, with increasing preliminary data displayed on the following exploration ships. The first of the Colony vessels were not yet close enough to be picked up by the ship’s surveillance systems. Now, however, its interest and attention were directed onto the blue-water sphere that its inhabitants called Earth. The AKAR commander knew that it was taking a chance when it ordered the unannounced, cloaked departure of the ship under the guise of a test flight, without coordinating it first with the human in charge at the base facility. But with the repair of the environmental control system finally completed, there would never be a more promising time. By now, they certainly would be wondering if and when the alien ship would return. The commander was still intent on continuing with the necessary delay tactics, but it needed to carry out the critical surveillance of the planet before the arrival of the rest of the Colony, and this was the only way and only time to do it. It would just have to repeat to the human leader at the base the necessity of continuing the inspections and test flights when the spaceship returned to the remote base, in the hope that the humans would accept the explanation. The commander, however, was already suspicious that they were in the process of figuring out that something was amiss but perhaps without knowing what and why. If the of his Colony en route to this area were to survive this massive relocation from their doomed planet, it was necessary to locate another world that would physically be able to accommodate the very large numbers and be in

a phase of its life cycle that would enable its people to survive there for eons of time. In other words, the planet would have to be a healthy one, not one approaching or already in a cycle of decline. Right now, that was the commander’s mission—to critically assess, in minute detail, the status of this world, taking into consideration all of the planet’s interactive history from the beginning to the present. That was the mission that it was on previously, when the ship experienced the loss of the stabilizer. Very important, certainly, were the impact of the origins and evolution of the myriad life-forms that presented themselves throughout that time, particularly the human life-forms. There was no doubt that the introduction of that species led to a considerable reduction of the planet’s vitality over the span of time that the Council had been surveying it. Most recently, there was a suspicion, based on accumulating data, that Earth had become less and less capable of throwing off the heat from the buildup of its rising surface temperatures. Should that continue, the planet could be thrown into unpredictable cycles of severe climate change, altering between extremely hot and cold weather patterns worldwide, lasting for tens of thousands of years or perhaps longer. This temperature increase, it appeared, was due to a combination of several factors, but the two important ones seemed to be the ever-increasing human population and, within the last several centuries, the growth of industrialization around the globe. The second factor brought about an ever-reaching alteration of the natural landscape of the planet to fit its needs, without regard to the longterm effects. In the end, both factors contributed to the continuing deterioration of the natural functioning of the planet and its ability to heal from the overreaching, cumulative effects of human misdirected behavior. The result was a net increase in human-generated pollution of the planet’s environment to the extent that it imperiled the natural recycling systems of the planet that had continuously filtered the water and air, enriched the soil, and assured a fairly constant environment over time. When the planet’s environment changed significantly in the past—and Earth certainly knew life-altering occurrences that caused it to both freeze over in one cycle and bake in the next— it was due to the natural interplay of cosmic and solar forces that were eventually reset, time after time, to a more habitable climate for life to exist and evolve. But all this happened within the framework of natural law, a universal constant. Now, the concern among the Council was that the natural life expectancy for this

planet might have been dramatically shortened by perhaps as much as a half billion years by human measure. That meant that an accurate surveillance of the planet by the commander’s ship was critical for the long-term, future survival of the . For if the planet’s ability to continue to life-forms had been significantly degraded, that could affect the decision as to whether or not to continue to pursue occupation. And that decision had to be made in a very short time—if the decision was made not to occupy, then the colony ships would have to be diverted to the second option: two possible planets in another solar system, located in an adjacent quadrant of the galaxy. One of the planet’s capacity to a large-colony population was already established; the other was thought to be satisfactory but, like Earth, needed an updated survey. Tubrang Gilf knew that despite the vastness of the galaxy and the universe, finding a planet anywhere that could life, particularly advanced lifeforms, was a long shot at best. If this planet could not offer what its civilization needed for the long term, then the odds would lengthen and the good choices would narrow.

Chapter 19

Wednesday morning, June 23

H ere was Washington, DC—again! Peter had arrived in the wee hours of the morning, after having spent four grueling hours aboard an air force C-37A executive-type aircraft, dancing around various lines of thunderstorms. Sleep was virtually impossible during the entire trip. He had done much the same thing when he and the group had traveled aboard the C-17 en route from Andrews Air Force Base out to the remote desert facility just a few short days ago. It was amazing how tall some of these thunderheads could get, when a jet, skipping along at over forty thousand feet, had to either fly farther in order to avoid their fury or punch through them, when the frontal boundary stretched from the Texas Panhandle all the way to the Great Lakes. When he finally arrived back at Andrews, Peter was hit with the realization that he had promised himself, when he’d left earlier, that he would never set foot in the city again. Oh, well, he philosophized, very seldom do the promises we make to ourselves and others stand any real chance of being fully kept. We are not, in the end, masters of our own fate. That inevitably falls to those things that we don’t even know about yet, as in the old saying, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” Now, on the way to the same hotel where he’d stayed almost two weeks ago, Peter thought that he would have to defy that line of thinking; he would have to be in charge of certain events in this town over the next several days. Prior to leaving the desert base, General Paige had emphasized the importance of getting the information from Charley Whitmore on the Washington source. Somehow, Peter would have to convince Charley Whitmore to forgo proceeding with breaking the story now, regardless of the pressure from the Washington Daily Herald, with the promise of an exclusive story on all of the behind-the-scene

details once the situation was resolved, including an agreement to not prohibit him from following up at some later date with a book but not including any information relating to national security secrets. Once he checked into the hotel and got into his room, Peter ed Lt. Colonel Bradford to let everyone know back at the base that he was now in place and would be ing Mr. Whitmore within the next hour to set up a time and place to meet. The call was the standard stuff, with the assumed military punctuality to it, except for the end, when the colonel politely informed Peter that they should put aside the previous formalities, now that they were working together on a daily basis, and that he should start calling her Sara, instead of the more distant “Colonel,” and she would start calling him Peter, if that was all right. Peter heartedly agreed and promised to keep Sara personally informed as to his pace of success, as she was the direct conduit to General Paige.

At 11:30 the next morning, Peter was on his way to the meeting with Charley Whitmore. The call late yesterday morning had gotten Charley’s voicemail at the Daily Herald. Peter had left a message, explaining that he couldn’t stop thinking about Charley’s call and had been wondering why he’d called and why the abrupt ending, with Charley saying that he would get back to Peter. He just wanted to follow up to get a better understanding of what this was all about. Charley had returned the call almost immediately, which indicated that he had been monitoring Peter’s call all along, no doubt with caller ID showing Peter’s name and phone number. Being a California ed phone number, however, Charley would not know where the call was originating from but would no doubt try to have it traced somehow, even if only to prove that Peter was indeed in Washington. Charley had insisted that they meet in a public place, preferably with lots of people and noise, so they had agreed to meet at the Lincoln Memorial at noon. Both were to show up at the bottom of the steps carrying a brown-paper lunch bag. Peter approached the memorial exactly at noon, looking throughout the crowd for someone he could scarcely from over two decades ago, let alone try to deduce what Charley Whitmore might look like today. Not surprisingly, there were lots of people milling about, with many men who appeared to be about the age that Charley would be today. It didn’t help that quite a few seemed to be carrying packages that appeared to be brown paper bags. As Peter was about to walk toward one of the numerous park benches where he could sit and get a better perspective on all of the comings and goings, a voice called out from behind him. “Dr. Harrigan, I presume.” Turning around quickly, Peter encountered a somewhat heavyset man with sandy-colored hair, blue eyes, and the typical boyish, California-type surfer smile on his face. Unlike California, however, this surfer dude was dressed in a high-octane business suit, complete with a striped blue shirt with gold cufflinks on the cuffs, which showed as he stuck out his hand, a dark blue tie, and highly polished cordovan shoes that had to have cost many hundreds of dollars. “Charley Whitmore?” Peter inquired, for he really did not know this man from

Adam. He could have been anyone, from a politician, to a lobbyist, to any type of individual inhabiting this strange, unique city, but not a journalist—at least not the appearance of a journalist that Peter could have imagined. “Yes, Peter, even a journalist working for a large, metropolitan newspaper can sometimes afford to dress for success. Actually, this uniform is about as ubiquitous as those they wear at fast-food restaurants, if you want to know the truth.” “Actually,” Peter cut in, “that’s why I’m here, Charley, to get to know the truth about a few things, as I mentioned in my phone message earlier. Your phone call the other day about information you received from a source alleging something about a pending alien invasion, followed by a hurried good-bye, got me thinking about where you were coming from with that story and what sort of verification, if any, you had received to assure yourself as to its validity.” “Peter, first of all, let’s go over to that bench over there and talk about old times for a brief moment, just to get to know one another after so many years. After all, we were just young men back then, and now we’re not. A little catching up will be a good thing, don’t you think?” They quickly walked over to the bench, which had a clear view of the Washington Monument just beyond the reflecting pools, with the dome of the Capitol at the far end of the mall. They got to the bench just before a young couple would have grabbed it. Once seated, Peter did not hesitate in directing the conversation immediately in the desired direction, hoping to block Charley Whitmore’s effort to stonewall the discussion that both knew was the real objective of this meeting. “Charley, I would very much like to catch up on the last several decades of our lives, but that’s best done over several drinks, really. Let’s start the process off with a little bit of serious discussion first, before we get to the fun part. You are the one who called me out of the blue, you know, alleging things that by any measure are more than a little weird. It would help me out if you could fill in the blank spaces for me, so that I have a better understanding of what you were talking about during that call. And what we say here is off the record—is that understood?” “Yes, of course!” Charley Whitmore answered, perhaps too quickly. “Peter, you

know that I cannot reveal the nature of my source, assuming that I really do know who my source is. After my source ed me, particularly after the source mentioned your name, I had to get in touch with you, even if out of the blue, to see what you knew and were willing to tell me. After just a few minutes talking to you, my journalist’s instincts told me that you were hiding something, using that bit about the Roswell, New Mexico, UFO crash years ago as a ploy to discredit both the source and the story. What I can tell you is this: it started with an initial phone call—yes, out of the blue. The caller wanted to know if I was interested in a good story, one that would rock the Washington establishment right off its foundation. At first, I thought this was just another crank call. You’d be surprised how many of those journalists and cops get throughout the year. We usually spend a lot of time chasing those leads down many a dead-end street. Anyway, I was intrigued nonetheless, mainly because the voice seemed to be disguised, perhaps encrypted in some way. I couldn’t tell if the caller was male or female, and to this day, I still do not know. “After the caller abruptly hung up, I ed a friend of mine at the City of Washington Police Department to see if the number could somehow be traced, only to find out later that the caller apparently used one of those throw-away phones that can’t be traced. During the call, I couldn’t believe what the caller was saying. At first, I was going to tell the person to just bug off and bother somebody else with what sounded like nothing more than gibberish, but then your name was mentioned. At first, I did not recognize your name; the caller took no time at all in reminding me that you and I went to school together years ago, out in California. He or she went on to fill me in on myriad details about your encounter with aliens in the desert, about how the US government knew about the alien spacecraft landing, and about an additional alien spacecraft approaching our solar system and planet. The caller hinted about secret systems that the government possessed, capable of detecting and destroying objects in space at great distances. The last thing the caller mentioned was that I should you, even giving me your phone number, Peter, and saying you would this incredible story. I called you almost immediately. “I did have to pause a bit after the caller hung up to question why, assuming the story was credible, I would be the journalist called. While I am certainly known around town, there are ittedly many people in this business with more powerful credentials than mine. You see them on the various national and cable news channels all the time. The only thing that I could come up with is that the Washington Daily Herald, being basically a tabloid paper, is notorious for being

able to track down and publish the bombshell, tell-all stories better than anyone else. You’d be surprised at how many Washington bigwigs read our paper when it comes out first thing in the morning, just to get the behind-the-scenes information that will not necessarily appear even in the national papers, like the Washington Post. “Most surprising of all, Peter, within a half hour of talking to you, the caller ed me again to see if I was satisfied with the integrity of the story. All that I could tell him or her was that you were evasive in your statements, basically saying that the story was just a ruse, a fabrication to get attention. The source insisted that the story was true and that as much information as possible was provided without the caller getting into deep trouble. I was told that further was unlikely in the future and that if I was the journalist that I claimed to be, I could dig out the rest of the information. I was told to—and I quote—“Go straight to the top, but be careful. They have the power to make things difficult for you, if they have to, in order to protect the secrets that are out there.” Now, whenever I go out anywhere, I constantly look over my shoulder to see if I am being tailed. Whenever I make a phone call, I listen for the sound of someone listening in on my conversations. That’s why I insisted on meeting in a public place with some crowd noise. If I or you are being followed, at least maybe we can block out what we are saying. Peter, it’s not me who has to fill you in on what in the hell is going on; it’s you! Just what are you involved in, for God’s sake?” Peter did not know what to say or do. After the conference meeting with the president, everyone in Washington and at the remote base knew that he had to talk to Charley Whitmore and convince him to hold off on running the story, with the promise of an exclusive when it came time for the story to finally come out. It seemed now, based on what Charley had just revealed, that the journalist was still pretty much in the dark as to the relevant details and was still looking for other reliable sources to what his original source had revealed. “Charley, first of all,” Peter started, sounding just a little miffed, “it’s obvious that you exaggerated just a bit about your source when you called it unimpeachable and highly placed with access to secret information. I now realize that you really don’t know much more about him or her or the source’s story than anyone else does. You are asking me and others to simply believe that this source knows what it’s talking about. I will grant you that when your source called you back almost immediately, after you and I hung up, to what I

may have said, it may have possessed the ability to monitor conversations, either directly or through others. I’m sorry that you’re in this journalistic dilemma,” Peter concluded, “but that you’re the one who ed me. In all honesty, I cannot divulge anything, one way or another, at this point. However, with your s here in Washington and across the country, I’m surprised that you don’t have more going for you on this story so far.” “Peter,” Charley replied with more than a hint of exasperation, “s are not necessarily sources, particularly when it may be dangerous to be in possession of or to divulge such sensitive information. There are quite a few people here in Washington who could fill me in on the gory details behind this story, but I’m not holding my breath that any of them will be willing to do that. Believe me, I have been frantically talking to my s in Congress, the Pentagon, the White House, anywhere and everywhere I could think of over the past several days. Nada! To tell you the truth, I’ve been secretly hoping that my only source so far, whoever he or she may be, will grow impatient when he or she sees that nothing is breaking and will me again. In other words, I’m hoping that this person will end up being another Deep Throat, if you want to know the truth. And that makes me feel pretty incompetent as a journalist right now.” Peter ed General Paige’s comment about Charley looking for his Deep Throat, all the while slowly looking around to see if there were any suspicious, threatening characters hanging around—not that he could have recognized a suspicious character amid the throbbing crowd of people coming and going. He was lost at this point. On one hand, he certainly didn’t want Charley Whitmore beating the bushes for enough information to make tomorrow morning’s edition of the Daily Herald. On the other hand, what Charley had mentioned about the warning given by the unknown source did not sit very well. What was the source trying to convey with the warning, “Go straight to the top, but be careful. They have the power to make things difficult?” And if things were that dicey around such secret information, what was the source trying to accomplish by ing anyone to begin with? What was it trying to prove?” “Charley, my advice to you, either way, is to look out for own safety, particularly given what you have just told me. Do not take the chance of digging anymore into this story. It’s not going to be worth it, if you end up in the kind of trouble that threatens your career and possibly your life.”

“Peter, let’s play it this way for the time being, okay?” Charley implored. “I don’t want you to get into any kind of serious trouble over this, and neither do I. However, I think that it’s apparent that something is up, and someone is going to try to keep a lid on it, if possible. So without your saying a thing, if what my source has told me so far has any ring of truth to it, then do not move your head. If, on the other hand, if the story told to me is not true, then shake your head to indicate so.” Peter was taken aback by the proposition made by his boyhood friend. He truly had no obligation to this person at all, for so much time had ed between then and now that any past relationship was just that—in the past. He certainly could have shaken his head no and probably should have, under that circumstances. But something had just happened, although nothing that he could put his finger on. He had been given the opportunity to deny the truth in the simplest of ways, with a simple shake of his head. And he did not have to say a thing. He should have had the courage to simply and emphatically tell the truth, but he did not. He remained silent … and his head remained motionless. “All right, Peter. I appreciate that. I don’t know if you or I will ever have a chance to have another conversation on this topic again, although that would be nice. For the time being, I will continue to tie up the loose ends on this story, although I do not have much hope that will occur overnight. If and when something breaks, I will you by whatever means are possible for verification. We have to continue under the assumption that someone will be watching and listening, so how I get in touch with you will probably take some acrobatics. But I will clear this through you somehow before I break any aspect of the story, just to make certain that the timing is right and neither one of us gets in big trouble. After all, you had some confidence in me, for some reason, to confide with your silence just now about at least a partial truth of the tale. I will look to you for any go-ahead from here, because I really think that you are involved pretty close to the top, which my source cautioned would be the place to go. However, I do not want to strand you there with no way out, just to make a deadline, so I will attempt to clear whatever information I have with you. If my secret source does me again, I will try to get word to you. “In the meantime, you might want to try as best you can to gain some information yourself about this person, for continued revelations from the source, particularly if this person decides to another journalist, could

undermine whatever it is you are trying to do to protect this country and the world, from whatever threat these aliens might represent.” “It’s only been about two weeks since all of this began,” Peter said quietly, “and I had no reason to think that it would ever turn out this way. If I could undo it all, I would in a pair of seconds, but unfortunately, it has gone way beyond that now. My official instructions to you were to try to convince you not to pursue this story for fear that breaking it would cause such an uproar that it would jeopardize any attempts to control the ever-expanding and unpredictable course of events. We were going to promise you an exclusive story at the proper time, complete with all of the details not covered under the guise of national security, plus whatever help would be needed to promote a book afterwards. Who knows —maybe even a movie. Right now, I guess that what I’m asking you to do is just what you have suggested. me first before you do anything, once you think that you have your story all lined up. I suspect that the time will soon arrive when rumors as to what is happening will start to surface from other sources, particularly if your current source decides to try other avenues for leaking the story. I still can’t imagine why anyone would be so determined to jeopardize everything under these circumstances. When that happens, however, the pressure will quickly build at your paper, with your editors wanting to know why you didn’t run with the story earlier, when it could have been an exclusive.” “Well, Peter,” Charley said, looking Peter straight in the eyes, “part of me wants to be ahead of this story, which is the breaking story of all time. Think about it— the person breaking this story will be famous for years to come and will be somebody in the news himself. The story, properly and timely written, could win a Pulitzer. The continuing aspects of the story could be a prize-winning book, an Oscar-winning movie, as you suggested. It’s all there, Peter—enough notoriety and good fortune for a lifetime. Why wouldn’t a journalist worth his salt cast fate to the wind to break the story of the first-known life from another part of our galaxy arriving in our solar system and landing on planet Earth? It’s a story made in heaven, Peter, but there’s only one problem with it. From my read of it so far, it has all the elements of a story that could backfire on everyone involved, from those trying desperately to keep it hidden from the public, to those trying desperately to tell it to the public. It has too much potential energy wrapped up in it, enough to end up hurting a lot of people as the energy is released. Unless you have a handle on the probability for self-destruction, it’s best to play it cautiously. Even my editors at the paper probably wouldn’t touch this hot potato now. Not with the story heavily dripping with national security issues that can

shut down a story faster than lightning and a long list of highly trained government goons that can completely dismember you before the pain hits.” “Nicely put, Charley.” Peter replied. “Notwithstanding the slight exaggerations, I do believe that you have succinctly summed up the dilemma that we face. However, I suspect that when push comes to shove, you’ll still be mightily tempted to run with the story, as in “Damn the torpedoes; full speed ahead!” In that case, when the temptation becomes too much to handle, do as we agreed— call me!” The two men looked at one another, nodded their heads affirmatively, and then agreed to meet later at Peter’s hotel for dinner and drinks, before walking away in the directions from which they had arrived.

Chapter 20

Thursday morning, June 24

“G eneral Paige’s office,” Lt. Colonel Bradford said, answering the phone on the first ring. “This is Colonel Bradford.” “Sara, good morning! This is Peter Harrigan,” he said, trying not to sound too eager to hear the sound of her voice. He had hoped that she would be the one answering the call. “Peter, good morning!” she happily replied. “General Paige is tied up in a conference call with the t Chiefs and General Atkins that will take the rest of the morning. I can leave a message for him to you, but I cannot guarantee that it will even be by the end of the day.” “That’s fine, Sara,” Peter quickly answered. “Actually, I was calling just to talk to you. , I promised to keep you informed while I was in Washington. Plus, if the truth be told, I like talking to colonels much more than generals.” “Well, I was sitting here waiting to hear from you … about your meeting with that journalist. How did it go? Are you still in Washington? If so, when are you returning?” “I wanted to leave as soon as I could after the meeting yesterday,” Peter answered, “but before I could arrange a military flight out of Andrews back to the base, Daryl called to let me know that he had arrived back in Washington himself, getting in yesterday afternoon. You probably know that General Paige sent him here to accompany me to this meeting that the president requested, at the White House for 7:30 this evening, according to Daryl. It’s a good thing that he did call, because to tell you the truth, I forgot all about it. Had I been able to get a flight, I probably would have been out there with you now and making the president of the United States pretty angry. So, how is everything going back there? And, how are you doing, Sara?”

“I’m fine, Peter. Glad to hear from you, or did I already say that? Anyway, things around here are still very tense, as you can imagine. The alien ship has not returned to the base, and we are not certain that it will. And the cloaking device apparently is still engaged, because Stingray does not detect the ship anywhere in near Earth orbit or in the solar system, for that matter. And yes, I knew that Daryl was ordered at the last minute to fly back to Washington for the meeting. With everything going on around here, no one had the foresight to send him along with you on Tuesday. It would have made it a lot easier.” “Sara, Daryl didn’t have time when he called to fill me in on the details of this meeting. He just mentioned why he was in town and that he would meet me at the hotel around five thirty, before proceeding to the White House for the seventhirty meeting. What do you know about the meeting? I cannot imagine why President Hunter would want to meet with Daryl and me.” “Actually, Peter, the president already knows Daryl Stark, which shouldn’t surprise you too much, as Daryl is on just about everyone’s guest list there. She really wants to meet you. The president is very impressed that you were able to communicate so easily with the alien ship’s commander and, given the situation at the time, convince him to cooperate in repairing its spaceship. She ires you for wanting to assist the ship and crew in trying to return to their home planet. Now, of course, we know what their real plan is. Hopefully, we will be able to repulse their advance in time.” “And that time is quickly slipping away, isn’t it? To tell you the truth, Sara, my meeting with Charley Whitmore just about drove me over the edge. After talking for about an hour, all that I could think about was that I wished that Chance and I could have just had our usual morning walk in the desert on June 10 without encountering anything other than scorpions, lizards, and cactus.” “What happened at the meeting, Peter? I was worried—we were worried—that Charley would refuse to cooperate, perhaps under pressure from his editors to run with the breaking news before the competition could get hold of the story.” “Actually,” Peter said, “Charley didn’t have much more information about the story or who the source might be than we did. He was equally as concerned about the overall threat to our national security as we are. I did indicate—by default. if nothing else—that what his source told him on the first phone call was basically true, without going into any details. The meeting ended up with the two

of us promising to keep in touch as this story unfolds. He is going to concentrate on getting to the source, primarily because no one else in the city is willing or able to anything that his source initially revealed. In fact, on a second call, whoever the source is basically told Charley that it could not reveal anything more out of fear of reprisals. Another thing that is apparent, Sara, is that the source convinced Charley that he or she is situated at or close to the top of the action, which I would say has to be either in the Pentagon or the White House. Charley was told that he would have to go straight to the top to continue to get the necessary information for his story.” “Oh, Peter, that is what I have suspected and feared all along, since the threat of this media exposure first raised its ugly head. So far, the flow of information has been so restricted that only someone trusted with information at the highest security levels at any of the organizations involved, or someone working close to such persons on a daily basis, could divulge any of this. I know many of us in General Paige’s office have suspected from the beginning that the lid could only be kept on this for so long, before someone, motivated by whatever political or personal leanings, would threaten our efforts, whether a spaceship repair, which was never really an option anyway, or attempts to thwart ending an alien invasion.” “Yeah, I know,” Peter quietly acknowledged. “I guess that I was just a simple, focused archeologist, accustomed only to probing the past aspects of civilizations from a strictly scientific perspective, when I came in with that alien space ship. It seems now like years ago. I guess, for me, it’s easier to explore the nature of life already lived and to unravel why past civilizations have come and gone than it is to contend with human nature in the flesh and in the present, with all of the contentiousness that comes with people just trying get along. Easier to discover the mistakes of the past than to figure out how best to live in the present. Life, through the past, speaks to me very directly, without the day-to-day discord that tends to confuse the issues. The only question is, can civilization today learn from its past?” “I can sense that you are a very introspective man,” Sara interjected. “I’m sorry that this had to disrupt your life as it has. And it doesn’t look like the situation is going to change for the better any time soon. How has your family been taking this so far? I know that you aren’t able to reveal too much to them about exactly what has been happening. This must be a real strain on them.”

“Sara, it’s just been me and my good friend, Chance—Chance being a German shepherd—for the past three years.” Peter could not figure out later why he chose at that time to confide in Sara, other than while he had healed for the most part since Kristen’s death, the center core of missing her and the lingering loneliness as a result were still there, three years later, hidden and simmering deep within. All that had somehow been awakened in the short time that he had known Lt. Colonel Sara Bradford. “You see, Sara, one of the reasons that I tend to spend so much time walking in the desert, which most recently turned out to be of questionable value, is that I lost my wife quite suddenly three years ago. I am a widower.” “Peter, I am so sorry!” Sara quickly replied. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself inquiring about your family. It was a cruel thing to do!” “Believe me, Sara, you have nothing to be sorry about,” Peter assured her. “There is no way that you could have known. Besides, I wanted you to know. I can’t explain why. Maybe knowing you, even if only for a short time, although under less than desirable circumstances, has awakened in me the fact that walking alone in the desert for too long becomes just an excuse for not facing the fact that life must go on.” “Thank you, Peter,” Sara quietly replied. “I am happy that you felt that you could confide in me. And believe me, I do understand. I have been on my own for longer than you, since my divorce more than five years ago. Both of us were career military. I was an army lieutenant stationed in Washington in military intelligence at the Pentagon. My husband was a navy lieutenant commander, stationed at NAS Oceana in Virginia Beach in an FA-18 Hornet squadron. We were introduced by a common friend at a Washington gala one night, and that started a wild fling and a quick marriage that startled everyone, including us. It was an arrangement that was not destined to last. I was completely at ease in the Washington lifestyle, although I was stationed in for two years before being reassigned back to the Pentagon, but he wanted only to fly and cruise the high seas on an aircraft carrier as a hotshot jet jockey. It was a military relationship, particularly in two different branches, that was a long shot at best.” “I guess,” Peter itted. “Anyone in the meantime? Someone who can share your comfortable life in Washington at least?”

“No, not really. It’s a hard thing to do, meeting someone new and feeling comfortable with him, as you can probably imagine. As you grow older, you become both more comfortable in what is your life, even though you’re alone, and hardened when it comes to making another mistake that will take it away from you. However, like you, the loneliness becomes overwhelming from time to time. You begin to realize that time can take away those opportunities for happiness, if you’re not aware. But again, the problem is recognizing them when they arrive. There! See what you’ve done! I hope you’re happy, Peter Harrigan. You’ve made me display my maudlin side. As an army officer, I am supposed to be in charge of the situation at all times, particularly my emotions.” “Well, if you ask me,” Peter quickly interjected, “I like you more as someone with those emotions than I would otherwise. It means that you are approachable to going out with me when the opportunity presents itself. , I said that walking in the desert alone too long can be a problem, not that the problem was walking in the desert. I would love to show you and share with you my desert, complete with the most amazing display of stars in the night sky and the most breathtaking vistas of the landscape in the morning sun.” The silence was almost overpowering. Both were hesitant to speak for fear that the moment, fragile in its newness, would , never to be retrieved again. Finally … “Peter, I would love to do that. Now, you have to go, and so do I, before I start crying. How’s that for emotion coming from an army officer?”

Chapter 21

T he knock on the door occurred exactly at 5:30 p.m. When Peter looked into the peephole, a distorted version of Daryl Stark’s face stared back at him. He opened the door until the chain in place stopped it. “I guess someone should hotel security immediately, but if you can just walk in unchallenged like this, then I guess they really don’t have any,” Peter said, as he opened the door and stepped aside to let his former college roommate enter. “What are you talking about, señor?” Daryl responded with a bad Hispanic accent. “I am hotel security, and you’re under arrest for impersonating a person of some intelligence. You see, we don’t allow any such people in Washington. Here, it helps to have the IQ of a summer squash.” “Very funny, Daryl. I certainly hope that you clean up your act before we present ourselves at the White House. And speaking of meeting with the president of the United States of America, two hours from now, what in the world are we doing meeting with the president of the United States of America, two hours from now? Sara tried to explain it to me, but I still don’t understand what we are supposed to do or say that can be of any help to Madam President. My God, man, she must have a staff of several thousand people, not to mention all of the military types and those connected to the dozen or so security and intelligence agencies. What can you or I possibly provide?” Daryl froze for a moment; then, assuming a perplexed expression, he asked, “Sara? Who is Sara? Whoever she is, where do you have her hidden? I really don’t think that we’ll be able to sneak her into the White House with us, Peter.” “Again, very funny,” Peter answered, alarmed that he had mentioned General Paige’s adjutant in such a familiar way in front of Daryl. “You know who she is. There probably isn’t a woman in this town whose first name—and a hell of a lot more—you don’t know. She certainly knows about you and your questionable reputation, that’s for sure.”

“All I can say is,” Daryl shot back, “ you have a well-established social requirement to invite your former roommate and very best friend to the wedding. You know how I love a good wedding reception, particularly the open bar, although I can really get myself into a lot of trouble with an open bar. But you have to have one!” “Okay, so Sara Bradford and I have talked recently. I assure you that it doesn’t mean a thing … probably.” Daryl wisely decided not to pursue the delicate topic further. It was important to get down to business about the meeting. There were a few instructions from General Paige for Peter, plus a briefing by Daryl on the prescribed procedures for going through White House security and the basic format of the meeting itself, which would last only about twenty minutes, if the president’s evening schedule was full. The occasion called for the usual after-dinner business attire, or somewhere between the more formal attire of tux and black tie, suitable for a White House dinner, and Washington dress casual, for the rigors of the day-to-day office grind. In other words, the dark gray business suit, white shirt, blue tie, black wingtips, which Daryl had brought along for Peter and which were similar to what Daryl himself was wearing.

After hanging up with Peter Harrigan, Sara Bradford sat quietly at the desk, pondering the nature of the phone call that had just ended. It was impossible to fully understand the effects of the call, for it was both anticipated, particularly in the past few days, yet unexpected, at least this soon. Sara had found Peter Harrigan attractive from the first time she met him at the Pentagon just ten days ago, the morning of his first meeting with General Paige. Despite the brief encounter, she had sized him up as a man of substance. She had read the résumé on Peter Harrigan that the general had provided, showing him to be highly accomplished in several areas, including the head of the Department of Archeology and Anthropology at Stanford, where he also taught. Then, over the past days since that first meeting, Sara had observed him on those occasions involving other meetings, preparing for the initial inspection of the alien spacecraft, working with the others in the group, yet in close proximity to her, here at this remote base in the desert. She could not help but be attracted to him, although she could not have answered why, if asked. It had something to do with the enhanced threat that they all faced with the probable alien invasion. She was worried for him, she itted, and sorry that things were turning out the way they seemed to be. Any idea of a relationship had never entered her mind until a few days ago, and then she could not imagine how one could even begin. Her marriage gone bad— why had she told him about that?—had taught her that close relationships that last are a rarity, if the lovers are not truly matched for each other. It was that “for better or worse, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part” thing that caused all the trouble, wasn’t it? The “better” part was easy; it was the “worse” that caused all the problems. And sickness and health were assumed as unavoidable in any event. Perhaps she had thought that being in the military, they could just order things to turn out only for the better, defeating the worse somehow in the field of battle. But they both turned out to be only human, despite the uniforms. Yet Peter was right about the loneliness. What had he said? Walking alone in the desert for too long becomes just an excuse for not itting that life must go on. And he had confided in her. He had been willing to take that chance to talk about

his past suffering and the need to go on, perhaps with her. So here we are, Peter Harrigan, she thought. You are a man with distinguished good looks; you’re successful and charming, and a man who is not afraid to think large, urging others to take on seemingly insurmountable tasks. And I am a woman also with charm and youthful good looks, even after years of competing successfully in what is still mostly a man’s world. We both are lonely and on the cusp of finally itting it to ourselves. Is it possible for us to stop walking alone in the desert, to it to ourselves that we can see life going on in successful after all? Are we truly matched for one another? Or if that is not possible, can we learn that life can go on in any event? There is no other honest choice.

The White House Secret Service personnel escorted Peter and Daryl down the corridor that led to the Oval Office, the most iconic room of every presidency. Everyone that Peter had encountered since gaining entry to the building had acted as if this was just another day at the office, although the nation’s primary office in this case. He suspected that underneath all of this calm was a high-tech and high-strung apparatus of intense security. He could almost imagine quiet voices talking in the background in a dark, secret room located behind walls and/or beneath floors, looking up at monitors, while listening on earphones to persons coming and going, assuring the utmost oversight of each and every action—and thought?—of each and every person who came within striking distance of the president of the United States of America. Peter ed reading that this office had grown in power over the intervening centuries. In the beginning, as the founding fathers debated in Philadelphia in the hot summer of 1787 on how to create a successful constitutional government, they envisioned the office as being nothing more than a handmaiden of Congress, merely istering the laws after they were enacted. Later, they agreed on a much more powerful office, with the legislative veto over congressional legislation and the title of commander in chief over the country’s armed forces and state militias. George Washington, the first president, started it all by eschewing any monarchal titles, such as Your Majesty, and establishing the two-term presidency as the norm. Over the decades, persons and events had continuously conspired to add powers to the office, some of which could only be loosely interpreted in some of the vague wordings of the Constitution. Today, various politicians and their political parties were constantly critical of those presidential powers, until they happen to win the elections that put them in the office, at the desk, and in the seat of the president of the United States of America. The Secret Service personnel met the presidential secretary, who thanked them as she lightly tapped on and opened one of several doors leading to the room. “Madam President, Mr. Harrigan and Mr. Stark to see you,” she announced. And that was it. Peter and Daryl suddenly found themselves in the historic room, as President Anne Hunter rose from the presidential desk, seen by millions of

citizens, and approached them. “Mr. Harrigan, I am so pleased to meet you,” the president said with honest sincerity. “I assure you that you come well recommended by everyone who has been involved with you in this ongoing situation.” “Thank you, Madam President,” Peter responded. He felt strangely numb, and his ears seemed to be ringing. He knew that his pulse was racing. “And Mr. Stark, how good it is to see you again.” “Thank you, Madam President. It is a pleasure to see you again as well.” As President Hunter led them to another iconic setting, which was the configuration of two couches, with end tables and lamps, and a chair placed at the head, Peter noticed a second figure sitting at one end of a couch closest to that chair, which he assumed was where the president sat. In the days of Jack Kennedy’s istration, his famous rocking chair occupied that space, and Peter could seeing a picture of President Kennedy sitting there during the overwhelming pressure of the Cuban missile crisis. “Mr. Harrigan,” the president, continued, “excuse me—may I call you Peter? It makes conversation much less formal and more comfortable. Allow me to introduce to you my national security advisor, Patricia Thomas.” Ms. Thomas stood and held out her hand. “Mr. Harrigan, a pleasure to meet you at last. I can honestly say that I have heard a great deal about you over the past week or so, and that all of it speaks highly of you.” “Thank you, Ms. Thomas,” Peter responded with some hesitation as they all took their seats. Not having been prepped as to who else might be in the room, he wasn’t sure how to address her, by her name or position? “Peter,” the president quickly resolved what might have been an obvious faux pas, “let me begin by saying that what started out for you as something fairly simple—although I cannot imagine running into aliens as being simple, under any circumstances—has become something beyond what any of us could have imagined happening. How are you holding up?” Sitting on the couch directly across from the national security advisor, Peter

found himself as close to the president as one of her most influential aides. However, even with Daryl sitting next to him, he was not that comfortable formulating an answer to a question that should have been easy. He either was holding up, or he was not. “I suppose the answer is, about as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” Peter responded. He hoped that he would begin to feel more relaxed now that they were seated in a more homelike setting, which was the purpose, after all. “It still has a somewhat dreamlike feel to it, partly because events seem to be cascading out of control, beyond my ability to put them into perspective.” “I think that is a factor for all of us at this time,” the president quietly added. “I talked to General Paige earlier this evening. He assures me that he and the rest of the t Chiefs, along with all branches of the military, NASA, and our allies across the globe, are on alert and are monitoring continuing developments on a real-time basis. I am assured that events are still unfolding as predicted earlier. The nearest approaching craft is now within the earlier estimated arrival time of three weeks, approximately by mid-July. “By the way, that alien spaceship finally decided to return to the remote base several hours ago—three p.m. our time. According to General Atkins, the alien commander is still insisting that its absence for that length of time was to thoroughly flight-check the craft in light of additional problems detected, subsequent to the failure of its stabilizer. Both General Paige and General Atkins obviously suspect the lie behind that statement but do not want to challenge the commander and its crew at this time. That, however, will have to change shortly. The problem is trying to figure out what and how to deal with them, so as not to alert any of the other alien ships and crews. We suspect that they are communicating by now, which is probably one reason the spacecraft was absent as long as it was—to plan the details for the next level of encounter within the month.” “Madam President,” Daryl spoke up, “what is your read on Washington at this time? I know that the congressional leaders have been briefed and I imagine are being kept up-to-date. Any hint that the lid on this could blow off in this town, particularly in light of Charley Whitmore of the Washington Daily Herald and his mysterious source? That situation could make things particularly difficult for all of us.”

“Mr. Stark,” the president answered, “I am hopeful that since this source of Mr. Whitmore’s apparently has not decided to reveal any more than he or she already has, all of which still remains unsubstantiated by any other sources, as far as I know, the allegations will fall flat. No one else in the media has even hinted at this story, which amazes me, and Mr. Whitmore is presumably still trying to firm up the story for publication but so far without results, based on our sources. This brings us to Peter’s meeting with Mr. Whitmore about this very topic. Have you heard anything one way or the other from your journalist friend since yesterday morning’s meeting? And to what degree do you think that you can trust his pledge to you with any new information that he might dig up?” Now Peter knew why Daryl had been invited to this meeting with the president. His job was to be a steadying influence for someone meeting the country’s head of state for the first time and to assure that the conversation would quickly unfold, so that the meeting would go smoothly and not exceed the short time allotted. Daryl likely had been briefed by General Paige to introduce the operative question, so that the pertinent information would be conveyed, and the president would get to greet and meet the new visitor while staying on schedule. That also explained how the president knew about Charley Whitmore’s pledge. The briefing that he had provided the general after the meeting yesterday had obviously made its way to the White House, perhaps by Daryl, who had been immediately dispatched to Washington to ride herd over the meeting. “Well, Madam President, I became reacquainted with Charley Whitmore only recently. The last time that I saw him, prior to yesterday, was decades ago. Do I know that I can trust him implicitly when it comes to his ing me to clarify or confirm information? No, I do not. I hope that he will, though. He did reaffirm that when we had dinner afterwards. Mr. Whitmore, however, is a journalist and, I think, a pretty good one. I don’t see him overlooking what has to be the story of the century—or for all time, for that matter—and not endeavoring to write the story for publication, unless he still does not know all that much or knows enough to truly scare him into cooperating with the government and its efforts to defend this country. He also thinks that the editors at the paper will exercise discretion, given the situation.” “Does Mr. Whitmore know any more than the basic outline of the story, as far as you know? What his source initially revealed?” asked the president’s NSA.

“Ms. Thomas, what Mr. Whitmore initially told me on first was nothing more than an outline of events, as given by a voice that was somehow disguised so as to be unrecognizable. The source did suggest a few names, mine being one, but apparently did not reveal any technical details, certainly nothing about the existence of either Stingray or Telescope. The source seemed intent on making Charley do the leg work in order to develop the story. All that the source insisted upon was that Charley would have to ‘go to the top.’ I’m not so sure exactly what that means. My impression, correct or not, is that this source is probably mid-level, maybe a little higher, presumably here in Washington, and with obvious access to certain classified information, enough to put together a plausible storyline. Perhaps he is motivated by assuring that the public is not kept in the dark about such a serious event, by revealing only enough to get the media on the story, at least at this time. Why he chose Charley, according to Charley himself, is because he works for a tabloid and therefore would not be so intent on necessarily ing his or her information before going to print. So far, I really don’t think that Charley Whitmore has had much success in filling out or substantiating the details through other dependable sources. He made the comment to me that perhaps this single source might become another Deep Throat, supplying further information in the event that the story is not revealed quickly enough. General Paige alluded to that possibility as well.” There was a silence that indicated that the meeting might be winding down. The president’s national security advisor, however, was not finished. “Peter, you said that the last official with Mr. Whitmore was yesterday morning’s meeting, followed by the two of you meeting again for dinner later. Is that right?” “Yes, that’s right.” “And during that time, Mr. Whitmore did not offer any other information or speculation that would have revealed something more about his source or something that would have indicated that he knew more about the nature of the story than he indicated to you earlier? In other words, you both were relaxing over dinner and nothing more was added to what was said at your morning meeting. No elaboration at all? Didn’t he try to pump you for more information?” “I really don’t know what you are insinuating here, Ms. Thomas,” Peter

responded slightly annoyed. “Yes, we were relaxing. We had several drinks and spent a good deal of time going over the past three decades or so, bringing each other up-to-date and commenting on how improbable it was that we managed to end up together at dinner last night, after not seeing one another for many years. I it that I did not pump him for more information on his source, mainly because we had covered that earlier, and he did not try to pump me for more information on the story, which had also been covered earlier. We just had something to eat to cap off the day. At the end of dinner, which lasted around two hours, we again pledged to keep in touch. Hopefully, that will occur. “I think that Charley doesn’t want to get himself in some kind of major trouble over this. Given the nature of events over the past two weeks, with all of the secrecy and government involvement, I think that Charley is smart enough to know that he is going to have to figure out how to play both sides here, the paper and Washington, if he is to come out unscathed.” “Peter,” the president jumped in, “I do not think that Patricia was trying to insinuate anything, one way or the other with her questions. It is imperative that we get a handle on this quickly. I suggest that you call Mr. Whitmore tomorrow to initiate this between the two of you. Thank him for meeting with you, that sort of thing. Set the stage for some fairly consistent with him, so that we don’t end up getting blindsided. The quicker that we can find out who this source is, the less your journalist will have to work with to build a credible story. In the end, we may have to take measures—and quickly—to assure that such a story never sees print. In the meantime, thank you so much for your visit, Mr. Harrigan. And you, Mr. Stark. Please, continue to keep everyone informed as more details about this become known.” With that, everyone stood up and shook hands. A door opened into the Oval Office, and a female Secret Service agent entered and escorted Peter and Daryl to the east door exit.

Chapter 22

Friday morning, June 25

A s Peter and Daryl were en route back to the remote base on the 0730 hours flight out of Andrews Air Force Base, Tubrang Gilf was awaiting the arrival of the human-in-charge, due to arrive with the rising of the planet’s sun in a few hours. With the return of the alien spaceship yesterday, the alien commander and crew were waiting for the reaction to its earlier unannounced departure and delayed arrival. Hard to imagine that the humans at this base were going to be accommodating about the decision to fly off without coordinating the plan with the human called General Paige. Although the flight accomplished most of the desired objectives, including communicating with the primary exploration ship and establishing a point for rendezvous, there was still the objective of determining the suitability of the planet for the long-term needs of the aboard the many Colony ships. It had been some time since the Council had last surveyed this solar system to determine the maturation stage of this planet. Again, there was no doubt that the human population had started an accelerated decline of the planet’s natural ability to continuously renew itself. When Tubrang Gilf’s predecessors had first visited this section of the galaxy and had discovered this solar system anchored by a less-than-distinguished sun, the third planet out had appeared somewhat less than an opportune destination for exploration. The planet’s surface had been barren of any significant life-forms, the atmosphere being a soupy mixture of mostly acidic gases. Only later, after the age of millions of Earth years, did the next age through reveal that the atmosphere had cooled and cleaned to the point where water filled most of the surface and varied life-forms were evident on the planet’s large, singular land mass. Subsequent explorations over vast amounts of time produced an entirely

different appraisal of the planet. The singular land mass had separated into many smaller ones, and most displayed the capability to sentient life-forms. Alive on the surfaces was a significant array of evolving life, with one in particular that seemed to display some traits found in other outlying systems that ed life. Eventually, more recent generations of Colony had landed on the planet’s surface with the intent of establishing a relatively permanent outpost. Over time, the Colony had formed a rather close bond with those bipedal beings, taking them into the future at a significantly faster pace than normal maturation would have allowed. Eventually, they were taught how to build vast monuments that were turned, over time, into centers for worshiping the creatures who had arrived from the skies. At some earlier point, it had been decided to go further and directly influence the genetic basis for their continued and controlled evolution. Some of this had occurred in any event, with the unavoidable physical interaction between the human stock and certain of the colony. This interaction, however, produced a bastardized strain that alarmed the Colony leaders, because the offspring were generally too aggressive to be well managed. So the AKARs in charge decided to continue this intervention only through strictly controlled genetic engineering procedures. The primary objective all along was to produce a strain of humanoid life-forms that could be used by the Colony established on the planet to perform some of the higher levels of physical work, without having to worry about dealing with the threat that the earlier, more aggressive humans posed. What ensued over the span of several generations was that it became impossible to prevent the physical interaction that naturally occurred between the more aggressive humans and those created through direct genetic intervention. That specific population segment expanded so quickly that the much smaller group of Colony could no longer control future program development. The only decision possible, after several Earth centuries, was to abandon the project altogether and return the exploratory colony to the home planet. After the age of too much time unobserved, it was imperative that the alien crew complete the new, updated survey as to where the planet stood, now that this particular humanoid strain had had the time to directly influence what

otherwise would have been the continued, natural evolution on the surface. So far, the preliminary data, visual and compiled, indicated the distinct possibility that the planet’s surface was dramatically heating up due to the spreading populations and the resulting activity to free up more and more land area to create living space, as well the acreage to grow the increasingly larger and larger amounts of food. The unrelenting search for more and more sources of fossil fuel energy to accomplish all of this had produced its own destructive results, with vast tracts of land across the continents mostly devoid of indigenous life and the ability to restore it. The continued use of certain punishing drilling techniques used to obtain the truly deep-down reserves of fossil fuel served to crack the once-settled top of the earth’s crust farther down than originally anticipated, releasing even more gases that polluted the ground water. Over the centuries, so much natural growth had disappeared as a result of this unrestricted human activity that it startled the ship’s commander when it first observed the current situation. Both polar caps were now almost entirely free of the once huge, flowing, continent-size glaciers. More and more of the once icecovered, semi-frozen land masses were now at such high average temperatures across the planet’s natural weather cycles that the threat of a catastrophic release of once-contained, pent-up toxic gases released from the now-thawed ground throughout those areas loomed large. A similar threat existed with the release of those same deadly gases from the floors of the larger bodies of water that were once much colder and frozen through much of the annual weather cycles as well. Everywhere they surveyed during this last flight revealed evidence of man’s unrestrained effort to bend nature to his own purposes, without regard to the future. There was now not one drop of naturally potable water on the planet within ready access to the populations. The survival of humans relied exclusively on the ability to continuously recycle polluted water and ground soil, for even the ground that used to grow their food and raise their animal stock had become more and more contaminated with artificial chemicals used to enhance the growing process. All of this was unavoidable in the frantic effort to keep their collective yearning for more under some sort of control, not realizing that the ultimate, desired end was now so much illusion slipping farther and farther beyond their grasp. The operative question was whether all of this had proceeded to the point where

it was no longer possible for the planet to life at this level beyond the end of this century, as these humans measured time? If so, it certainly would not the lives of the myriad colony heading toward it. The fact of the matter will be known soon enough, it thought, when all of the data recently amassed has been finally processed.

The return flight from Andrews to the desert base went without any unpleasant weather or other en-route problem—a welcome change, as far as Peter was concerned. The hint of a problem did not occur until after the air force jet landed just before noon. The base seemed to be on a lockdown. Guards were posted everywhere. The word quickly leaked out to Peter and Daryl, as they walked across the tarmac packed with military aircraft of various types, that those assigned to the base who were not on duty were restricted to the barracks until further notice. Surprisingly missing, they noticed, was the alien spacecraft—until they saw that it had been moved into the hangar, though much of it was sticking out. They first walked over to the headquarters building to check in with General Paige and meet with any of the others in the in-house group who might still be on base. Entering the building, they both saw that the military bearing in evidence outside was equally in place inside. They were immediately challenged inside the door, asked to show ID and a allowing them to be present in the building. As they were about to protest that they had just landed and knew nothing about any new procedures, Lt. Colonel Bradford entered the hallway in front of them and approached the army corporal guard. “They are with me, soldier. I will speak for them and issue them the appropriate ID, so stand aside.” The corporal quickly turned to see who had just spoken and immediately gave way, so that Peter and Daryl could . Peter could not hide his joy in seeing Sara again, and she smiled brightly for both of them, while looking directly at Peter. “Peter, Daryl, welcome back … I think,” she said. “I tried to get word to you before you left Andrews to prepare you for some of the changes that have occurred since you left. I realize that it has only been about forty-eight hours, but so much has happened. The pace of activity has been unrelenting lately.” They had walked down the main corridor and into the anteroom to General Paige’s office. Sara walked around to her desk, but before she could continue with the explanation of changes, Daryl begged off for the moment to visit the men’s room—or HEAD, MENS, as it was newly stenciled on the door in the

hallway. Peter suspected that, notwithstanding the actual need to go, Daryl had left to give Peter and Sara just a few minutes alone. “Peter, I tried to you, but you had left the hotel, and apparently my message did not make it to the appropriate hangar on base. Things here were coming to a head quickly, and I wanted to give you some kind of a heads-up beforehand, even though there has been a restriction in place on outgoing communications. It’s almost as if we are on a war footing now without an actual declaration. Generals Paige and Atkins have been in closed-door meetings with the remaining of your group and others, on conference calls almost continuously since you left.” “That’s okay, Sara, really,” Peter quietly replied. “To tell you the truth, the only reason that I was even on a plane out of Andrews back to here was because I wanted to see you again. I realize that there are things currently happening of greater scope than any one person, but there are also those things that cannot be denied, even in such times as these, and seeing you again was on the top of my list, if you must know.” “Well, sir, you do have a way of speaking directly, don’t you,” Sara said quietly, with a beguiling smile. “It just so happens that I like a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to speak up for himself. In other words, what took you so long to get back here? I was worried about you, as I believe I told you earlier. Actually, I was worried that General Paige would order the base shut down before you could get back.” “I’m back,” Peter assured her, as Daryl returned from the head. He waited until Daryl walked up before he continued. “Now that Daryl has managed to get his act together, Colonel, perhaps you can give us a quick briefing on occurring events, and then maybe we can get in to see the general and the others.” “Peter,” Daryl quickly interrupted, “really, you can call her Sara in from of me. After all, I am your college roommate and all-time best friend, you know. Besides, you already told me, in so many words, that you really like her.” “Now that Daryl has managed to make a complete fool of himself by trying to embarrass me in front of you, Sara, perhaps you can give us a quick briefing, before I proceed to beat my college roommate and all-time best friend over the head with the first hard object that I can find.”

Sara started to laugh, in no small part due to her relief that Peter was back. She had to sit down at her desk and pretend to be busy doing something, looking around the room to see if anyone might be watching. Luckily, there were only two junior officers in the immediate area, and they were attending to something that kept their attention. “Okay, gentlemen, please be seated and behave yourselves. There is a lot to go over, so pay attention.”

Just as Sara was finishing sharing the information, the door to General Paige’s office opened, and Peter’s brother, Paul, walked out on his way to the restroom. When he noticed who was seated in front of the lieutenant colonel’s desk, he quietly walked over and tapped Peter on the back of his head. Sara had noticed him approaching but did not indicate anything. She wanted Peter to be surprised by his brother’s presence. She liked his brother and suspected that time had mostly kept the two apart until this recent event. Sara wanted to know more about this man, Peter, who strongly attracted her, for some reason that she was trying to discern. The talk that they had while he was away in Washington had a surprising and dramatic impact on her. Talking to Peter about his wife’s death and about her divorce had highlighted that there actually was life—a real life, an everyday and meaningful life, an emotional life —beyond the day-to-day identity that they carried with them through their jobs and careers. Nothing could be any more demanding than serving in the military as a career choice, which she had made while in high school and college, serving in the ROTC programs at both; later in Officers Candidate School after graduation. Her father had been career military, and Sara, an only child, had actually enjoyed traveling as a military family around the world. As an adult in her own career, she discovered firsthand the sacrifices that military families had to make each time there was a transfer to a distant foreign land or one that sent the soldier away, while the family remained to piece life together as best they could. Now, watching Peter and his brother embracing, laughing, and just being brothers at an older time in their lives, Sara envied them such a close, casual relationship that could span time and events, however imperfectly, keeping them emotionally close, even as they had pursued their own life’s destinies. She knew that she wanted that other aspect of a meaningful life. She wanted to be with that special someone who provided such an important emotional anchor, and she strongly suspected that Peter was a strong and tested man who could complement her wishes and aspirations for happiness and belonging. “So, Peter,” Paul was saying, as Sara left her thoughts and returned to the room and the conversation, “welcome back. And you, Daryl. You’ve arrived at an

opportune time, certainly, now that the rest of us have worked our fingers to the bone, having to carry the weight for you two in your unexcused absences. And Colonel Bradford, here—she has been frantically trying to your lowly asses, calling bar after bar into the early hours of the morning.” “Don’t forget all of the police stations too!” Sara happily inserted herself in the conversation. “Paul … Paul, please!” Daryl mock protested. “Peter and I were covering ground that you and the others could only hope to do, such as meeting with the president of the United States of America—yes, the president!—and meeting with various high-ranking government officials and of the Fourth Estate. While you and the others were here playing army, we were making the Constitution come alive!” Paul stood silently for a moment, shaking his head, not quite knowing how to respond to Daryl’s insane comments. Finally, he said, “I was going to go to the restroom to pee, but now I have to go throw up as well … so, please excuse me. Oh! By the way, there is work going on in there, and General Paige knows that you’re back, so I probably would get your butts in there right now, if I were you.” And he was gone. “General Paige did just call for you to go in, so go!” Sara said. “We can talk later, Peter. Dinner at the Officers Club later?” “It’s a date.” Peter replied, as Daryl opened the office door, and he and Peter disappeared inside.

Chapter 23

“W elcome back, gentlemen,” General Paige exclaimed, as Peter and Daryl walked into the room. The general, along with General Atkins, Karl Holzhauer, and Katrina Douglas, sat at two portable tables, with multiple phones and computers, that had been set up in a corner by the windows, looking out on the base hangars and aircraft flight lines. As the two were taking chairs at empty places at the tables, Paul returned and took his seat. General Paige and the group had been going over the latest data from NASA, based on telemetry from Telescope and Stingray, both of which surprisingly showed a slight hesitation in the continuing advance of all alien spacecraft. The advance ship was within three weeks, at the most, from entering the solar system; the two larger groupings of spacecraft showed one several months behind and the third estimated to arrive much later. Prior to Peter and Daryl’s arrival, they had been speculating on this development and its significance. “Colonel Bradford …” General Paige spoke into what appeared to be an old intercom system on one of the tables. “Please come in here and bring that folder of information that we are sending to the White House later.” “Yes, General, I will be right there,” she replied. As General Paige looked up at the rest of the group, Lt. Colonel Bradford was already walking into the room. He noticed and motioned for her to take a seat, and she took the nearest one on the side next to Peter. Neither one noticed the looks from the other , excluding General Paige, looks that conveyed something other than disinterest in the fact that Sara could have chosen the seat next to the general on the other side of the table. “Colonel Bradford will be ing us from now on, since the pace of activity may be slowing down somewhat, depending on the interpretation of the latest NASA data. It has been my intention to have included her as part of our efforts all along, but the earlier pace of events precluded that from happening. All the while, she has been thoroughly briefed on all developments, including the very latest.

“She has actually been the glue holding all of the details together for us, from our earlier meetings in Washington, to the movement out to this base, including the inspection of the spaceship. Without her coordinating and managing the myriad information and details from day one, I really do not know what I would have done, and I assure you that goes for the other departments and agencies as well. Welcome to the group!” “Thank you, General Paige,” she answered without hesitation. “I certainly hope that I can continue be a helpful, contributing member.” “I am positive that you will be. So, for the benefit of the returning prodigal sons, let me summarize the recent events that have occurred during their absence.” With that, the general reached over to pick up the folder that the lt. colonel had placed before him. He opened it and dug down before lifting out material stapled together. “As I believe the president told both of you, the alien spacecraft returned yesterday afternoon as suddenly as it left. My immediate reaction, upon greeting the ship’s commander and crew, was to commandeer the craft and move it into the hangar, much over the strident objections of your friend Klingon, as you refer to him. I do not know if the encounter almost came to violence, because the ship was completely surrounded by several hundred heavily armed soldiers. I also ordered the base put under twenty-four restrictions in order to keep everyone on alert around the clock, which you no doubt noticed after you landed. “Since then, the entire alien crew has been restricted to the hangar proper and so far has cooperated. I have had two meetings with the commander in the meantime, explaining the need for cooperation from it and its crew, if we are ever to begin a timely repair. Obviously, I am still approaching this from the standpoint that a repair is where all of this is heading, in order to continue to disguise the reality of the situation until we can get some final things in place. I don’t for a minute think that the commander is thinking along the lines of a repair at this point. “The assumption is that when the alien spacecraft suddenly took off, it was trying to the approaching ship to arrange a rendezvous, all under the guise of having to flight-check additional malfunctions related to the stabilizer.

We think that the crew intended to eventually abandon their spaceship, thus the rendezvous in space, as the approaching vessel arrived in our solar system, probably somewhere outside of lunar orbit. Why they decided to return to this base yesterday, after having successfully escaped, is a mystery that may have something to do with the most recent data from NASA, which we have been discussing since this morning. That data indicates that all of the approaching ships have slowed their approach to our solar system. The change is subtle but surprising nonetheless. Katrina was starting to posit a reason when the two of you showed up,” he said, looking over at Peter and Daryl. “Katrina, you are up.” “Thank you, General,” she began. “At this point, based on the latest data from both Telescope and Stingray, I think that we can affirm that these alien ships have slowed their approach to our solar system significantly. Assuming that there was a pressing reason for their being in motion in mass numbers to begin with, it would seem possible that reason has changed, or something else has occurred to create a change of plans. For now, we dare not read anything definitive into this without more data. “However, to project that line of thought into the future, I must go back in time and space, no pun intended. Years ago, many individuals involved in things celestial discovered that a small, little-known galaxy had collided with the Milky Way galaxy over a period of millions of years. Part of that interaction probably resulted later in a collision of a lesser body from this almost inconsequential galaxy with the planet Earth, creating our moon. This small body probably was influenced over the eons by constant yet variable gravitational influences by other bodies in motion, to the extent that it found itself flung far out from its distant point of entry. The odds of its colliding with Earth were astronomically low, yet apparently it happened, according to recent computer simulations. “Now as to our little problem, we have to go to the far reaches of our galaxy, where the major interaction between our galaxy and this minor galaxy is still occurring. We think now that some of the larger remnants of this intervening galaxy have entered other planetary systems and have or are likely to still collide with some planets. We have identified some of these systems in which such collisions are imminent within the next several thousand years, many significantly earlier than that. It is just possible that the alien spaceships currently approaching are coming from these areas of our galaxy and are in search of other planets likely to life, which would apply to our planet, no doubt. If their approach was continuing as previously detected, we would be

very concerned as to their intensions, which I cannot think would be very hospitable. “However, as mentioned, their approach speed has reduced significantly in the past two days, which coincides too closely to be coincidental with the unannounced departure of the alien ship from this base. The question is, what else were our alien friends up to during the time they were voyaging in space? They most likely ed at least one of their ships, probably the closest one, which means that the others now know where their damaged ship is located, assuming that they did not already know. “But, why the change in speed, and—and this is speculative at this time—why a possible change in direction as well? All of this indicates a probable change in intention. If they are now not heading in our direction, where are they heading and again, why the change of heart? The only possible answer, as I see it, is that our planet has proven unsuitable for their sought-after habitation. The other thing, therefore, that the spaceship and its crew must have been up to while on their secret mission was an environmental survey of our planet. Nothing else, at this point, makes any sense. Their distant, threatened civilization is on an immense mission, apparently to reestablish at least a large portion of their population on other suitable planets. They obviously cannot take the risk of doing so on planetary bodies that cannot their far into the future. Too much is at stake, so they send out an initial exploratory mission—or missions—to determine the suitability of probable planetary sites in order to minimize the overall risk. They have to make this work. “But they probably only have this one chance to succeed. The alien ship that was forced to land here due to a malfunction was one of those sent out. Despite the incapacity, it still has the capability of conducting such a study, so it suddenly leaves this base, conducts the necessary environmental check of our planet, and immediately forwards the data to the closest ship in real time, while it is still is conducting the analysis.” “Katrina,” Peter asked, “what can this mean to the alien ship here? If the rest of the alien population is now heading for some other portion of the galaxy, how can those here have any chance of ing them, if their stabilizer in still inoperative? There is no way that they can even hope to keep up, based on what Klingon has mentioned.”

“Good question, Peter,” Katrina quickly replied, indicating that he had raised the main issue for those on the base. “If all of this is true—and we will have to continue monitoring this situation over the next few days to confirm this one way or the other—then those aliens on the damaged ship currently in the hangar may be stranded, I would say. That again raises the question of why it returned, instead of striking out to the nearest alien ship, unless rendezvousing with that ship would delay it and the rest of the exploratory fleet from reaching their next probable destination in a timely fashion. In other words, this ship and its crew may be sacrificed for the benefit of the others. Karl, you have a question?” “Actually, something to add to what Peter has just brought up. Again, if these current trends hold up, and if these stranded aliens are without any recourse, then we should resurrect the idea of repairing their spaceship. There will be no other way for them to their own kind, wherever that may be, if we do not suggest something to them at the soonest possible moment. It will take a prodigious effort to accomplish such a thing, if it’s at all possible. They cannot stay on this planet; that is for sure. And the earlier mention of all of the benefits to be derived by the sharing of technologies. That raises a second issue; namely, that we need to know what their analysis of our planet was, if that is the reason for this sustained change in speed and direction of their fleets. After all, they may be on to something that we need to know. Perhaps we can work out some sort of a mutually beneficial deal. We help them repair their ship; they reveal to us what, if anything, they have discovered that may be threatening to us, if it was perceived as threatening to them.” “General Paige,” Paul spoke up, “I think that Karl may be on to something—an answer to the problem for those stranded aliens seeking another world in order to survive, in exchange for information on what they have discovered about this planet that frightens them. We do need to find out what it is, and if they, with their level of technology, can help us to overcome whatever it is. In any event, I think that it may be ironic if Peter gets back his plan to repair the alien ship, after the possibility that it was all going to be lost in an alien invasion.” “Let’s not rush into this too fast,” General Paige cautioned everyone. “For one thing, we still do not know the reason for what may only be a pause in their approach to this planet. If these aliens have changed their minds due to the supposed unsuitability of this planet, then what makes you think they can help us in any way? With their level of technology, don’t you think that they would continue on their previous course toward us, knowing that they would have to

take steps to improve Earth’s environment in order to enhance their chances to survive and that they would be able to accomplish that? Instead, if what Katrina has indicated is true, they are not. “Be that as it may,” he continued, “I think that Katrina’s insight in on target. We will know more tomorrow, perhaps. In the meantime, we had better put together a more comprehensive plan in order to incorporate all of these new possibilities, including another meeting with the alien ship’s leader as soon as we are more aware of the opportunities and options that present themselves. For the time being, we have to consider the following: one, the alien crew is stranded here until a repair of their spaceship can be accomplished; two, a repair is not possible, which leaves the alien crew stranded on Earth, period; three, the environmental data responsible for the alien ships apparently diverting toward another quadrant of the galaxy is such that it indicates an irreversible problem for life on this planet as we know it, for both them and us; and four, the problem is not irreversible, and the alien crew will do what they can to help resolve it, regardless of whether or not a repair of their ship can be accomplished. “There may be other combinations. Right now, however, I think that we all deserve a break to unwind and renew our thinking. This meeting is over until tomorrow at 0800 hours, at which time we will review the newest data to see where it wants to take us. While you are, I hope, relaxing, give some thought to what we have been discussing. Sleep on it, in other words. Dismissed!”

The Officers Club was quiet. Peter and Sara were the only people seated in the lounge. A room that was large enough to accommodate twenty to thirty people on the dance floor alone might have made them feel conspicuous, were it not for the fact that they did not notice the absence of anyone. They were simply content to be all by themselves, talking quietly about everything as it came to mind. The only action in the club was at the bar, looking out on what should have been the eighteenth hole, but it only displayed a desert panorama extending miles until it hit the Rocky Mountain chain. It was amazing to both how quickly they intertwined, both emotionally and intellectually. The conversation reached a peak of interest in one another within minutes after sitting down with their first drinks. An enlisted waiter with nothing else to do watched from a convenient distance, having quickly figured out after bringing their drink order that his required attention would be peripheral at best. “So, Sara, you really were worried about me when I was in Washington, huh?” Peter asked with strained nonchalance shortly after the waiter left them alone. He looked into her blue eyes and marveled at how beautiful she was, whether in uniform or in the rather tight-fitting dress she now wore that accentuated her trim figure. “Well, don’t let it go to your head, buster,” she replied with the same air, “After all, I was under orders to do that—my orders.” “Orders or not, Sara, I am very glad that you were worried about me, but you really didn’t need to be. You should know that I do not like Washington, but the short time that I was there went quickly, with the two meetings. I meant it, though, when I told you that the main thing that brought me back was that I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I guess that it took me some time, but then I realized that I was attracted to you from the very first time that I saw you walking toward me in the corridor at the Pentagon—when you dressed me down for inappropriately addressing you by rank.” “Believe me, I that day very well. I wanted to apologize to you at that moment, but there were others around, and I did not want to do it unless I could do it in private, and I was not sure when that would or could occur. But as you recall, Mr. Harrigan, I did that very thing the next day, when you intentionally

bumped into me in the hallway as you were leaving the general’s office, trying to get me alone, no doubt. You obviously could not resist the chance to be near me, and I certainly did not mind bumping into you, as I believe I mentioned at the time.” “And I graciously accepted your apology, if I recall correctly, and said that I would be more than happy to continue looking out for you, so that I might just bump into you again, which I have ever since. In any event, here is to a very wonderful relationship between a beautiful army officer and her handsome hallway pursuer.” “Cheers to that!” Sara quickly responded with an enthusiastic smile. And they clinked glasses. “Peter …” She paused and just looked at him. “What, Sara?” he replied, not wanting to continue talking too much, when just sitting there quietly, relaxing with her, was more than enough. “I’m still getting used to you—yes, missing you, being worried about you because I am missing you. It’s a great feeling, and I just don’t want to ruin it. You see, it’s been a long time since I had any such feelings, in no small part because of my army career and the demands associated with competing in what is still a man’s bailiwick. It’s too easy to become embroiled in career demands, particularly in the military, where constantly seeking higher rank is an integral part of the entire process, and to lose track of the more personal aspects of life that may very well be the important things that truly give your life meaning in the end, such as home and family.” “I understand, Sara,” Peter replied with a nod of his head. “Whatever all of this means to us, we cannot undo who and what we are at this point. What we have accomplished and who and what we are as a result are important. Yet we are attracted to one another for a reason that can only be felt, without fully understanding much about it at this stage. But then, that’s what makes it all the more appealing. It is, at the same time, both rational and irrational, which is what this whole thing called love is all about, I suppose. If we are falling in love—and maybe that remains to be seen—it’s still going to be a joyous thing. I know that it makes me feel good for the first time in a long time, and I like it!”

“Yes, so do I!” Sara replied with a bright smile intended only for the person sitting across from her. “I have been thinking about that walk in the desert with you ever since you proposed it when you were in Washington. This is something that cannot and should not be analyzed, Peter, only lived and enjoyed, which is going to be difficult right now, unfortunately. I don’t see a time in the near future when we can break away to be alone. Do you?” “No, not right now, anyway. However, we have to realize that we cannot keep our relationship secret for very long, Sara. Even though I did not say anything to Daryl directly when we were in Washington, he still figured out that something was up when I mentioned you as Sara rather than as Colonel Bradford. If he can pick up on something like that, so will the others, including General Paige. Are you comfortable with that?” “Yes. I thought about that after we talked. People have to realize that relationships begin under a variety of circumstances, even in the military— actually, particularly in the military, what with the constant reassignments that occur. Although this is an unusual set of circumstances, the outcome of which cannot be predicted, whatever is happening between us is still a normal thing, my dear, and we will just have to be patient, discreet, and … creative.” “Well, with that,” Peter replied with a somewhat conspiratorial look in his eyes, “shall I suggest a romantic hideaway, tucked into a remote yet scenic part of this desert landscape that will allow us exclusive access to discreet privacy, where we can engage in such creativity as you have suggested?” Sara looked at Peter with just a hint of quiet curiosity. She knew what he was suggesting but could not fathom just where they could actually be alone and undisturbed without going off base, which would mean an approved under the present circumstances, and that would take some time to arrange and would let the cat out of the bag. Yet he seemed to be suggesting a romantic tryst now. Suddenly, she was excited by the idea of being alone with him, if only for a few hours. Later, they would have time for a more lengthy getaway, but for now, they both knew what they wanted to happen. “What a generous and thoughtful suggestion, dear. You are a romantic, aren’t you? Are we talking about your plush penthouse or my extravagant condo? Either one, I think, will be suitable, since they are both remotely located away from the haunts of the masses.”

“My place, of course, darling,” Peter eagerly replied. “I have the champagne chilling, as we speak.” Peter quickly paid the tab, and they discreetly walked out of the Officers Club to the military vehicles that both Lt. Colonel Bradford and Peter had the use of while assigned to the base. Peter led the way, while Sara followed several car lengths behind. On the one hand, both knew that they were taking the chance that they would observed; on the other, they knew that the chance was remote, at least for the evening, and they were content either way. They wanted this relationship to be consummated in all ways, for they realized that they deserved the chance to be in love. Within a few minutes, they had driven to the remote part of the base that housed the officers’ quarters for the single men and women personnel. Previously, this area would have been teeming with dozens of officers, either going on or coming off duty, as well as relaxing as best they could in such a remote location. Previously, all but a very few would have been men. At that time, the female officers occupied a separate building sequestered away from the male officers’ quarters. All of that was now inconsequential; very few were billeted here for the time being, and they were scattered throughout the buildings and rooms that were still habitable, affording everyone a degree of privacy that would not have been possible in earlier days. When they walked into Peter’s room, Chance immediately rose up, tail wagging. When he saw his master, he trotted over and put his nose against Peter’s leg. He was immediately rewarded with a scratch behind the ears and under his chin. “Sara, meet my very good friend, Chance. Chance, my boy, this is another very good friend of mine, Sara.” Chance approached Sara with tongue and tail quickly moving. When he was directly in front of her, he sat down and lifted his right paw. Sara reached out and shook Chance’s paw. “Very nice to meet you, Chance. I believe that I’ve heard about you. My, you certainly are a big German shepherd, aren’t you? Peter, why didn’t you tell me that you brought Chance here? And how did you convince General Paige to allow him on base?” “He’s here with me for the same reason that you are with me now—because

where I am staying while on base is remote from the normal base activity. I have room to walk and feed him, which I do in the morning and when I finally get back here at night. In fact, I have to do that now. How about ing us? Then I’ll tie him up outside for an hour or so, which I generally do so that he can get a bit more fresh air before we bunk down for the night. Then it will give us time to be ‘creative.’” “Again, you so know how to treat a girl, don’t you! I cannot think of something more romantic than to take a walk in the peace and quiet of the desert night while holding your hand and tossing Chance a stick or two.” “So you like animals, then? I can’t say that it’s a requirement, by any means, but it will make me love you more. And I can tell already that Chance has taken a shine to you, Sara.” “Yes, I love animals. Even while moving around as a military brat, we always had pets, whether dogs, cats, fish, or birds. We seemed to have them all and occasionally at the same time. It made for a very chaotic household much of the time. So, come on, lover boy,” she said, while petting Chance behind the ears, “time’s a-wasting! You, too, Peter.” “Yes, ma’am. If I behave myself, can I get petted behind my ears?” “Sure, you can, but you may like it more when I pet you somewhere else, don’t you think?” “Lady,” Peter said, after giving Sara a bear hug and ionate kiss, “I think that this is going to be the start of a very close relationship.”

Chapter 24

Saturday morning, June 26

B oth cell phones went off within seconds of one another at 5:30 a.m., causing both Peter and Sara to jump awake and instantly try to locate them. They answered them within seconds of one another, causing the two junior officers calling from General Paige’s office to hear both sides of the two conversations simultaneously. When the confusion was overcome, and the messages that the 0800 meeting in the headquarters building would now begin at 0700 hours, the officers hung up and immediately looked at one another with raised eyebrows and knowing grins. Peter and Sara sat on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to get fully awake. In the meantime, they both looked at one another and started laughing. “Well,” Peter said, “so much for living in a remote area of the base as an assurance of keeping our relationship secret.” “You’ve got that right,” Sara replied, still trying to catch her breath from being startled awake. “Told you that I should have left earlier to go back to my place. Then again,” she said, as she snuggled her naked body up against Peter’s, “we wouldn’t have had those second and third opportunities to be ‘creative.’” “And,” Peter added, “we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to definitely fall in love with one another and not just in those moments of creativity that you mentioned. Although I do have to give you high marks in that category.” Neither one had noticed Chance, who had jumped onto the bed as they had been awakened by the phone calls. He now crawled between them, forcing them apart, which lead to his being petted and scratched repeatedly. “Okay, now I definitely have to go!” Sara said, starting to rise from the bed. “I don’t think that we have to pretend anything at this point, dearest. By the time

we arrive for this meeting, whatever it may be about, everyone on the base will probably know , although not about the details, thank God! But I don’t care. I’ve never been happier, Peter. I do love you and am ecstatic that you are in love with me. Someday, maybe we will be able to understand how this all came about. Now, kiss me again,” she said as she finished with her clothes, “just to make certain that this is not a dream, although looking at your fantastic body will do nicely as well.”

Sara’s concern that everyone would know about her and Peter’s relationship was certainly not apparent when she and Peter arrived for the 0700 hours meeting about ten minutes apart. Everyone was in place, and General Paige was going over some printouts and sipping on coffee. The quiet of the room belied the supposed urgency that the earlier phone calls had stipulated. Perhaps the pressure of events has somehow ebbed, Peter thought, over the past hour or so. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” the general started at exactly 0700 hours. “Things have been evolving rapidly since about midnight, our time. It is now more than apparent, based on the latest telemetry data from both Telescope and Stingray, that the remaining alien craft are indeed proceeding away from our galaxy at increasing speed. This certainly bodes well for planet Earth, except for the explanation as to why. We, of course, still have the speculation that this is due to the findings from what we suspect was an analysis of the suitability of our planet to sustain their civilization on our planet’s surface. “That analysis was undoubtedly conducted by the alien craft that remains in the hangar at this base, along with its crew . I called this meeting to get your input as to how to proceed with the situation. We are to meet with the spaceship’s crew in two hours, sooner if we desire, for the crew and its commander are suddenly anxious to discuss their fate with us lower-level humans. The ship’s commander sent a message earlier today, at 0200 hours to be exact, conveying some urgency as to their disposition. My assumption is that they will be requesting our permission to leave the planet, perhaps to follow those ships that are en route to another quadrant of the galaxy. “That does not make a lot of sense, because those alien ships are already proceeding at an interstellar speed that the disabled ship here could not hope to meet. Right now, they are making almost half light speed, which means that any attempt to actually follow them would prove suicidal. These aliens are being left behind—stranded, sacrificed—for the common good. My suggestion, which I believe has already been mentioned, is to offer them the opportunity to effect a repair of their ship in the timeliest way. That may—I repeat, may—give them some chance of eventually meeting up with their own kind. Questions? Statements? Anyone?” The pause was brief. Everyone suddenly sat straight in their chairs, giving a

strong indication that a vigorous give-and-take might be pending. “Katrina, it appears that you responded first.” “Thank you, General. My thoughts are this: if the alien crew cannot be convinced on a repair, then we have no choice but to let them depart. While they were undoubtedly on a mission leading to an inevitable link up with their forces, we really do not have enough direct evidence of that, only circumstantial at this point. Besides, any effort to continue to hold them would only prove problematic for us, both in the short and long term. What could we really end up doing to them or with them? “I would argue that it might only prove providential for us in of our longterm interests in space to be cooperative with them, certainly if they want to depart. We now know that there is life—and very intelligent life—out there, and we will continue to encounter that life well into the future. Better to conduct ourselves in a humane manner toward them than to set a precedent for only future confrontation and conflict.” “And what if they agree on a repair?” asked General Atkins. “Then we should approach that as a solution exactly for the same reason, which would be a generous offer of assistance for everyone’s benefit. Exactly what Peter was proposing earlier. That seems years ago now, before the threat of an encounter. Again, I really don’t think that we have much choice either way.” “Paul?” General Paige said, nodding in his direction. “I have to agree with Katrina. It appears we have lucked out, according to the latest data. Either way, whether allowing them to quietly depart or becoming involved in what will be a lengthy and problematic repair, we will end up doing the right thing for the right reason. Both will be to our credit, and hopefully the aliens will appreciate that.” “I agree, General,” Lt. Colonel Bradford interjected. “We have already put in motion much of what would be necessary for a repair, although it probably will take some time to get all of our interested allies on board again, as well as the president and Congress. Actually, we should make certain that all will be agreeable to a repair before we promise such a thing to the ship’s commander and not be able to deliver.”

“Karl,” the general asked, “what do you think your people will say about resurrecting the repair once again?” “Well, part of me wants to say no problem, but you know how temperamental we Europeans can be, particularly when it comes to politics, the economy, and wine. When I initially broached the topic to my colleagues at the ESA a short time ago, they were outwardly enthusiastic. They did not seem to think that sharing the financial load would be much of a problem, but that was before the threat of invasion and worse. They may very well want to hold a grudge against these cosmic creatures that they have never met. All I can do at this stage is put out the same feelers and see what the initial response is.” “Would you see to that right away and let us know?” the general quickly responded. “Colonel Bradford is right. We have to make certain that the necessary ducks are lined up and quickly, before we can proceed in that direction. In the meantime, we will have to diplomatically approach the alien ship’s commander about what it is intending at this point. Any other comments? Peter?” “Have our forces on high alert been instructed to stand down? How certain are we that the alien spaceships are heading away from Earth as opposed to merely making a feint in that direction before once again approaching and threatening our planet?” “Good question, Peter,” General Paige quickly responded. “General Atkins, you are Central Command’s Intelligence Officer for Special Operations. Where do our forces—those alerted for the possibility of invasion—stand at this moment?” This was a question that General Paige could have answered as the chairman of the t Chiefs of Staff, but he rightfully deferred to the one person tasked directly with assuring that the necessary forces were alerted for whatever action was necessary to assure the protection of the country. “Peter, to answer your question,” General Atkins began, “it is a little too early to begin calling back all of the military forces that were alerted and put in action in preparation for a pending attack. It took forty-eight hours to get then alerted and in motion. It is prudent, at this time, to keep most of them on alert until the alien ships are no longer so strongly presented on Telescope’s radar. Once they are outside that range, should they suddenly reappear, we would have enough time

to redeploy those forces to try to beat back a second approach. Until then, we will just have to keep them in place.” “Thank you, General,” Peter acknowledged. “I want to thank everyone here for all of your efforts to date in dealing with this situation, which was brought about, at least in part, by my encounter in the desert. It seems like I have been involved in this for years, not just days or weeks. Hopefully, we can bring this to a good conclusion, even if it takes another year or so, so that we can all get on with our lives.” As Peter said that, he quickly glanced in Sara’s direction as discreetly as possible, catching her eye and bringing a smile to her face. All of that did not go unnoticed to several of the group sitting around the table; namely Paul and Daryl. They individually decided not to indicate their suspicion of a relationship between Peter and Sara. Also mulling over what appeared to be something going on that had not gone unnoticed, actually, over the past few days, was General Paige, who thought to himself that it was about time for two people whom he greatly ired to find one another in the midst of possible disaster. It often happened under such circumstances. The general adjourned the meeting at 0900 hours local, leaving the to take care of other necessary things until the meeting with Klingon in the hangar area at 1000 hours.

Peter and Sara walked over to the Officers’ Mess to grab something to eat, not having taken any normal nourishment since last night sometime. They walked over to a table by a window, carrying plates covered with eggs, bacon, and pancakes, accompanied by steaming cups of coffee that only the military could brew. “I didn’t think that I was going to last in that meeting another minute before ing out from malnutrition,” Peter itted, digging into everything on his plate concurrently. “I guess that I’m not accustomed to expending quite that much energy as I experienced last night, my dear.” “Are you saying that you wished that you hadn’t?” Sara replied, glancing at Peter with an unmistakable look of love and longing, coupled with a teasing smile. “Not at all. Just the opposite. In fact, if you recall, I was the one who proposed our little encounter in the plush surroundings of a military barracks.” “I do, sweetheart. And as you recall, I was the one who graciously accepted your kind and sexually-motivated invitation. You know that you couldn’t wait to get me in bed, you perverted old man. That brings up the operative question—how old are you? I was going to ask last night but never got the chance. I’m not cavorting around with a much older man, am I? I’ve often wondered what that would be like.” “The question goes both ways, doesn’t it? Okay, since you are obviously obsessed with my age, probably wondering if I can keep up with you in the years ahead, I will be forty-five on my next birthday, which will be in March of next year. And you, beautiful?” “Don’t you know that it’s not polite to ask a lady her age? In fact, it is particularly dangerous to ask a lady in uniform. But I can see that you are worried about robbing the cradle, which can get you in a heap of trouble, you know. So, my birthday is coming up in October, and I will be thirty-seven. There, I’ve said it!” “Really?” he responded with feigned skepticism. “Can a man really trust a woman to tell her actual age? In any event, you are beautiful, Sara, and always

will be, regardless of age. You were obviously born with natural beauty. The first time that I saw you, as I mentioned the other day, I was blown away. If I hadn’t been so nervous about my first meeting with the general, I probably would have made a fool of myself by asking you out right then. I was really surprised and pleased when you called later that day, telling me about that second meeting, because I hoped that I would get a chance to see you again. Did you know that?” “No, but it sure makes a girl feel good to know that a man she found unbelievably attractive was attracted to her. It makes me thankful for you in my life but also apprehensive. I am out of practice when it comes to making a relationship work, so I really do not want to ruin this for us by making some stupid mistakes. Do you understand that, Peter?” “Yes, absolutely, Sara. You and I think alike on this. We both want the same thing, and it’s not recapturing what we may have had once. It is creating something new just for us, for you and me, that will make us happy and will last our lifetimes—something that is worth working hard for and protecting. We’re both starting on this relationship out of practice, as you so correctly put it. But if we start out by always putting the other person first in our hearts, and we work to make ourselves better each day, we will have a happy life, and that’s what it is all about, you know.” “My God, man, you are the genuine thing, aren’t you?” Sara quietly responded, tears silently flowing down her cheeks and onto her near-empty plate. “Where have you been all these years, sweetheart?” “It’s simple, Sara … looking for you.”

Chapter 25

Saturday, June 26

The of General Paige’s group, along with some of the technicians who had been at the inspection, met within minutes of one another in front of the open hangar doors as 1000 hours approached. The alien spaceship loomed large within; only part of its leading edge poked out, catching some of the sun that rose hot and boiling over the desert landscape, scorching it mercilessly as it had for thousands of years. Life’s lessons came at a high price for those creatures with the tenacity to hold on, for little was offered up without a continuing contest for daily survival. In contrast, the human life-forms generally did not possess the ability for survival in this milieu. They could not crawl under rocks, seeking whatever moisture lay hidden from the utterly dry and vengeful air. They could not naturally change their shape or color, adapting and hiding from the unrelenting onslaught of voracious critters with painful hunger. The only way for possible survival of the human species in conditions such as this throughout the millennia was continuous technological evolution, relying on their unique brain power to accomplish what God and nature alone could not or would not guarantee. As the group advanced into the hangar space, the differences in levels of technology between the two civilizations became shockingly apparent once again. While it had only been a matter of days since the inspection of the damage to the spaceship before it had been moved here, some had already forgotten much about the nature of the ship and the technology that it held. Some, perhaps, were starting to recall the training scenario in which they had been telepathically transported, or so it seemed, into an imaginary section of the ship that mimicked the ship’s compartment that contained the real damaged stabilizer device; others were still mentally and emotionally dealing with the vast armada of alien ships that had come so close to invading the planet and now were streaking away at near light speed.

Peter was reliving the moment in the desert when he realized that a hill in the distance had suddenly become an alien ship, rendered invisible through the manipulation of light waves to fool the brain into thinking that something was when it really was not. These alien life-forms had reached the point where they could successfully exist and thrive in the desert of outer space, an environment many times more inhospitable than the one in which this remote base was located. A section of the ship’s undercarriage silently dropped down, revealing Klingon and the ship’s second in command descending to the floor of the hangar. Once there, they walked toward the approaching humans. They had observed the group as they had gathered in front of the hangar and decided that the meeting would best be held outside the ship, if possible. At this point, the utmost discretion was advisable, until the intentions of the humans could be discerned. “Commander,” General Paige began, “good morning to you and your crew. The time has come to speak the truth and to come to a point of agreement as to just what must be accomplished to resolve this unique situation in which we find ourselves, perhaps through no fault of our own. We can approach this situation in several ways, but first, we must come to a complete understanding as to where we are and what possibilities present themselves that can assist in a workable solution for all. Is there some place or some format for the meeting that would better facilitate this process for you?” After a short silence, the now familiar clicking sound began, as Klingon addressed the humans standing much too close to its ship. “General Paige, I believe that this represents an agreeable place for this meeting. Pressing matters need to be discussed and agreed to, if that is possible. It is probable that we are both in possession of the same relevant information, which should help facilitate a suitable resolution, both to your dilemma and ours.” “Those are my thoughts, exactly, Commander,” General Paige responded eagerly. “I believe that we can cooperate on a mutually beneficial basis. I do not think that it would be much of an understatement to say that your appraisal of us as a species is less than spectacular. We certainly do not have anywhere near your level of knowledge and understanding of the universe, nor your level of technological achievement. However, we are achievers and will continue to advance in our abilities to cope with whatever is handed to us. For the moment,

let’s proceed to the tables and chairs that have just been set up, so that we may be a bit more comfortable. There are some fans blowing conditioned air that will help disperse the building heat of the morning for a while. If we have to, we can adjourn to one of the interior offices that are comfortably air conditioned. I must confess that I do not know if you generally stand or sit, as we do.” “Please, General, you may sit. My command assistant and I will remain upright.” “All right. As I was saying, we do not lack in sophistication. For instance, we have been able to track your ships while they were approaching our solar system and planet from quite a distance. We knew that you had landed in our western desert area many days ago, although not the specific coordinates after you engaged what we suspected was a cloaking-type device. In order to have avoided any detection at all, you probably should have had it constantly activated all along, although perhaps it has a draining effect on the operation of other onboard systems. In any event, we have known for several days that your approaching ships have diverted away from this area and are proceeding at ever-increasing speed to some outward quadrants of a galaxy that we will have to learn to share. This apparently leaves you and your crew stranded on our planet—a planet, by the way, that you and your threatened civilization were planning to take away from us. Is that not what you were intending to do?” It was a moment that had to arrive, if anything meaningful was to be accomplished within a reasonable time frame. So much had to be shared and discussed; a level of understanding and cooperation had to be established. That could only be done through a common level of trust. “Yes, General, it was. I can only surmise that your civilization would be tempted to do the same thing if it meant your survival. Perhaps survival is the one trait that does link all life-forms. Would your civilization deny your survival under such conditions? You have not done it so far, which attests to your success at surviving on this planet. Why would you think that a civilization from outside your solar system would be any different? In defense of our position, we had no choice. As you mentioned, we are still in somewhat of a searching mode.” “I cannot answer that question, Commander,” General Paige replied. “However, I do agree with your statement about the element of survival being common across the spectrum of life. Perhaps that means that we would do exactly what your civilization is doing; I really do not know. What I do know is that if you

and your crew are to stand a chance of surviving, we have to commence in that direction now, without delay. I am talking about a repair to your ship, if that is possible. Otherwise, you can depart anytime with your spaceship in the condition that it is in, which is a suicide mission, if I understand what I have been told. “One thing is certain: you cannot stay here indefinitely. Your place is with your own people, if that term can have any application to your civilization’s . This planet is our planet, which brings up a possible compromise that may serve us both. I want you to tell us what you discovered when you conducted your survey or analysis of our planet the other day, after you suddenly departed. You informed your on board all of those ships that we did not deserve to be invaded and killed off. What did you find?” Klingon and its command assistant briefly glanced at each other. Afterwards, those sitting at the tables could not agree if there had been a slight nod of assent from the assistant’s head before the ship’s commander began to speak. Only later, after learning more about the AKAR Council and the organization of its hip, would General Paige and his group realize that the command assistant was a direct representative of the Council and, as such, had the final decision-making power on the alien vessel in matters directly relating to Council laws and directives. “General Paige, your planet is dying,” Klingon said. “At the current pace, it will not be able to sustain viable life for more than another three hundred of your years, perhaps less. By then, it will be in another cycle of extreme heating, followed by probable devastating cooling millennia later. This will be precipitated in part by a projected reversal of your planet’s magnetic field but mostly accelerated by a rapidly declining ability of the planet to naturally and continually cleanse itself. This, in turn, is due to a deterioration of its ecological systems because of the irreversible buildup of human-generated pollution, particularly since what you refer to as your Industrial Age, with the subsequent increase in mass production over time, coupled with a massive generation of toxic waste, all to meet the ever-growing demand of exploding populations. In other words, you have failed to exercise any discipline over your wasteful tendencies.” “And you say that all of this is irreversible?” Katrina Douglas spoke up. “How can you say that? There are so many variables involved. Three hundred years is

a long time from now to go about declaring an end to human civilization. That’s not giving us any chance to recognize our mistakes and correct them before it’s too late, don’t you think?” “Katrina Douglas,” the commander began, with a patience not normally reserved for lesser beings, “you overestimate the ability of your kind to be able to quickly react to events that will be, for you, disastrously overwhelming. You have already had ample time to recognize the reality of the situation and act in time to prevent or at least delay the inevitable, but you have not done this. What will occur is both natural and accelerated by human activity. As you should realize, your planet has experienced life-altering and life-extinguishing events multiple times over the course of its existence. You should also understand that with the probability of life elsewhere in the galaxy and universe, however improbable, these types of occurrences have destroyed life elsewhere in a good many instances. The universe is a mechanism that both creates and destroys life. It continuously recycles the base elements through the life and death throes of its stars, which are generators of those base elements. We all are fortunate to be a part of that life-generating cycle and conscious of our existence, however short. Again, there are simply forces at play that are beyond our capacity to control, even for a civilization such as mine. Our demise, however, is not due to oversight on our part but rather to the quite natural universal forces that I have discussed; namely, the collision of planetary bodies. Fortunately for us, we had already developed the abilities to rescue a significant portion of our . You have not.” “But,” General Paige spoke up, “are you saying that there is nothing that you can contribute that would give us insight as to how to prevent or delay this outcome? I cannot believe that there is absolutely nothing that can be done over a period of several hundreds of years to assure the continuance of life on this planet. Are you saying that?” “General, I did not say that there will never again be life on this planet, once these cycles abate. The unfortunate thing is that most life that currently exists will cease to exist. What may remain will be those primitive life-forms that have evolved over time to exist in the harsh conditions of heat and cold that will remain for thousands of years. You human life-forms have not so adapted and so will die off.” The meeting that was to have resulted in a resolution to the aliens’ dilemma had

suddenly produced a result not just unexpected but horrible for the humans in every aspect. The meeting that General Paige started out controlling was now out of control, if the words that Klingon had just spoken were true. For now, no one sitting at the tables in the hangar was remotely capable of believing such an outcome. The silence immediately around the group was deafening. Klingon and its command assistant were forced to stand quietly, awaiting a response from the humans. None came. “It is understandable that this revelation is a shattering one,” Klingon said slowly. “There may be a remote possibility to alter somewhat the projected outcome, although with no guarantee. I realize that you were going to offer the chance to repair my ship in return for assistance in controlling the deterioration of your planet. So far, our analysis has indicated that the beginning of those cycles that I mentioned is irreversible over time. What I did not mention was that the survey data has not been completely processed, but enough for both the exploratory and Colony ships to divert to areas that show more promise. “I propose what we all know is the only possible solution: my crew will complete the full analysis of the survey data. Hopefully, there will be something there to suggest another option. In the meantime, we should proceed with the ship’s repair. In the process, we will share our technology with you. That, along with the finalized report on your planet’s condition, will give us something to work with. In the end, you may have to make some very painful and costly decisions, if you are to stand any chance of surviving on this planet. Who knows? You may even have to strike out in search of another planet in the future yourselves in order to assure that some of you may survive. For you, that may take a burst of evolution and advancement beyond your current capacities, but at least you will have time to explore new possibilities.” Suddenly, there was a minimal relaxing of the terrible tension that had gripped the human group just minutes ago. Generals Paige and Atkins looked around the tables with some semblance of a positive reaction to what this Klingon character had just proposed. In reality, they were in the same position as where they had started out. They would repair the alien ship. In the meantime, there would be a sharing of technology and an advancement of mankind’s ability to explore and achieve. What Klingon had said about the probable outcome of cosmic events that could destroy life on the planet was just that—a prediction. It was up to them to attack the situation aggressively, to basically spit in the face of fate and try to take command of the future. There was no other choice and never had

been. It was decided to officially begin this long and uncertain process starting tomorrow morning. Each side was to come up with some basic ideas and objectives that would lend themselves to the beginning of the development of a strategic outline of how to proceed. Tomorrow’s meeting was again scheduled for 1000 hours.

As the others were slowly walking out of the hangar after the meeting, Peter noticed Klingon looking at him from near the elevator hatch of the spaceship. Without pausing to consider what to do, he and Sara, who had been standing beside him, walked toward the ship’s commander and its command assistant. As they neared, Klingon voiced something unintelligible to the assistant, and that alien stepped onto the elevator and rose into the ship’s belly. Peter had the feeling that Klingon had intentionally paused before entering the ship to capture his attention. Not willing to let the moment , he had decided on another personal encounter. “It is good to see you again,” the alien spoke into the translator to Peter, while it watched Sara. “You are to be regarded highly for accomplishing what you set out to do. I did not have a high degree of confidence that you would be successful.” “Nor did I,” Peter responded with a combination of some hesitation and more anger. “I find that I was operating on a false premises all along. Apparently, my sincerity was undermined by what appears to be your duplicity, although I guess that it is all explained away by your merely trying to aid your civilization’s survival.” “And what would your civilization have done, if the tables had been turned,” Klingon countered with force and conviction, “and it was you who had the chance to do the very same thing to assure the survival of the human race, at the possible expense of other life-forms, which certainly has occurred in your history? As I was trying to explain, there are very few perfect situations and therefore few perfect decisions that can be made, given the reality of the constant threat to life throughout the universe. We can only operate within the realistic parameters that we are given.” Klingon paused and intentionally turned to face Sara. “I have not noticed you before,” it said. “You are attired similarly to the one known as General Paige. Are you also a general? You appear to be like the one known as Katrina. Are you a Katrina as well?” “No, I am not a general,” Sara answered. “My position or title is that of lt. colonel in our military. My first name is Sara. The other woman’s first name is Katrina. She works in our space program.”

“I think that you and I may have talked earlier about how we humans might be named, when your ship was still out in the desert before being moved to this base,” explained Peter. “My first name is Peter, by the way.” “Yes, I your saying something about that earlier. I was curious about you, Sara, and you, too, Peter, because I sensed the cosmic connection between you, like the minute force that binds the elements together. in my civilization experience it just prior to becoming one unit. Are you becoming one unit?” he asked, looking again at Sara and then at Peter. “I am trying to understand exactly what you may mean by that,” she slowly replied. “If what you mean is, are Peter and I a couple. then, yes, we are. We refer to that as ‘falling in love,’ and I guess that means that we are becoming ‘one unit.’ We met during this situation and fell in love.” “Very good!” the commander exclaimed with something close to excitement. “You see, Peter, something good has come out of this, despite the circumstances. We have helped you become one unit.” “You mentioned that you sensed a cosmic connection,” Sara pressed. “What did you mean by that? How can you sense something like that, particularly when you yourself said that you had never noticed me before?” “To answer that means that I have to reveal something that I have kept to myself all this time,” Klingon said. “My kind—the AKARs, that is—have the ability to sense the mental signals of others. I guess that you would say that we can hear what you are feeling but not always what you would be thinking. To arrive at that, we would deduce from the stronger feelings you are generating what many of your actual thoughts might be. There are, however, those times when we can receive your thought patterns directly, as well, when the feelings are particularly intense. “When I used the term cosmic connection, that was the best interpretation of how I could explain this sense that we have of being able to internalizing the essence of the life power of the universe. It is a matter of synchronizing the frequencies of the mind with those given off by the universe. It produces a distinctive, steady tone when fully synchronized. I sensed the cosmic connection between the two of you, because your feelings for one another are remarkably intense.”

“I guess that means that we had better mind what we both feel and think in your presence, then,” Sara replied with some intensity. “As I mentioned, the thought patterns and degree of feeling have to be quite strong and concentrated. I could sense the attraction that you have for one another only because it was presenting itself so strongly. That, I would think, is a good thing. However, such a strong, positive connection between the two of you would mean that I could probably deduce what you would be thinking whenever both of you were near me.” “One thing occurred to me,” Peter interjected, “while you were presenting the defense of your actions at the meeting. Speaking of emitting strong sensations, I got the impression that when you were trying to explain the nature and reason for the horrible threat to this planet and its life-forms within the next few centuries, you were holding something back. You had nothing but bad news for the future of the planet, yet you held out some hope that the final interpretation of your survey results might present some hope for the future. It was almost as if you knew that the situation was not quite as serious as what you had predicted. Which is it, exactly?” Klingon looked at them for what seemed to be the longest time, although not one facial muscle so much as twitched as it determined how to answer Peter’s question. Finally, there was a noticeable shift in the eyes. “In the final moments, the decision came down to a choice between your planet, which was closest for the colony ships already en route to this solar system, or two other distinct possibilities, located close to one another but at a much greater distance. If suitable, they would possibly allow most our entire civilization to live nearer on the two planets, rather than have part on this planet and the rest scattered elsewhere. Those planets were also closer for the final colony ships that have yet to leave our threatened planet. At about the time my ship was conducting its survey of your planet, a similar but briefer survey of the two planets found them to be more suitable in all categories, and therefore, the choice became obvious. “My orders were to return to your planet and try to arrange for what would be a repair of my ship. After that, I was to proceed at the highest possible speed to the chosen planets. If my ship could not be completely repaired, I was to depart and proceed as best as possible in the direction of those planets. Hopefully, I could still rendezvous with one of the exploratory ships, although that would be nearly impossible. I was not to say a thing of the future peril which your planet faced,

for fear that it might jeopardize either a repair or an immediate departure. At this morning’s meeting, I found that I could not do that, even though I find your civilization to be both perplexing and frustrating. “Keep in mind that your planet is definitely in the greatest danger but not necessarily in an impossible situation. I must confess that when I submitted my initial report, I intentionally stressed the most negative aspects of the situation here, before I knew anything about the results of the assessment of the other two planets. In the end, I suppose that I wanted the approaching ships to by your planet, and not just because of the disappointing survey results that I had revealed. Perhaps you can understand why. I am still trying to do so myself. “If your planet is to survive, you will need the technological assistance that we can provide. Even then, it will be a close call, I assure you. As things stand now, if the repair is successful, and we successfully assist you in effecting a strategic change in your human tendencies, we will depart soon after it is completed. If the repair cannot be accomplished, then we will have another decision to make. We can depart with the damaged stabilizer and take our chances, again once we have helped you correct the many destructive mistakes that your all-too-human nature has allowed to occur. Or, despite what your General Paige mentioned at the meeting, we can decide to remain here on your planet. Whatever decisions we make will entail a lot of uncertainty, but keep in mind that time catches up with those who hesitate, so all concerned will have to maintain the appropriate level of concentration and accomplishment.” Peter and Sara were both dumbfounded by the total revelations by this alien intruder to the planet. It seemed impossible to grasp all the swirling complexities that completely enveloped them like a hurricane and would not subside anytime soon. After what seemed like the age of many minutes, Sara looked at Peter, perhaps to assure her of the anchor to reality their relationship represented, and then faced Klingon. “What is your name, if I may ask?” It was the only thing she could think of at that moment. “My Council name will sound to you like ‘Tubrang Gilf.’ I cannot reveal it to you any other way. It is the way to address me, rather than the ‘Klingon’ name that I suspect you have been using, which I do not understand.”

“Well, Mr. Tubrang Gilf,” Sara responded as she glanced at Peter, “it looks like this is going to be the start of a very close and, hopefully, successful relationship.” Peter had to smile and shake his head as she repeated much the same thing that he had said to her just last night. “I must apologize for the Klingon name that has been used, Tubrang Gilf. It came from me and even I do not fully understand why.” Before ending the conversation and entering its ship, Tubrang Gilf said to them very simply, “Without further explanation, I suggest that we keep what we have discussed to ourselves, since much of what we have said may only serve to complicate matters further. We have a lot to accomplish in a fairly short period and need to cooperate based on what we have at stake, which is all about survival.”

Chapter 26

Saturday, June 26

P eter and Sara were sitting in the Officers’ Mess, trying to convince themselves that they were really hungry enough to eat something after the emotional afterthe-meeting encounter with the commander of the alien ship. For Peter, it was an affirmation of what he had been trying to achieve with a repair of the ship, despite the now-ended threat from the invasion of Earth. For Sara, it was an affirmation of everything that she hoped for when it came to a future that would possibly include both a distinguished career in the military and a family with this man who had so miraculously appeared in her life. For both, it was very simply an affirmation of hope amid a chaotic universe. Just as they were about to leave and go to Peter’s room in the remote barracks, his cell phone rang. Looking at the caller readout, he let out a slow moan. “Who’s that, Peter?” Sara inquired. “It’s Charley Whitmore. You know, my journalist ‘friend.’ I’m going to answer this, even though it probably means more trouble in the midst of the storm.” “Why don’t you just let it go to voicemail and call him back later?” “No, I think it’s best to answer it,” Peter insisted, holding up a hand to stop Sara from protesting further. “I may be able to get this issue off our back right now.” “Hello, Charley,” Peter said, “how is Washington’s favorite pain-in-the-butt journalist? Any new revelations from your ‘Deep Throat’ source?” “Well, Peter, I it things really dried up for me after our meeting several days ago. It seems that your friends really bent over backwards to convince my usual sources to suddenly develop amnesia. Others seemed to have picked that time to leave Washington to visit sick relatives.”

“Charley, I don’t know what to say. Are you calling to say that you are backing away from the story because of a lack of further information? I take it that you haven’t heard back from your original mysterious source.” “No, Peter, nothing from Deep Throat. What a shame. But something did happen last night. I was talking to a journalist friend of mine at the Speak Easy, a new bar near the Capitol building that’s the in place to drown one’s political sorrows, which means it was really packed. Anyway, I was describing the situation to him in very general , trying not to reveal any specific details about the story. You know, just talking about how the characters line up, top to bottom, keeping in mind what the source said about going to the top. Anyway, after doing my best to set the stage without whining too much, this friend said something that I should have thought about from the very beginning, from the time that I first talked to you. I mean, I must be getting old, or maybe this city has sucked so much brain matter out of me that I’m suffering from advanced-stage dementia and Alzheimer’s concurrently.” “What did he say, Charley?” Peter interrupted. Even Sara, who was listening in on the call, was rolling her eyes, waiting for the man to get to the point. “Peter, he said that it sounded to him as if the source had to be in or close to your group. Think of it, Peter. At the very beginning of this story, the only ones who were privy to all of the developing details had to be those close to you, particularly if, as I suspected, you were isolated at some secret base out in the desert. That isolation was meant to keep the information controlled in that one spot, to keep the story from getting out to the press and to the public. Here, all along, I was thinking that my mysterious source had to be in Washington. Well, that’s because all secrets reside in Washington, right? The White House, the Pentagon, the CIA, FBI, for God’s sake! DIA, NSA—every acronym the human mind can conjure up. But no, Peter! Out there, where ever there is, is where my story is and where my source is. Don’t you think?” Peter had thought that Charley was just ranting and raving, blowing off the steam that builds with unresolved frustration and desperation. But the more he carried on, the more all of the bits and pieces of his tirade slowly came together. It seemed inconceivable, to the point of not even considering it, that this threat of the story breaking could have its roots out here in no-man’s-land. But it made perfect sense. Even Peter had assumed that Charley’s source with the disguised voice had been speaking from one of the many bastions of secrecy entombed in

Washington. “Charley, I will concede the possibility that this source, which could still conceivably decide to reveal additional details to you, could be from outside Washington and maybe even in this remote base somewhere. But keep in mind that many if not most of the details about this story have been shared by now with all of those Washington acronyms that you mentioned and therefore could have emanated from where you are. So the source could still be hiding in Washington. At this time, I cannot comment one way or the other on your speculation, but I will do what I can to pursue this, because it’s important to know whether or not it’s true, mainly because there could be issues related to overall national security here. I have to go, Charley. Let me know if anything else surfaces, and I will get back to you as soon as possible.” “Peter, what you said about my getting exclusive access to this story at some time. I am a journalist, although lately it’s been hard to convince myself of that.” “Gotta go now, Charley,” Peter said emphatically. “I’ll get back to you.” With that, Peter broke the connection. Putting down his cell phone, he looked over at Sara, who was sitting close by his side. “What do you think, dear?” Peter asked her. “I think that this could be a real problem, Peter, particularly now that we are close to actually beginning the repair on the alien spaceship. If what Charley said is true about the leak or source being within our group or somewhere on this base, any further release of what is top secret information could jeopardize everything. If the word leaked out as to what we are trying to accomplish here, this whole area would be overrun with journalists, souvenir seekers, end-of-theworld weirdoes—after a while, it would turn into a small city, and there would be absolutely no control.” “So do we approach this the same way that I did originally,” Peter wondered aloud, “and tell General Paige and General Atkins? They would have to involve the White House again, and that would lead to the FBI broadening its involvement and even greater Washington oversight. The more people involved, whether government or not, the greater the likelihood of the story getting out, Charley or no Charley.”

“Why don’t we do this?” Sara said, thinking out loud. “Charley said that this other journalist suggested this only as a possibility, although perhaps an accurate one, based on what was his friend’s first reaction to the story. It does make sense. But then Charley jumped on board and is now running with it, with no proof whatsoever, because he is getting desperate. He also should be more careful about flapping his lips to others, particularly other journalists, if he really wants to have this as an exclusive breaking story. “Anyway, why don’t we just let this ride for a while. I it it will be taking a chance, but keep in mind that this source has not ed Charley again and told him that he would not, according to what Charley told you. It’s possible that the source got scared revealing what he or she did originally and decided to walk away, leaving the digging for more data up to your friend. One thing that we can do is snoop around here to see if there is a voice-scrambling device on base, although I cannot imagine where it could be. Didn’t Charley say that the voice was not distinguishable because it was scrambled?” “Yes, he did,” Peter answered. “If we can’t locate that equipment here, then that would possibly put the ball back in Charley’s court. The source, in all likelihood, would be in Washington. Okay, we’ll do it your way. See, I can it when a woman is right.” “With a woman back in your life again, sweetheart, you’ll have to get used to it.” With that, she gave him a kiss, right in the Officers Club, without fully realizing that someone might have observed what could possibly be construed as behavior unbecoming an officer.

Chapter 27

Saturday, June 26

P eter and Sara walked over to the base istration building. General Paige had said nothing about an afternoon meeting or any other scheduled activity, so the two wanted to catch up on what had to be a panic of activity, now that the spaceship repair was on, hopefully for good. When they walked in the front entrance, they immediately encountered a number of people, some in uniform, some not, walking quickly to and fro, all seemingly with something important to accomplish and little time to do it. General Atkins was standing in the foyer, talking to several high-ranking officers representing all of the military branches. “Colonel Bradford … Peter!” he called out when he noticed them approaching. “My staff has been trying to you! There is an urgent meeting in the group’s office space on the second floor, starting in fifteen minutes. We will work on finalizing the details of the repair program. On your way, stop by General Paige’s office to pick up some materials for the meeting. They will be in security pouches, so guard them with your life.” “Yes, sir!” Lt. Colonel Bradford replied, immediately returning to her position as an army officer of some rank. “Do you need anyone else ed for the meeting or security personnel positioned at the door or in the hallway?” “No, that won’t be necessary. Everyone required to be here for the meeting has now been informed. As to security, the fewer people moving about in the hallways, the better. Security at the entrances to the building should suffice.” “Yes, sir.” She and Peter hurried down the hall toward General Paige’s office. Entering, they noticed several persons standing next to the general’s desk. One of them Peter recognized as the president’s national security advisor, Patricia Thomas; the others he assumed were high-ranking of the president’s

personal staff or perhaps her cabinet. They all turned to face the doorway as the two entered. “Colonel Bradshaw … Peter … just in time,” General Paige said, rising from his chair, holding several pouches. “We were just on our way to the second floor. You heard about the meeting, I assume?” “Yes, sir, General,” Lt. Colonel Bradshaw responded, offering to take the pouches from the general. “General Atkins just advised us, sir. We were over at the Officers’ Mess, not knowing a meeting was scheduled. Luckily. we decided to rush over to see what was developing.” “Not necessary to explain, Colonel,” the general interrupted. “This meeting was tentatively scheduled several days ago but not firmed up until last night, really. Our distinguished visitors arrived just moments ago. Ms. Thomas, Mr. Boyle, Mr. McDuffy—my adjutant, Colonel Bradford. The gentleman with her is Mr. Peter Harrigan. He is the one who first made direct with the alien crew of the spaceship on June 10.” “I already know Mr. Harrigan,” Patricia Thomas said, not displaying any emotion or choosing to elaborate. “Yes, of course,” the general quickly replied. “At the meeting with the president several days ago.” Then, quickly, he said, “Colonel, allow me to introduce Ms. Patricia Thomas, the president’s national security advisor. To her left, Secretary of State David Boyle and Secretary of Defense Patrick Mc Duffy.” Greetings and handshakes followed. Then, the general addressed Peter and Lt. Colonel Bradford. “Now that the most pressing threat has subsided, it is time to make certain that the next phase is handled with utmost control and security for this country and all of our allies that will be involved. With that said, let us all proceed upstairs to the meeting.”

The group’s office space was the same size as the one on the first floor in which the teleconference with the president had occurred days earlier. This room had been set up with desks, computers, tables, and comfortable chairs that could be grouped to accommodate a variety of scenarios. Now, it was to be the site for a meeting or series of meetings of historic proportions that could very well determine the future of the planet’s civilization. Walking into the room, Peter noticed that his brother and the other of the general’s group, with the exception of General Atkins, were working at computers at several stations set up along a long wall to the left. Daryl was talking on the phone and gesturing as he did. There were two seating areas located along the wall on the other side of the room, in which a few aerospace scientists from various countries and some of the technicians who had participated in the earlier inspection of the damaged alien stabilizer were seated. General Atkins and other high-ranking officers were seated at several tables that had been pushed together in the center of the room. The president’s national security advisor, the secretaries of state and defense, and General Paige took seats at the tables as well. Peter and Lt. Colonel Bradford were beckoned by General Paige to them at the tables. After sitting down, Peter noticed two widescreen TVs on the wall behind the seating areas. They were turned on; he noticed cameras revealing the bunker room in the White House, although no one appeared to be in that room. General Paige walked to the head of one of the tables, at which a portable lectern had been placed. He opened one of the pouches that had been carried up from his office and withdrew a few papers. He tapped a pen on a water glass in front of him, which quieted the room. “Good afternoon, everyone. I would like to thank those who have traveled a great distance over night, no doubt without much sleep, arriving late this morning. I will make the necessary introductions, just to make certain that no one remains a stranger in the room. First, General Atkins at the far end of my table is Central Command’s Intelligence Officer for Special Operations, assigned to this operation. Following on his left are my fellow comrades who me on the t Chiefs of Staff, whose primary duty is to advise the president on military matters pertaining to the nation’s defense readiness and strategies:

General Carlos Perez, General Benjamin Stevens, General Beverly Hamilton, and iral Alexander Cummings. “At the table to my left is Patricia Thomas, the president’s national security advisor; next to her, Secretary of State David Boyle; and Secretary of Defense Patrick Mc Duffy. Also at their table, my adjutant, Colonel Bradford, and, at the end, Mr. Peter Harrigan, department head of archaeology and anthropology at Stanford University, among other notable areas of achievement. “Still working hard at the stations along the wall to my right are Mr. Paul Harrigan, Peter’s brother, and senior research scientist at NASA; Katrina Douglas, Director of Astronomical Research and Development, also at NASA; Karl Holzhauer, senior aerospace scientist from the European Space Agency assigned to NASA; and Daryl Stark, everyone’s person in Washington and, according to the scuttlebutt, connected with several of this country’s secret security and intelligence-gathering organizations that cannot be mentioned, which I believe is also true of my good friend, General Charles Atkins. “All of you and many others are now involved in what can only be described as a monumental, prodigious effort to accomplish the improbable but not the impossible. We have only within the last few days managed to escape from an encounter with alien spaceships and their inhabitants that would have taxed any efforts on our part to overcome. In other words, we escaped by the skin of our teeth. Fortunately for the planet, all of this occurred without the rest of the world’s population being aware of any of it, but just barely. “As you may know by now, there was a real threat that all of this could have been revealed, from the alien spacecraft landing in the desert, to the threat of an alien invasion, to the location of this most secret base. And that threat still exists and is as much of a threat with this ship’s repair as it was before. I assure you that steps have been taken and are continuing to locate and apprehend any and all persons who may be responsible for any type of security leak to the media during the duration of this operation. “In the meantime, our responsibility is to organize the country’s and the world’s efforts to this task. Those assembled here this morning will be involved in focusing the world’s resources and efforts to do what many are saying cannot be done without a harnessing of the world’s technological talent and resources over a period of not less than one hundred years, if we are to factor in the pace of

technological development around the world since the turn of the twentieth century. “It’s sort of like picturing the development of our space program to date having been accomplished in a period of a little over a week, instead of over many decades. Can we grow the technology necessary to effect a repair on this alien ship quickly enough and efficiently enough to make it work at all? And can we do so in a controlled way, so as to not unleash, through media and public attention, all of the unpredictable aspects of our society and society’s government, with its varying political interests, while at the same time protecting society’s constitutional rights? That is what we are about today and into the foreseeable future. Now, I want to start out with a summary of just where we are, so that everyone is starting out on the same footing. “By the way, we must focus on the cooperative effort of the alien crew and its commander. That is necessary if we are to succeed. Starting tomorrow, our meetings will include the alien ship’s commander and its command assistant. Those meetings will be held in the hangar’s crew quarters’ area. We are currently making the required modifications to assure that the spaces are equipped and comfortable, taking into consideration what accommodations the aliens may need. The ship’s crew will still use their ship for their personal needs throughout the repair, with living adjustments being made as required. To begin as promised, our visitors from Washington will summarize the current situation from their perspective. Ms. Thomas, Mr. Boyle, and Mr. Mc Duffy.” “Thank you, General Paige,” Patricia Thomas responded as she rose from her chair and walked toward the lectern. “First of all, the president’s office is confident that it has been kept fully informed throughout the events of the past two-plus weeks by all involved parties. President Hunter is happily relieved, as we all are, by the most recent diversion of the alien ships away from our solar system and is hopeful that the remaining issue—the repair of the remaining alien spaceship at this base—can be accomplished expeditiously and that the ship can then quickly depart, bringing to an end to the most threatening occurrence to life on this planet. “President Hunter is hopeful that the issue of a possible breach of security— namely, the continuing threat of a release of this story by the media—is under control. Such a thing could unleash not only the media hounds but also those who fervently believe every government conspiracy theory ever proposed,

particularly if the location of this base becomes known and it is suspected, once again, that the government is hiding little men from outer space and is conducting secret genetic experiments on them. The ramifications of such a disruption could possibly destroy this government during the repair period and not just this istration. “As you can see,” Ms. Thomas said, motioning to the flat screen TVs, “everything is in place whenever it becomes necessary for another teleconferencing meeting with the White House. The satellite connection will remain open, so that the president can be ed and present on a moment’s notice in the event of an emergency or can this base whenever something develops in Washington of significance to this situation. Now, I would like to call to the lectern Mr. David Boyle, secretary of state, who will discuss the latest political developments involving our allies around the world in relation to harnessing their assets, both industrial and technological, to assure a timely and successful repair of the alien spaceship. Secretary Boyle.” “Thank you, Ms. Thomas,” he replied while approaching the head of the table. Once there, he withdrew folded papers from an inside suit coat pocket and scanned them before speaking. “These are trying times for our allies and for the alliances, whether European or elsewhere around the world, when it comes to participating in this repair scenario. What could easily have been possible, although not without some difficulty before the specter of an actual invasion, is now highly problematic. Many of our allies—their governments—are now under quiet political pressure from within to resist any call for assistance in this undertaking. It is difficult to say at this time how widespread this resistance may become, with interests that span across the continents exerting party-related pressure in many of the houses of government. As an aside, they also share our concern about a breaking story and the unleashed media tsunami that would result. I assure you that the State Department is applying a pressure of its own to convince our allies of the accrued benefit for all in working with the alien crew to repair their damaged stabilizer, that being the acquisition of advanced technologies that will benefit their economies and societies for centuries to come. “I will be attending a series of meetings with our European allies starting Monday. So far, Great Britain and are probably on board. The labor unions in both countries are in , primarily because it holds the promise of jobs, depending on what manufacturing requirements will be necessary, although

they primarily will be in those high-tech industries ing any European Space Agency efforts, with which Mr. Karl Holzhauer over there against the wall is most familiar. However, there is substantial resistance in both countries from the more conservative elements, because a repair seems to be rewarding the alien attempt at taking over the planet. They posit the argument that nothing is going to prevent another such intrusion, the next time a successful one, if they still cannot locate a suitable planet to rescue their civilization. Much better to deny them the repair, forcing them back into space to a fate that they justly deserve. The conservatives, however, do not seem to be able to muster enough votes to enable any restrictive legislation in either country. “As to , the government is not responsive to any cooperative effort so far, even though it is active in the ESA. As far as Spain, Italy, the low countries, and the alpine countries are concerned, the talks continue. But for Spain and Italy, their economies are still trying to recover, after all these years, from the massive debts they acquired from their profligate spending ways in the past. Neither industry nor labor there seem to have enough political clout at this time to force any kind of action through their legislatures, although to be honest, I am not so sure that they could contribute anything substantial to the enterprise in any event. That means that it basically boils down to Great Britain and . “Now, as to Asia, I will be going to Japan, South Korea, and China after my stops in Europe. So far, there still seems to be a solid footing for involvement across the board. I think that is because the Asians see this as a no-brainer, particularly China. Those countries see and plan farther into the future than we do. It’s not at all unusual for them to look a hundred years into the future, whereas we find it difficult to think and plan much beyond next Tuesday. China is always looking for new technologies to help them lock up the markets, as they can usually produce any kind of product much cheaper than the rest of us, such as in solar technology. After all, the government there always has to contend with keeping over a billion people busy and happy. “The question will be, how much is all this going to cost us, because no one is going to invest—and that is exactly what they will be asked to do if they come on board—until they know how much the ticket to ride is going to cost. We will not know that until we get enough into the details to be able to work up a workable estimate. This means that a substantial monetary commitment will be required before anyone sees one cent in return. It is possible that the United States will be asked to put up the ante before the cards can be dealt. The only

thing that may help is, again, the response of the Asians. They may see this as the gift that will keep on giving and be willing to put up a substantial investment to gain a larger piece of the action. “That brings me to the crux of the issue. I think that we had better start thinking in of what is going to be the expectations for all concerned—government, business, the media, the people, certainly the alien crew and ship. What is going to be the motivating factor—money, power, prestige, or merely doing the right thing for the right reason? Along the way, many will want control, many will want their reward, and many will weigh the cost of sacrifice carefully. I am not a biblical scholar, but keep in mind the words of the Bible: “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Another one to keep in mind: “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts, absolutely.” “We should all keep those adages in mind throughout. I know that I will when I meet with the leaders of those countries that I have mentioned. Who will be the real power brokers, and what will be the motivating factors in play? With that, I believe that I have to turn over the festivities to my cabinet colleague, Mr. Patrick Mc Duffy, the secretary of defense. Patrick!” “David,” the defense secretary said en route to the front of the table, “you were always a talker when you and I were in the Senate. Now it’s time for someone to be short and to the point, because someone said that time is of the essence, and isn’t it always?” There was a polite level of chuckling as the secretary moved to the lectern. The two politicians were known for their bantering over the years when they were serving in the Senate—the secretary of defense, a staunch Republican conservative; the secretary of state, a dedicated liberal Democrat. “David gave a fine overview of what faces us when it comes to seeking the cooperative efforts of the countries necessary to effectively work together toward a common and hopefully beneficial goal, as well as the financial, political, and psychological hurdles to overcome in the process of ing and sustaining such a herculean task—a task of epic proportions. My bailiwick is the security and defense of this country, a task no less herculean, during a process that could take many months or years. During that time, it will be necessary to assure the continuing secrecy and security of the project, an almost impossible task, given the constitutional rights of freedom of speech, freedom the press, guarantees

against unreasonable searches and seizures, and equal protection under the law. “It will be my task as secretary of defense and the task of the t Chiefs representing all of the military branches, working in conjunction with the White House and the various security and intelligence-gathering agencies, to assure that the citizens of this country cannot do or know things that they might have a constitutional right to do or to know, if those actions threaten the security necessary to complete the repair of the alien ship. “It can be no other way, although it will create contradictory situations that may be difficult for many to understand. Our mission now is not to defend this country from outside attack. Ours is to protect it from inside attack, by assuring the environment necessary to promote a mission that will go a long way toward advancing our knowledge and technological capabilities. That knowledge and technology otherwise would take untold centuries of research and development, success and failure. “We will begin locally by establishing concentric circles of physical security, much like was done around Area 51 in its day. Video cameras and motion detectors will be positioned in such a way as to cover the easiest and most probable approaches to the base. The higher elevations around the base, from which interested parties may try surveillance with telephoto lenses, will be continuously monitored by drones. Rapid-response teams will be in place day or night, equipped with night-vision goggles, shock grenades, tasers, and highpowered personal weapons, all to be positioned when and where needed by the army’s latest stealth helicopters, the newest of which have been online only within the last six months. “If and when this story breaks, we have to be prepared not only for the media and the curiosity seeker but also for those who may be driven to sabotage the efforts taking place at and around the base. To enhance that approach, we will use various security agencies—whose agents will be positioned in and around the various towns and cities within a hundred-mile radius—to keep track of and identify those individuals who will be drawn to this location. I know that this may sound like overkill, and we do have to be conscious of civilians’ constitutional rights, but this is certainly one of those situations in which an ounce of prevention will be worth more than a pound of cure. We absolutely cannot afford to play catch-up here. As a result, the various government surveillance and security agencies, some of which came into existence after 9/11,

will be involved in this process to keep the wolf as far away from our door as possible. This will include the monitoring of phone calls, e-mails, and traffic on the social media websites coming from or going to known and potential terrorist groups and homegrown militia sites. “All of this is cranking up as I speak. Daily updates as to the disposition of these forces will be made by secure line at 0800 hours Eastern time. We hope to have full implementation no later than 0800 hours on Monday, July 5. That is all that I have at the present time. Again, there will be constant daily updates to our state of readiness. For now, I will turn this over to General Paige. General.” The silence was palpable. Secretary of Defense McDuffy’s comments on the growing levels of security that would surround the base were like a splash of cold water on many of those listening, for those statements brought to the fore the undeniable reality of what they possibly could face very soon. What would be the impact for them? They would possibly be safer with enhanced security, but at what price? What personal sacrifices would those on the base have to make? Were they going to have their phone calls and e-mails monitored as well? Were they going to have outside agents tracking their activities, judging whether or not they were threatening national security? The project conceivably could be ongoing for many months! “Thank you, Patrick,” General Paige acknowledged. “Ms. Thomas, Mr. Boyle, and Mr. McDuffy have provided an excellent overview of the scale and scope of just what this project will entail. Before I open up the remaining time for a few questions, I would just like to thank everyone again for responding the way you have to assure our country’s security—those who have ventured from afar to be here and have spoken eloquently about the nature of sacrifice; certainly those of this general’s group, for their time and effort from the very beginning; and my comrades in arms, the t Chiefs, and my adjutant, Colonel Bradford. Your leadership will be an inspiration for all of those who will, in turn, inspire others to efforts above and beyond. Now, any questions? Paul?” “Thanks, General,” Paul quickly responded. “I appreciate the input regarding the security that will be essential and the need to create a restrictive barrier to prevent unnecessary intrusion, but what are the implications for the people who will have to do the work here? What are the rules for leaving and returning to base? What about our ability to communicate to others, both inside the base and outside? Will everything we do or say have to be approved ahead of time? And

who is going to provide the oversight? I guess what I am saying is that there is always a need for the easy give-and-take of ideas, particularly in a challenging situation like this, including the ability to question, without concern for repressive rules that confine thought and therefore distort effort. Who is going to be in charge here, the military or the civilians? And where do Washington and the pressure of politics enter into this equation? Are we going to be able to do our work without overreaching bureaucratic interference?” The room again was stiflingly quiet, as if a vacuum had been created. Nearly everyone looked at Paul and then over to the secretary of defense. Sensing the mood of the crowd, General Paige motioned toward the secretary, who rose up from his chair and stood in place. “Well, folks, I did mention that we would have to be aware of everyone’s constitutional rights during this process. I agree with Paul Harrigan about the negative effects of too much control. It is not anyone’s intention here to recreate the Gestapo, with early morning raids that whisk away enemies of the state. We are going to have to remain cognizant, however, of threats to what we are trying to accomplish. Keep in mind that there already has been a breach of security, with this supposed Deep Throat character ing that Washington journalist. Thankfully, nothing has come of it so far, but that is no assurance that it will not happen. It undoubtedly will eventually, and we have to be prepared for it. We are just going to have to exercise restraint and common sense throughout this, people. That doesn’t mean that we have to listen constantly to what others are saying or doing and to blow whistles whenever we see or hear something suspicious. The key is to look for the things that appear to be out of place.” “Are you currently looking around for this Deep Throat character?” Daryl asked from his workstation. “As a matter of fact, we are, Daryl,” the secretary replied. “The initial with Charley Whitmore that occurred in Washington on the twenty-first revealed enough sensitive information that all of us should be alarmed. To be honest, we suspect that the person is probably highly placed in one of Washington’s many intelligence-gathering agencies in order to be privy to such information so soon. The FBI has been on this since the beginning, so far without much progress. That may mean that the individual has the ability to hide behind his or her position, while maintaining an impeccable image.”

“Any other questions?” General Paige interrupted, not wanting this line of discussion to continue. “Yes, I do,” Katrina Douglas said. “Given the last data from Telescope, which looks encouraging from NASA’s point of view, are you completely confident that the alien ships that diverted are now out of the picture and that we can proceed with the ship’s repair without having to worry about their return?” “Is that question for me?” General Paige asked. “Actually, for anyone here. It is meant as a consensus question. The data that I mentioned is pretty conclusive that the danger is over. However, from a security point of view, do you think that we can afford to concentrate all of our resources on this repair exclusively? Do we think that our allies, those who may participate in the repair, are confident that the process won’t be interrupted again, as it was previously?” “That is a good question, Katrina,” the general responded. “Karl Holzhauer, what would you and your friends at the ESA say about that?” “Katrina and I have been discussing this, along with Paul, for some time. I have also been in with my colleagues overseas. We in the space business are all committed. I think that the nature of Katrina’s question is, are we ready to commit our resources entirely to this repair job, because it is going to take an enormous amount of energy over a rather extended period of time to do it correctly. We cannot afford to begin if we cannot continue unabated. Can we truly put this other thing behind us psychologically and proceed into the future, or will we have nightmares about it?” “Yes, I understand your concern from a scientist’s point of view,” the general responded. “You want to know if the governmental and military bureaucracies are willing to commit what it will take, or are they going to hold back on the resources necessary to do the job in order to continue to be prepared if those alien ships decide to return, as well as be prepared to fight future wars here on earth? Is that about it?” “Basically, yes,” Katrina answered. “Well, look around. What do you see? We are all here now! You have the president’s national security advisor, the secretary of state, the secretary of

defense, and the t Chiefs of Staff to the president. You have a large military base capable of ing the repair, along with the necessary military and civilian personnel qualified to tackle the job. And you have in yourselves the talented professionals in your respective fields, capable of continuing to provide the guidance. On top of it all, we have the alien crew and their training scenarios to assist. “I have confidence in it all. Yes, I would say that we are ready to commit! But keep in mind that nothing exists in a perfect vacuum. Despite the tremendous investment for the government, military, and marketplace in this repair job, we still have a situation of unpredictability in our world. And most of those people still have no idea about any of this. That means that they are going to do whatever it is that they do in the world on a day-to-day basis, and that includes terrorist activities and other potentially threatening situations. We still have to be prepared for all of that as well, and that has its ongoing costs on top of what we are going to do here. It is just the reality of the situation. Now, if there is nothing else, we have some visitors who have to return to Washington. So, this meeting is adjourned.”

Chapter 28

Monday, June 28

A s usual, reveille sounded at 0600 hours. Although the actual speaker making the noise was many yards away, it managed to rouse both Peter and Sara. Both rolled over, moaning, because they had not been able to break away earlier than eleven o’clock last night from the Officers Club without raising a suspicion that they might be trying to do exactly what they were intending to do, which was for the two of them to individually end up at Peter’s remote officers’ barracks without anyone noticing. Had they not been so much in love—or lust, to actually consider it—they would have realized that the remaining of their group immediately began talking about just that once they were gone. All were happy for the budding lovers and hopeful that no one, particularly General Paige, would see fit to make an issue of it. By the time they were finished relieving their pent-up sexual frustrations, it was well after twelve-thirty. Then, rolling over later in the night had momentarily awakened them, which, not surprisingly, led to another encounter with those same frustrations. Now, they lay awake, holding one another, this time safe from a third such occurrence. “Peter, my dear, what was that last drink you brought me? I really think that the bartender was trying to close out all of his open stock with that one.” “Do you asking for something different? I asked the bartender what he would recommend for a striking beautiful lady, and he suggested a Long Island iced tea, which sounded just about right. Why do you ask?” “You know damned well why. And then, on top of it, you talked me into coming up to your apartment to see your paintings and sketches. You took advantage of me, you know.” “And I loved every moment of it, sweetheart, as did you. Again, you

demonstrated a capacity, an agility, that continues to amaze me, a mere babe in the woods. I was just an innocent until I met you.” “Oh, please! I wasn’t aware of any of the positions that we have used so far. Until you, I thought the missionary position was proscribed in the Constitution, for God’s sake, and that we must have been committing treason or something.” Peter rolled over, nudging up to her with his right leg over her torso. He quietly kissed her on the cheek. He then removed his leg and slowly worked his hand from her left breast down toward the blond patch at the meeting of her thighs. As he did that, he raised himself up and moved his lips to her left nipple, lightly licking it. “Dear, I would ask you what you thought you were doing, but I don’t have to, do I? I thought that we broke the world’s record for that last night, a record that will stand for generations to come.” Any memory of last night’s sensations gave way to the intense pleasure of the present ones. Before giving in to what she knew she could not resist, Sara whispered in his ear, “Keep in mind that we do have a meeting at 0800 hours. Everyone will be there again. We just cannot be late.” Peter’s reply was to kiss her ionately, while drawing her to him.

At 0800 hours, everyone was present and ed for, even Tubrang Gilf and his command assistant. The meeting was once again held in the hangar area, this time in the crew’s briefing and flight-planning room, which was air conditioned. There were no TVs present as yet, but phone conferencing equipment had been installed for communications, primarily with the White House but also for agencies such as the FBI, if needed. Certain provisions had been made to accommodate the two alien crew . It had not been certain if the crew’s chairs would do for them, so two hammock-looking devices had been set up to see if they would prove comfortable, based on similar-looking ones noticed earlier inside the spaceship. Peter and Sara were seated together. When entering the room earlier, they had quietly debated whether or not they should; Paul, who overheard their questioning, approached and simply said that they should absolutely not worry about it, the implication being that there no longer was a reason to do so. By the time that everyone was present, the room was just about to capacity. Generals Paige and Atkins were seated at the front of the briefing room at collapsible tables, along with the remaining t Chiefs of Staff. Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant appeared to be comfortably positioned in their makeshift hammocks. The president’s national security advisor and the secretaries of state and defense had returned to Washington last night. The announced purpose of the meeting presumably was to officially cut the tape on the start of the alien ship repair, which had been dubbed Operation Launch prior to the threat of an alien invasion. From this point on, all efforts would be directed to organizing those efforts needed to achieve maximum utilization of forces and resources. Topics such as lining up suppliers of the thousands of items that would be continuously needed at the base, along with the transportation and disposition of those items, were high on the priority list. Part of that process would involve a determination of the primary industries and companies to be considered, once the exact repair requirements were determined; establishing a priority list of the industries and companies that could meet the exacting engineering specifications; establishing a market-bidding process, if that was decided and if time allowed, as to how to fairly evaluate submitted bids; and finally, setting up a negotiating committee to narrow down

the contractual details, so that expectations were clearly understood and could be met within the guidelines. It would have be decided if a normal market-bidding process could work out, particularly on an international scale, and still maintain the necessary level of security. All of this and more were discussed during the meeting, including how to conduct the vast array of business and repair activities over a lengthy period without arousing suspicion from the locals and others who might hear rumors of such activity. This was of particular concern in light of the already established threat of the story being broken by the media. The technical and logistical requirements were prodigious, as continued discussion revealed. How would they farm out the research and development requirements, followed by the production requirements, followed by the transportation requirements? The more companies around the world that become involved in the research, development, and production aspects, the greater the chance that the repair program would be discovered somewhere in the world. Then, when they started channeling all of the finished components via an international transportation network to a remote base that had not seen any such congregation of men and material in many years, they automatically would draw people’s interest. This would have to be planned in such a way that inbound activity was spread out over a variety of transportation systems on an unscheduled basis and over an extended time frame, so that no one would become interested in any one repetitive process—that was the hoped-for outcome. At some point, the teleconferencing equipment was activated to talk to the White House—to the president’s national security advisor, in particular. The issue was how to best handle the expansive and expensive budgetary aspects—how to direct the financing that would flow in from different countries; how to establish a financial clearing house that would conduct a variety of large monetary transactions in different currencies without any of them showing up in the usual records. This would have to involve certain congressional leaders, such as the Speaker of the House, who stood third in line to the presidency, and perhaps others, such as those heading up the Congressional Budget Committee. All of this had been brought up earlier, before the approaching threat of the alien armadas, then had been tabled when it appeared that long-term financing was the

last thing people had to worry about. Now, it had to be resurrected immediately, so that the growing details and efforts associated with the repair could go off without a hitch. The president’s NSA took the reins of this issue and promised to get back to the base ASAP on those issues directly involving the White House. The meeting broke up at 1100 hours, with the next one scheduled for the next day, Tuesday, at 0800 hours.

The general’s group all met at the Officers’ Mess for an early lunch, including Sara as well. General Paige had said that since she was now an official member of the group, she was to work with them on an ongoing basis and keep him officially informed of its progress with current assigned tasks. They found a table for six by a window and approached slowly until it became clear which two seats Peter and Sara had chosen, and then the rest took their seats. While munching on hamburgers and salads, the casual conversation turned to the just-adjourned meeting. “It’s reassuring, isn’t it, Peter, that we are finally getting started on your pet project?” Katrina said. “I know that it has only been a little over two weeks since we first started meeting, but at times, it seems a lot longer. So much has happened since your encounter in the desert. At last, we can concentrate on the desired outcome.” “Well, that was the beginning for me,” Peter answered, “but you knew about the advancing alien craft long before I became involved, although I don’t suppose back then that you could have thought that it would end like this.” “No, your with the aliens was a revelation to us all. We knew that there was a threat that went well beyond that single alien craft. We were desperate to hear your story, in part to see what we could learn about the exact nature of what the aliens were trying to accomplish, although it didn’t take us long to figure it out. The subsequent game of cat-and-mouse was as scary as it was frustrating. We were lucky to have escaped the most threatening part of it, that’s for sure. Now, we have to get a firm handle on this. There is so much at stake.” “At the time, I couldn’t envision any other approach,” Peter replied. “After all, there they were stuck in the desert, apparently without a way to rescue themselves. What other approach could make any sense, particularly when we could leverage their technology to possibly benefit mankind.” “Well, I can tell you that I am extremely hopeful about this,” Karl interjected. “I can see this benefiting us in so many ways, particularly when it comes to exploring the universe but not exclusively. This will mean the expansion of many industries and not just those directly related to a space program, which in turn will mean higher levels of employment and increasing levels of income and

lifestyles. Economies and societies will benefit from the expanding technologies through the rest of the century and beyond.” The table went quiet. All sat looking out the window at the men and equipment in motion that represented the outward manifestations of the repair program. Inwardly, they thought about the details that would have to go into its completion. One topic, however, was hovering around and would continue to be until it was brought forth for discussion. Paul must have sensed that Daryl was about to do that, for he quietly tried to get Daryl’s attention to forestall it. “Daryl, I think that Paul is trying to get your attention,” Sara whispered to him. “Yes, no doubt he doesn’t want me to bring up your relationship with his brother, but there, I’ve done it. So Paul, you can relax now. In fact, we all can relax and let them finally know how happy we are for them. Two wonderful people finding one another, particularly in a pseudo-war environment. They should be able to openly enjoy each other’s company.” “Daryl, they were basically doing that anyway, particularly with us last night,” Paul quietly responded, “but were trying to keep it low key. But then, you really wouldn’t know anything about low key, would you?” “Paul, I was just trying to clear the air, so that all of the people around them would feel more comfortable when they are around together, enough so that they wouldn’t hesitate to talk to them as a couple if they wanted to. Now, we can.” “Paul, it’s all right,” Sara said. “Peter and I have been trying to keep it low key, but Daryl is right as well. I can tell everyone right now that I am happy that the air has been cleared. Peter and I didn’t bring it up before because the topic never really came up for discussion, maybe because it was too early. We have only been seeing one another for the last few days, although we have been in love with each other somewhat longer. What can I say, other than it just happened?” “I agree,” Peter added. “We certainly won’t be flaunting our relationship, because I don’t think that either one of us is an exhibitionist, in that regard anyway, but we’re happy to have found one another, and now we can openly share that with people who we know and respect. Plus, we’re all going to be so busy over the next several months, probably longer, that no one will be paying

us, as a couple, much attention.” “The only thing will be to let General Paige know,” Sara mentioned, “although I can’t imagine that he hasn’t already picked up that something is afoot.” Katrina spoke up. “Well, Sara, it’s hard not to feel happy for the two of you. I will confess that I noticed that you have been looking happier, perhaps more bubbly, for the past week or so. I speculated to Paul and Karl that maybe there was a special person in your life to explain the change that had occurred, but they thought I was reading something into nothing. But I knew—that women’s intuition thing kicked in. In any event, congratulations. You are both deserving people.” “Thank you, Katrina,” Sara responded, tears hanging in the corners of her eyes. “We appreciate your sharing our happiness with us—all of you, even the male chauvinists in the group.”

Even though Washington was not in the Deep South, it was stifling. It was only late June but ninety-five degrees in the shade by one p.m. Summer was the height of tourist season. The crowds would normally be just about everywhere. The lines for all of the more popular attractions would be long, with wait times of thirty to forty-five minutes. The various vendors up and down the vast walking distance between the Lincoln Memorial and the Capitol building would do a brisk business selling every imaginable souvenir having anything remotely to do with the little-understood history of the country. Today, only a few individuals and families ventured out into the brutal Sunday afternoon sun. The sweltering heat had taken over. Every now and then, people who found themselves in nature’s furnace would ask, “What in the world did they do here before there was air conditioning? My God, everyone living back then deserves to have their own memorial here, don’t you think?” It was, however, more than comfortable in the offices and press rooms of the Washington Daily Herald. It was so cool, in fact, that many of the editors and staff reporters were wearing sweaters, sport coats, or jackets. One of these was Charley Whitmore, who was sitting in the City Desk editor’s office, listening to his boss rant and rave and watching him throw papers around the room and stomp his feet in uncontrolled frustration. The editor, Rodney Hewitt—dressed in a wrinkled short-sleeved shirt with the remnants of this morning’s breakfast noticeable on the front, no tie, and shoes that hadn’t seen a shine since the factory in China—bent down to pick up some of the papers, put his face close to Charley’s, and continued with the tirade, the top of his balding pate just as red, perhaps redder, than his face. “God damn it, Charley, I’m not going to lose my job over this! You have had more than enough time to tie up what you keep calling loose ends on this story! This is Washington, for Christ’s sake! My demented grandmother could go out there and get people to talk! The city wouldn’t exist if people did not have constantly moving mouths—it would still be nothing more than a crock-infested swamp! Now, you listen to me! This is a tabloid paper! Yes, we take great pride in calling ourselves the Washington Daily Herald, but you and I know what it is. We are known for breaking the news—the type of news that people really want to read; the type of news that creates the controversy that drives even more

news; news that sells papers and that make the company money and keep the owners of said company happy! “Now, if you’re worried about writing a story that still has holes in it, a story that could get the paper sued for printing something libelous, something questionable, and purportedly without foundation, not to mention violating national security issues, what in the hell do you think lawyers are for? Do you have any idea how many lawyers this paper has in its employ? Well, let me tell you! Have you ever heard of the law firm Dewitt, Chandler, and Prescott? That’s how many lawyers this paper has in its employ! That old saw about publishing “all the news that’s fit to print” depends on who’s making the call on what is fit. The owners of this paper make that call, Charley, and then I make that call. Then you, particularly if you want to remain at your desk pretending to be a journalist, write the news item that others have decided is fit to print! And you know what, Charley? I am willing to bet that once we have broken the story of the century, the ‘moving mouths’ will come out of the closet, which is a very lonely place these days, and we will be the ones to have broken the story. No, Charley, you will be the one to have broken the story!”

Chapter 29

Tuesday, June 29, and Wednesday, June 30

T he base was abuzz with activity all of a sudden. It was as if the Wizard of the Western Desert had waved his magic wand to suddenly change the pace from the lethargic movements of the desert’s indigenous creatures to a frenzy of activity. Beyond the movements of the original contingent of army and civilian personnel at the newly operational base, another “army” had taken position of the premises over the past seventy-two hours, composed of dozens of security types in camouflage; an equal number of civilians, rumored to be under government contract and tasked to perform sundry tasks that no one felt obliged to identify; and a squadron of differentiated fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters, not all of which were carrying military livery. The bases two entrances, that had been staffed by friendly and smiling MPs with holstered handguns, were now guarded by some of the new security types in camouflage, with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders and expressions that dared one to even begin thinking about approaching the base. The base headquarters building had been filling up rapidly with people of all ranks, military and civilian. Rooms, particularly on the second floor, that had been vacant just yesterday, were now occupied by varying types of individuals, all vying for whatever square footage might be left unattended. The same was true for most of the other buildings up and down the main street on the base. For Peter and Sara, the conquest was not only making it difficult to work as quietly as before in their offices but was also more difficult for them to be alone in what was once a remote location, for the officers’ barracks for men and women near the outer perimeter of the base were now mostly occupied. The daily meetings, mostly in the relatively cool mornings, were now attended by so many that some of the walls in the crews’ quarters in the hangar had to be relocated to make room for the additional attendees in the briefing rooms. Those

attending now included more of the alien AKAR crew as well. In order to facilitate communications, additional translators were brought in by those aliens. It was taking some time for the humans and aliens to communicate easily, because of the clicking sounds made by the aliens and the momentary delays of the translator to convert to English and vice versa. Still being discussed were the rules that would end up determining under what conditions those on the base, military and civilian, could come and go, if at all. Would some of the civilians eventually have to live off base, or would the military housing have to increase to accommodate the predicted hundreds of people—scientists and technicians—from different companies and countries who would arrive as the scope of the repair accelerated? What about getting leave approved? What about getting es to go into the nearest towns and more distant cities? As more and more shipments arrived, both by air and ground, involving not only equipment necessary to the spaceship’s repair but also tons of everyday materials that would keep people fed and offices operating, more and more attention was being paid to the logistics and larger issues of what would be a never-ending process. Those unpaved roads in the area—and there were miles of them—that would be used by all vehicles were sprayed almost daily with an oil-based liquid to help keep down the flying dust that would automatically attract the curious. Just about all of those truck shipments arrived in the middle of the night, when most people in the area would be asleep, and the vehicles had taped headlights that restricted the amount of light projected ahead of them, similar to the blackouts in the country during World War II. The arriving aircraft—and most of those arrived at night as well—did so with all navigational lights out within one hundred miles of the airport, and the approach, touchdown, and runway lights were not illuminated until they were on a onemile final. All that air traffic control knew was that these aircraft all canceled their instrument flight plans outside of the one-hundred-mile range and proceeded under visual flight rules, weather permitting, for the remaining distance. Once the flight plans were canceled, the pilots switched frequencies to the remote base, where military ground approach controllers took over and provided

guidance when necessary to the flight crews. The approach charts and approach control frequencies used by the crews were heavily classified and were secretly approved by the FAA. General Atkins, as Central Command’s Intelligence Officer for Special Operations, was now in official command of the base and its activities and served as the security coordinating officer for the t Chiefs of Staff to assure that all military operations were operating on the same page. This involved coordinating at the highest levels all government security and intelligencegathering functions related to the base and all efforts to spot individuals and/or groups who might pose a risk to the repair program now underway.

General Paige’s unofficial group was fortunate to hang on to the entire square footage of its office on the second floor of the base’s headquarters building. While other office space had been carved up by the hoard of invading military and civilian personnel of various ranks, their office and its setup remained intact. That was fortunate, because all were now so busy that any additional people running in and out would have seriously disrupted the flow. Peter and Sara were assigned to work together as necessary, surprisingly for both of them, and were tasked with keeping the White House up-to-date on all base activities related to the scheduled repair of the alien ship and on the latest information regarding the threatened revelation of the story by the media, particularly from the Washington Daily Herald’s Charley Whitmore. Surprisingly, Peter’s latest attempts to Mr. Whitmore had ended up going to his voice mail. Sara still had space in General Paige’s office and still had the responsibility to organize and execute the many comings and goings of General Paige’s schedule, which included increased briefings and meetings with the t Chiefs. Currently, the general was at the Pentagon for just that reason. Katrina Douglas, Karl Holzhauer, and Paul were constantly busy working directly with NASA and Europe’s ESA to continue to keep track of those alien ships that had diverted just short of earth’s solar system for greener pastures and to coordinate all efforts by the space agencies to investigate the encounter for all information that might put a sharper focus on the exact nature of that event. They also were the clearing house for any and all new technological revelations coming as a result of the ongoing cooperative efforts with the alien crews. To facilitate that, Tubrang Gilf’s command assistant of the alien ship was working directly with them to organize and formulate that relevant data as it was revealed during the repair.

Daryl Stark was in Washington as Tuesday, the twenty-ninth, dawned. He had been sent back to assist in coordinating the negotiating process of the growing lists of contracts to provide the heavy repair equipment, products, and services at the remote base. In the process, that congressional leadership that had been cleared was asserting its control over the behind-the-scenes budgeting process to underwrite the costs that were starting to skyrocket. Daryl’s job was to keep people talking to one another in order to keep the process under wraps as long as possible, keeping the special interest groups in the dark as long as possible. But Daryl knew that the political reality of the city dictated that congressional could only hold out so long before giving in to the pressure from the special interests and their lobbyists, particularly the moneyed interests that helped them get elected and reelected over the decades. And once those remaining congressional , with the moneyed interests on board, became privy to the details of anything potentially beneficial to them, they would dig in their heels until they were able to get better for their constituents who directly voted for them, ed all the while by millions of dollars flowing from the various political action committees, for whom writing the truly big checks was considered an expression of free speech. And so, the democratic process, however convoluted, confusing and contentious at times, remained at least well lubricated. From the outset and from a personal point of view, Daryl would try to keep track of just how much of the many hundreds of billions of dollars secretly budgeted by Congress, in this case, might end up finding its way under the tables in the backrooms to keep the political wheels continually greased and decisions made. And all of this was before the entire project became public knowledge. The projected costs likely would zoom into the stratosphere when the entire scope of this became known, which was another reason why many in Congress wanted to keep this under wraps as long as possible. For Daryl, that was definitely something that he did not want to have happen. For him, this time meant the opportunity of a lifetime. He couldn’t believe it when General Paige requested that he fly back to Washington. They wanted him back there primarily because of his powerful s, built up over many years and worth money in the bank. Daryl was not so much interested in the money. Although, he thought, I can’t afford to turn my back on such an unbelievable

stream of cash that will flow well into the future, particularly when it comes to funding for any new technologies spun off from the spaceship repair. For Daryl, the bottom line was all about information, for knowledge was the ultimate aphrodisiac in this town. People were known for who they knew, for whose name they could drop and in front of whom they could drop it, and for who they could readily influence when the pressure was applied, more than for how much money they might have in some offshore . That was only money, Daryl thought, and in Washington that particular currency didn’t have much value, because you could simply print more of it when needed. No, it was information that brought people to your door, for information was power, and people respected the true source of such power. With the right information, you could leverage your way into anyone’s camp. You could end up being a true king maker in a town where that was what the political movers and shakers aspired to. Let someone else be president of the United States. The real power and resultant rewards resided with those who could make someone president. That was why Daryl had ed the owners of the Washington Daily Herald, soon after he had found out about the alien ship that landed in the desert, and had made his proposal. It was another stroke of good fortune when Peter ed him to tell him about his encounter, and another stroke of luck to have known General Paige and to have put Peter in touch with the general and, then, to have been invited into the inner circle as the story unfolded. He was at the source itself, at the fountainhead of the flow of the most earth-shattering information. The owners of the paper, although hesitant at first because of possible repercussions due to the national security aspects, did not need much encouraging in the end, after Daryl explained the nature of the protective cover embedded in his plan. They immediately recognized the unbelievable opportunity that Daryl was willing to put in their lap—they could leverage this story for months, perhaps years. It had all of the elements to keep the paper’s masthead in consumers’ eyes and at the top of the industry for years, and not just in Washington. There might even be a Pulitzer prize in it for investigative journalism. What a feather in their cap—something to throw in the face of those more established, high-profile papers in the city. Not bad for a rag of a paper that they had purchased for pennies on the dollar before it went bankrupt just a few years ago.

For Daryl, it would mean an almost exponential increase in his power in the city. The ultra-wealthy owners would owe him big time. Think of how that could be leveraged into even more influence. All the paper’s owners had to do was give the story to one of their less capable reporters, one who wouldn’t be too hesitant to pursue the story and rush it into print, particularly when given most of the pertinent details—a reporter whose scruples about ing sources would take second place to the idea of breaking the story quickly. And the owners had the employee to do just that—Charley Whitmore, someone who hadn’t been able to hold on to a good newspaper job in over twenty years. Daryl did have a few qualms ing Peter, his former college roommate, in this way. Then again, he and Peter had never been that close. Yes, Peter was a good man, an intelligent man, one who got better grades than did Daryl. But Peter always had to work for his A’s, while Daryl was content to use his ability to influence people, whether girls or professors, to leverage himself into desired positions and ing grades. He certainly could some of those positions where the coeds were concerned. As to the professors, they certainly appreciated the many introductions to those same girls on campus that he was able to arrange for them. The latest call from those owners, which he had received several days ago, suggested that maybe this Charley Whitmore could use a bit more information to give the story about to break a little more sizzle. Daryl was more than happy to oblige; he just had to be careful not to blow his cover. That could prove disastrous. He would just have to reprise his disguised voice and perhaps reveal additional information that could not be traced directly back to him.

Chapter 30

Thursday, July 1, through Sunday, July 4

P eter read the headlines for the umpteenth time:

ALIEN INVASION THREATENED! GOVERNMENT COVER-UP REVEALED! NO COMMENT FROM WHITE HOUSE CONGRESS PROMISES INVESTIGATION

The story dated July 1, written by reporter Charley Whitmore of the Washington Daily Herald, covered most of the details everyone had been interested in keeping quiet. Everyone in the Hunter istration was now scrambling to come up with a credible explanation that would serve to discredit this scurrilous attempt at creating a tabloid story, designed to stir up public sentiment without a shred of evidence to back up their ridiculous claims. The only problem was the timing. With the weekend pending, there was no way to truly calm the public’s concerns and fears until Monday, and by then this “fabrication” would have had a two-day run, basically unchallenged. The longer that the White House waited to mount a defense, the more the public would tend to believe a good portion of what was being jammed down their throats. These were thoughts and comments from nearly everyone in the Hunter istration and from those at the remote base who were associated with the story itself.

The group sat in their office on the second floor at 0830 hours, quietly reading the details revealed in the morning edition of the Washington Daily Herald. The article covered much of the story, from the encounter in the desert, to the moving of the alien ship to a remote location, to the threatened invasion of even more alien spaceships. There was just enough to create a scenario in the minds of the readers that this was believable. This was not just possible; this was and had been happening for weeks. Readers would wonder why they hadn’t been told, if the country and the world were being threatened with an alien invasion. Who was responsible? Where was the president, and why did she not come forth with a public statement? What about this congressional investigation? How was the White House involved? The group could tell, just by the way the article was worded to evoke the strongest feelings, that public outrage was a given. No one wanted to be the first to offer up a comment; they were sitting on a powder keg, where the first movement or spoken word would be enough to set off the cataclysm. The ringing phone startled them out of their nightmarish reverie. Lt. Colonel Bradford was the first to move. General Paige was at the other end. They were all to come down to the first-floor meeting room immediately. No one wanted to obey. At the moment, they were afraid of the reaction. They were afraid of what the future held for them now. When they walked into the meeting room, only General Paige and General Atkins awaited them. The wide-screen TVs were on, still showing the wooded White House bunker room. A few people were moving around, with some walking around the large table distributing documents. Others were standing around in the background, arms crossed, whispering behind their hands. Not a smile was to be seen anywhere. The movement suddenly increased. Those whispering seconds ago had now perked up, looking toward the door leading into the room. President Hunter entered the room, circled around the table, and took her seat. As she did so, the others followed suit. Within seconds, all were seated, and the sound that suddenly filled the room let those in the first-floor meeting room at the base know that the meeting with the president was underway.

“Good morning, General Paige,” the president said. “Can you hear me okay?” “Yes, Madam President, we can hear you.” “Fine. Let’s get to it. By now everyone knows of the breaking news in this morning’s Washington Daily Herald. To state the obvious, it is potentially devastating, regardless of whether or not it has all of its facts straight. It will, of course, be difficult to successfully refute the reported details between now and Monday; no coincidence there. “Which makes it even more imperative now that we chase down this source. If we cannot do that, we risk being unable to control any aspect of what we are trying to accomplish. I will tell you that if I were the alien commander at this point, I would probably want to get in my little spaceship and get out of Dodge just as soon as I could. It is apparent that we cannot guarantee them whatever we did, at least when it comes to being able to protect them and our program. It seems that we are demonstrating to them our incapacity to control even the most basic aspects of program security. General Paige, what say you?” “I agree with you that we must find the leak. If we don’t, what is to prevent him or her from continuing to release additional information throughout the program in an unpredictable fashion, which will make it impossible to control. No aspect of it will be deemed safe. It will not take long before many of those involved to begin questioning our capabilities and then start dropping out.” “Okay,” the president immediately responded. “Then let’s brainstorm right now to see if we cannot narrow down the possibilities. This has to be a simple case of eliminating the possible. What’s that statement you always hear in those old mystery movies? “If you eliminate all other possibilities, the one remaining, however implausible, has to be the answer.’” “Yes, Madam President,” the general answered, “I believe that is how it goes.” “Well, we have assembled here the Hunter istration,” the president firmly stated. “I’d like to think that I could make another successful run for this office next time up but not if my istration cannot do a little sleuthing in the interim. General, you first. Where do we begin?” “The first thing is,” the general began, “who would have the opportunity to acquire that kind of information to begin with? The source would have to be

positioned in the highest circles to have access to top secret information, certainly on a continuous basis. Unfortunately, for Washington, that includes a lot of people. The question, then, is how many of our agencies have been briefed on the situation and are conducting internal investigations? Where is the FBI on this? Second, what would be the source’s motive? Is someone selling secrets for economic gain? Or is the source motivated by a higher calling, such as revealing secrets in order to undermine growing government power and involvement in their lives? “The next that thing I would consider is who has access to voice-scrambling equipment? There is no such equipment on the base, so that leaves the source calling from somewhere else. Wait just a minute, Madam President—I have just been informed that voice scrambling software applications are available on certain cell phones, so that complicates things a little. I would say we find out what cell phone manufacturers supply voice-scrambling apps and then see who happens to be using those types of phones. “A fourth possibility is that most everyone has assumed that the source has to be in Washington. Where else would such information be so valuable and available? But he or she could conceivably have been operating here as well. Actually, now that I think about it, the source, who started revealing information just days after all of this began, would have to have been involved in this from the very beginning, even before we moved to this base. Since we have been operating on a need-to-know basis all along, that would mean that the source is likely to have been involved with me and my office since day one. “We all started out in Washington, which would have been convenient for anyone at that time who wanted to divulge information. Then we all moved out here to the remote base, and the ing on of information seemed to continue. So the individual likely has been here as well and privy to any new information generated—for instance, the information that the alien ships were actually steaming away from our solar system. So we need to consider those individuals who have smart phones and have had access to all of the information generated from day one, and who has an affinity for gaining and making use of information for his or her own benefit or gain.” There was a sudden, noticeable intake of breath across the table from the general. It was Peter who had a terrified look on his face. General Paige looked over at Peter, and suddenly understood what his concern was all about. Peter met

the general’s gaze, looking straight into his eyes. Then, he turned away and whispered, “No, it couldn’t be.” Lt. Colonel Bradford was quick to reach for his hand and attempt to comfort him. General Paige gave Peter a long, serious look. Then he turned back to face the TV screen and the president. “Madam President, I think that we may have come up with a possibility. At this moment, one of our group, Daryl Stark, is in Washington on assignment and has been for the past two days. You may realize that Mr. Stark deals in information at the highest levels, just this kind of information, and has for many years. He has been with my group from the first, has had the opportunity to reveal this kind of information to various persons and groups, and has the possible motivation to do so—to further ingratiate himself to the Washington scene, period. As I mentioned, he has been in Washington long enough to reveal to Charley Whitmore exactly the type and extent of information that was released today by the Herald. “If he is the one, we not only can remove him from the scene but approach the Herald about releasing top-secret government information, threatening them with prosecution for treason and shutting down the newspaper unless they publish a full retraction. We have to get the FBI on this immediately, so they can initiate full surveillance on him, the journalist, and the Herald. Beyond suspecting Daryl as the probably culprit at this time, I really do not have any other suggestions.” “Remarkable, General Paige! Remarkable!” President Hunter asserted, sensing a successful run for reelection already. “What you have just deduced rings true to my earlier statement about the remaining possibility, however implausible, being the one. Let us hope that this can soon end, so that we can regain control over events. I can assure you all that my office will brief the FBI and others about what you have just revealed. Your office will be ed in the near future about this. Again, thank you, General.” “You are most welcome, Madam President. Please keep my office up-to-date on this.” “You have my assurance on that, General.” With that, the screen went blank. The first-floor meeting room went perfectly quiet.

It was early morning in Peter’s room in the barracks, and Sara was still trying to console Peter. It had been difficult so far. He had trouble dealing with the possibility that his former college roommate and supposed best friend might have taken advantage of both him and the country by revealing sensitive information to a Washington journalist, who just happened to be someone that Peter had known years ago in California. The journalist, in turn, had taken advantage of Peter’s kindness and understanding by taking the secret information and breaking a high-profile story involving invading aliens—even though it was such a convoluted and questionable story that, under normal circumstances, few would begin to believe it. “Peter,” Sara quietly asserted, “just because someone takes advantage of a good friend, a sincere and honest person, does not mean that that sincere and honest person is at fault, particularly when that sincere and honest person was certainly not the only one taken advantage of.” Later: “I know that you are hurt. Anyone would be. It’s called a breaking of a bond of trust, and we put a lot of energy and faith into any relationship built on that. Believe me, I know.” Still later: “Are you sure that you are not suffering from not being able to see this for yourself, when General Paige was able to work his way to its logical conclusion, however implausible it may seem? Are you embarrassed? Dear, I would be too. I know that that doesn’t make you feel any better, but we all feel bad, being taken advantage of this way.”

Peter had to it to himself, although it was nearly impossible, that he had suspected Daryl as being the source for the past day or two. He just hadn’t wanted to pursue it. General Paige’s simple deduction had been almost exactly where Peter was heading ever since Charley Whitmore’s latest call. The straw that broke the camel’s back for Peter was when General Paige summed up the characteristics of the source, stressing that the source would have an obsession with information and the use of it, in lieu of money, to buy and sell influence. But when Peter thought about it, it had actually started a bit earlier, when Daryl himself raised the issue of the source out of the blue, toward the end of that important meeting with of the president’s inner staff and cabinet, during the briefing relating to gearing up for the alien spaceship repair. Peter had wondered why Daryl, who had been sitting quietly throughout the meeting, would suddenly raise the issue of the leak. It was apparent now that he had been seeking the kind of information that would give him a sense of how safe he was and how much more time he had to continue to leverage the inside information to which he was privy because of his position inside the general’s group. Despite having to contend with painful feelings and thoughts, Peter was still worried about Daryl and what would happen to him when the hammer fell. According the latest information from General Paige’s office, that moment was probably only days away. The White House had brought in the FBI and had shared information that incriminated Daryl for revealing sensitive information and jeopardizing national security. The word was out that no one was beyond the reach of the government’s security and intelligence-gathering organizations when Daryl Stark’s name was involved. Word was already on the street, as part of the intense FBI investigation, about the rumors involving Daryl Stark, Charley Whitmore, and the Washington Daily Herald. Every outpost in the city that had been haunted by Daryl Stark, every back alley that had seen his shadow, every dark backwater that had sensed his presence received information that Mr. Stark was dangerous to be around, not trustworthy, and would bring close scrutiny to anyone who so much as answered the phone if he happened to call or opened the door if he happened to knock. Everyone who was anyone knew within hours that Daryl Stark was persona non grata and could only cause havoc if allowed to be an insider in anyone’s organization.

Chapter 31

Monday, July 5

O ne other person was feeling the heat: Rodney Hewitt, the City Desk editor for the Washington Daily Herald . He had been unable to enjoy the family outing celebrating the July 4 holiday. By late afternoon on Friday, the first rumors had started to circulate that strongly suggested that running the breaking alien story on Thursday, July 1, was already starting to backfire on the paper. The rumors involved some questionable activities rumbling around in Daryl Stark’s past, in addition to the current situation. Apparently, the FBI had been keeping track of Mr. Stark over the years and had been waiting for him to screw up before bringing down the hammer. The overflow from the current FBI investigation splashed around, and the Washington Daily Herald was slated to take a good deal of the hit as well, based on the premise that it had knowingly encouraged Stark to along something that it knew was sensitive information of a national scope. Mr. Hewitt knew from experience that if the paper was to take a hit, then he was not far behind, for the owners would have already concocted a failsafe position for themselves, built in no small degree by the company’s law firm of Dewitt, Chandler, and Prescott, already feverishly working to create a defense constructed mostly on mounds of unnecessary paperwork. It was eight-thirty on Monday morning, and Hewitt had just hung up his office phone after talking to G. Tyler Jackson, one of the paper’s owners—a very angry owner—who wanted Charley Whitmore to be immediately removed from the premises before the FBI showed up, and kept out. The conversation had not gone well at all. “Rodney Hewitt,” he answered after the second ring.

“Jackson,” the caller said in a clipped manner. “Where is Whitmore?” “Mr. Jackson,” Rodney responded with no small amount of concern, “I think that he’s at his desk, working on a follow-up to the breaking story.” “Stop him!” “What do you mean? I thought that you wanted us to keep hammering away on this. ittedly, Charley doesn’t have any more details then he had before, but there won’t be any less of an impact if we simply repeat most of what was in the breaking story.” “Rodney, there isn’t going to be any more information. Don’t you understand? You told us that what Whitmore had was ‘unimpeachable’ stuff, that the White House was going to be so bowled over by the revelations of cover-up that there would be no way that they could recover, and that it would be a no-brainer for Congress to call for an investigation, leading almost immediately to a call for impeachment of the president.” “But Mr. Jackson,” Rodney whined, “you and the other owners were the ones who decided to put Daryl Stark and Charley together. You were the ones who wanted to run with the story with only Stark’s information, when everyone knew that the story might appear thin and could be explosive for the newspaper. You were the ones who pressured me to go to press with it when I resisted. Hell, even Charley knew better than to risk it, and common sense is not his strongest suit. You were so driven to undermine President Hunter’s first istration in such a way that she either would not stand a chance for reelection or would be only the second president in US history to be impeached. What happened?” “I’ll tell you what happened, Hewitt!” George Tyler Jackson angrily replied. “Our friend Daryl Stark rolled over immediately when confronted by the FBI. Apparently, and for reasons that go way back for Stark, the Feds have been keeping book on good ol’ Daryl for years. They let it go, mainly because operating like Daryl did was so common, that if they started arresting and prosecuting everyone for doing the same thing, this burg would be a ghost town, except for the homeless and the alligators, and even the homeless wouldn’t be around after the alligators ate them. “However, this little incident, when brought to light, pushed several government agencies over the edge, particularly when our lovely White House decided to

push a few buttons of its own. Heaven knows how many past secrets are kept in their archival documents. Anyway, Stark is a ruined man. My partners and I can only imagine what information he has been blabbing to keep him out of jail, although my sources tell me that he’s bound to serve some time. It’s gotten to the point where someone wants to send a message to the troops, and for now, the FBI is the messenger.” “So what are we going to do?” Rodney fearfully inquired, for if Charley was toast at the paper, then what about him? “Make sure that Whitmore is out of there immediately. Insist that he take a couple of weeks’ vacation. Tell him he’s earned it. Then, you take a couple of weeks’ vacation. Your editorial assistant can cover for you. When the pressure is off, we’ll you.” “Don’t you want to know where I’ll be?” Rodney asked, already knowing the answer. “And where will you be in the meantime?” “We’ll you, as I said. And as for me and my partners, we’re already booked for an extended stay at a remote location as yet to be determined. Okay?”

By 0830 hours on Monday, everyone at the desert base in General Paige’s group had been gathered at the morning meeting for the past thirty minutes. The first topic had been the leak of vital information. Some of the details were pending, because it was still an ongoing investigation by the FBI. General Paige had started the meeting with as much pertinent information as was available from the White House at that time. “Good morning, everyone” he began quietly. “I know that this has been a very gut-wrenching weekend for all of us. Believe me when I say that the last thing that I wanted to have happen was to be right about Daryl. However, I am happy that the leak of information has been stopped, at least for the moment. I phrased it that way, because the FBI warned the White House that other leaks are inevitable. Just because this particular one was apparently foiled fairly quickly does not mean that it will act as a meaningful deterrent to anyone else motivated by getting their fifteen minutes of notoriety. “The White House was able to provide details and results of the FBI’s actions to roll back the entire leak operation: The Washington Daily Herald has been put on notice. The paper has to print a retraction in tomorrow morning’s edition, confessing to breaking the alien-invasion story without proper verification that would have ed any of the so-called anonymous source’s assertions. The Herald has to further it that, without that verification, the paper had absolutely no basis for claiming that any aspect of the article was truthful. In addition, the paper’s City Desk editor, Rodney Hewitt, has been fired, along with the journalist who wrote the article, Charley Whitmore. According to the Herald’s board of directors, without the owners present, apparently the city editor and the journalist had concocted much of the story after hearing only very sketchy details from the leaker. The newspaper’s owners, by the way, were unavailable for comment, one having begun a lengthy cruise to the Caribbean; another having jetted to Europe at the same time, to enlarge his already large collection of world-class art; and the third having departed JFK on the red-eye nonstop to China, to supposedly negotiate more favorable pricing on paper and ink. “Now, for our friend Daryl Stark—the man is ruined in Washington, regardless of the outcome of any criminal charges. He is out on bail, pending the further outcome of the ongoing FBI investigation, but charges relating to the ing of

government secrets relating to national security are imminent. He has had to forfeit his port and visa to authorities and wear an ankle monitor. Obviously, the man will no longer be a part of any activities or information regarding what we are doing here. More details to follow, as per the White House—this was from Patricia Thomas, national security advisor for the president. Questions? Comments?” “I really didn’t want to be here this morning,” Peter started, “but Sara convinced me that I wasn’t feeling anything that the rest of you weren’t feeling—Daryl’s actions affected everything and everyone here and beyond, so I couldn’t be alone in this, even if I wanted to be. He was a close friend of mine for over twenty years, ever since college. While we hadn’t been in close that entire time, we thought of ourselves as close friends, or at least I did. What I am trying to come to grips with is what could have motivated him to do this? Certainly, he should have known that it was wrong, in so many ways. Certainly, he should have known that he couldn’t get away with it for very long. I thought that he would have been smart enough to realize that. Now, he has destroyed his life, and our friendship. And most of us go through life with few close friends as it is, so the loss of one hurts.” “I think it was ego gone awry,” Katrina added. “I think that he probably started out doing something that he was inherently good at, believed in, and that Washington needed to be done. In other words, he scratched an itch. However, over time, with more and more people reinforcing a growing attitude that he was indispensible, he convinced himself that he was invincible and that Washington was basically his for the taking. With that, he became possessed to always remain the city’s indispensible source of sought-after information. He was so blinded, thinking that he could do it all, that he did not see his own fallibility.” “Well put, Katrina,” General Paige said. “Now, frankly, we have to put this episode behind us. Only by moving on can we focus on what needs to be done, rather than being stranded in a past of things that have been done, both good and not so good. As you may or may not know, over the weekend we began the process of dismantling the alien spaceship, so that we can gain access to the damaged stabilizer. It now seems apparent that modifications to the hangar will be needed so that we can lift it out and either reinstall it, once repaired, or install its replacement. The aeronautical and astronomical scientists and engineers from this country, Great Britain, and , assisted by those alien crew knowledgeable about the stabilizer, are arriving by midweek to ascertain what

that process will entail. We hope to know exactly what it will take for the aliens to have an operable stabilizer and how to go about achieving that within the next few days but no more than a week. “In the meantime, we must maintain our current status, which will continue with meetings with the alien ship’s commander to make sure that we are on track, as well as meetings with the White House, the t Chiefs, the FBI, individually or together, and whoever and whatever as may be necessary to assure our continued security and secrecy. The multilevel perimeter security around the base that was discussed earlier has been fully put in place. I am still working with General Atkins on the operable rules for granting leave and off-base living arrangements. Much of this will hinge on how long the project is estimated to take, and we will not know that until the engineers and scientists have completed their assessment and have come up with estimates. “I will say that until those estimates come in, I will allow limited leave over the next two weeks for those in this room. It is to be on a need-only basis and not everyone at the same time. Again, this is based on the engineering estimates not coming in until then. All of this is with the approval of General Atkins, of course, but I do not see any problem there. Talk about it among yourselves today; see if you can come up with a workable schedule for General Atkins to approve. That is all for now. Be prepared for the 1300 meeting over at the crew’s quarters in the hangar area with the ship’s commander.” Before the general could continue, Peter motioned with his hand to catch the general’s attention. “Yes, Peter,” General Paige said with some annoyance. “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” Peter said, “but Sara, I mean Colonel Bradford and I found out some time ago, actually after the meeting on the twenty-sixth, that the alien commander’s name is actually Tubrang Gilf, or something that sounds like that, according to the commander. I guess that there really hasn’t been an opportunity to tell anyone until now, so we have continued to refer to the alien as Klingon.” “Tubrang Gilf?” the general replied. “How did you manage to find that out?” “I asked him,” Lt. Colonel Bradford chimed in. “It seemed like the appropriate thing to do, after we had told him our names. We were talking to him as the rest

of you were filing out of the hangar.” “I see,” General Paige replied. “I will make a note of that. I can see now that we should have been making a greater effort to find out those sorts of things all along. But it is particularly important now that we are approaching the repair work. We are, after all, trying to establish better communications between all of us and all of them, so we will refer to the commander by that name from now on, unless it prefers to be addressed in some less familiar way. Did Tubrang Gilf say anything else of significance during this little discussion that you had with him?” “Nothing of particular significance,” Peter quickly said, as he glanced at Sara. He was thinking about Tubrang Gilf’s cautioning them about not disclosing everything that they had discussed during their after-meeting encounter. “Okay,” the general said, letting it go for the moment. “Let me finish by saying that the few engineers and scientists that have arrived so far will be in attendance at the 1300 hours meeting. Katrina, Karl, and Paul, your attendance is particularly required, because you will be our direct liaison with them throughout the repair process. Peter and Colonel Bradford, while the others become more and more involved in that process, I will be relying on you to cover in other areas as needed, and I anticipate you will be busy, particularly with with the White House and other outside government agencies as needed, not to mention the awful likelihood of coordinating press releases and interviews, as necessary. There—I said it: ‘press releases.’ Keep in mind that the FBI warned about the probability of the story breaking sooner rather than later. God help us when that occurs!”

They were sitting in the group office right after the meeting, discussing General Paige’s request for coming up with a leave schedule over the next two weeks. It had been quickly determined that Karl, Katrina, and Paul should work out a schedule for them first, since it would be unlikely for them to do so during the repair. Peter and Sara were content to remain on the base for the time being. They were content just being with one another during the few off-hours they had, particularly when much of that time was shared at night in Peter’s first-floor quarters at the male officers’ barracks, so far without any comment.

Tubrang Gilf observed the dismantling work being done on his ship in the hangar. He had agreed to the work—what choice did it have?—but now had to face the reality of being at the mercy of the humans. It should not have worked out this way. The AKARS were supposed to be the leaders, the rulers, the conquerors. Why did its civilization have to be threatened with extinction and have to take on the hazardous task and risk of finding other suitable planets and relocate? And why did it not relay to the approaching Colony ships to continue to this planet, even though the prospects for the continued survival of its life forms were dismal at best? Perhaps its Colony would have been able to resurrect the life force and future potential of the planet in time. If only its ship had not sustained the damaged stabilizer while still in intragalactic speed as it approached this solar system and then, coincidentally, the loss of the atmosphere generation system. Fortunately, the ship’s environmental control failure had not been connected in any way to the stabilizer and had been repaired in time, while the spaceship was parked outside the hangar, to speed into orbit to conduct the survey of the planet. Now, the rest of the ships in the exploratory fleet and the first of the Colony ships were spanning the reaches of the galaxy at speeds approaching light. Soon, they would be near the two planets that would hopefully serve as a rescue platform for selected of its civilization for eons to come. The hope for the commander of this earthbound Council ship was to quickly complete the repair and then speed toward those planets to its fellow AKARS in reestablishing the dynasty and destiny that had served them well in the past. In the meantime, it would endeavor to on to these incredibly irrational humans the information necessary to help them turn around their selfdelusional and self-destructive ways that were threatening to destroy them. The odds might not be in their favor, but maybe, if they were fortunate enough and time was on their side, they would eventually develop the maturity and instinct to realize that the natural mechanisms that regulate the life and longevity of planets cannot be ignored for very long. And maybe they would actually be able to achieve a miraculous turnaround that would rescue the planet from the almost certain death of most of its life-forms. In that case, the Council might decide to reevaluate this planet once again in

preparation for future habitation, particularly if the population on those two planets should begin to outgrow the available land masses. The past had taught the Council valuable and costly lessons about the debilitating effects of population growth gone out of control. It had been in the process of establishing harsh but necessary measures for regulating that growth, when the greater specter of interplanetary collision forced the Council to take other drastic measures. Soon, the humans would approach the hangar for yet another interminable, mind-wrenching meeting that would continue to accomplish nothing more than to further convince the alien ship’s commander that these life-forms still lacked the mental energy and capacity to display even the most basic multilevel brain functions necessary for advanced second- and third-level processing and retention. They continued to repeat the same limited thought patterns over and over before feeling comfortable enough to proceed onward. Still, Tubrang Gilf considered the human called Peter who had attempted to rescue that hapless crew member in the desert as an exceptional example of its life-forms. It displayed a remarkable level of courage in the face of creatures that it did not and could not understand and who could have been life-threatening. Then, it proceeded to interact with the alien crew with continued courage and surprising insight and curiosity. Beyond that, it had managed to deliver what it promised to deliver—it had the knowledge, insight, and intuitive power to create the necessary mental structure of the future reality and then the processing ability to transform that structure of mental images into a complete, realistic construct. Most humans would have still been at the meeting level, trying to discover how to transfer desire into action.

Daryl Stark sat in his Georgetown condo in the early morning calm, staring out the window at the dome of the Capitol building highlighted by the rising sun. Right now, he ordinarily would have been involved in the Monday-morning Washington shuffle, positioned by now somewhere close to the bureaucratic heartland of the country. The term “workweek” was a misnomer for the type of business conducted in the city, for the movement of money, ideas, and influence was a twenty-four-hour-a-day activity—actually, a necessity. So the typical weekend day for Daryl would have meant essentially the same thing as any other day. Still, the idea of striking out on a Monday morning was significant, only because not doing it meant that something was frighteningly wrong. Things were slipping out of control, and Daryl could not do anything about it. His cell phone was constantly ringing but not from his normal s—not people calling him for assurance that everything was going as planned, or who gratefully thanked him and compensated him because the fix was in, something that only Daryl could have accomplished at that level. Many people who were connected in Washington these days had become connected largely through Daryl’s efforts to open the doors, grease the skids, and close the deal. Now, the callers were from people whose names he only recognized in a few instances, mostly journalists from the local papers and cable channels, although he had been briefly mentioned earlier this morning on one of the local network news channels. He desperately wanted to dress in one of his handmade Italian suits, shirts, and ties, slip on a pair of his made-to-order, thousand-dollar shoes, don his Gucci sunglasses, hop into his Mercedes E430, and the throng of the few, the powerful, and the privileged. He had made the only deal that he could have, after his attorneys and those at the FBI had haggled most of the weekend. According to his people at Harley, Boggs, Sheriff, and Woods, the Feds had the goods on him, and he could only protect his tenuous position, so that there would be minimal incarceration, by fully cooperating. And that meant not only his involvement in disclosing classified information to the Washington Daily Herald, but also a number of other

instances involving possible organized crime violations extending over nearly two decades. Now that the FBI was on a roll—with successful prosecutions in critical, ongoing cases undoubtedly meaning promotions and pay raises for the true team players—there was no stopping the momentum. The thing that hurt was the realization that he had become merely an instrument that others would use to achieve their goals. They would remain in control; he would not. The thing that hurt the worst, however, was that his calls to Peter Harrigan remained going to voice mail. It made Daryl realize the true costs of his misadventures. He did not want to go out alone, with no one caring about him. He realized that his Washington s would not be there; they had only been there for convenience sake in any event. No, he wanted and truly needed someone to talk to, someone with whom he could try to seek understanding, if even that was impossible. His final, desperate thought, as his phone rang yet again, was that this was probably worse than dying alone, but he had not gotten to that stage … yet.

Chapter 32

Tuesday, July 6, through Thursday, July 9

P eople in the surrounding communities had talked among themselves for days now, but now such discussions were shared between the outlying communities. The consensus was mixed as to what was going on. Some thought that the military was simply conducting night war games, and that the aircraft flying overhead in the middle of the night, some of them flying pretty low and many apparently with their navigation lights out, were just part of that. Others were more suspicious, recalling years past when the federal government —pronounced by some of the more laid-back as “guvmint”—boldly denied any involvement in the myriad conspiracy stories that surfaced, had half-lives of perhaps several weeks, and then as quickly disappeared from the public’s shortterm recall—except, that is, for those who mostly pronounced government as “guvmint.” Such a person was Carson Plummer, somewhere around the age seventy-four, but looking at least ten years older than that. Carson Plummer was born suspicious, for he couldn’t honestly a day when he actually believed one thing that the government said. When he began to hear the most recent comments on strange things repeatedly going on during the night, involving aircraft flying around without navigation lights and greater than normal vehicular traffic on the back roads, particularly on the more remote, unimproved, unpaved roads, he knew right away that the government had to be secretly involved. Carson had a deeply ingrained desire, one never fully satisfied, to catch those bureaucrats in the act of secretly conspiring with those alien devils from outer space, on land that the government controlled but the people owned, no less. So strong was the feeling that he immediately began to prepare for the assault on Washington treachery. Within a week, he had acquired enough survival

equipment to completely fill the bed of his 1998 Ford F-150 pickup, with a cap that perfectly matched the truck’s sand-blasted color scheme: remote country primer. He was enough of a known figure in and around the communities of the various states’ borders in the area of the remote base that he had no problem filling his order for a wide variety of gear from a variety of behind-the-scenes, aftermidnight, cash-only operators. Packed in the bed of his truck were two weeks’ worth of cartons that contained boxes of dried goods of various kinds, plus a few canned goods; water enough for at least a week; a few medical supplies; two camouflaged outfits that included hats, pants, jackets, and gloves in both light and dark colors and light and heavy fabrics; guns that included a sniper rifle, a fully automatic assault rifle with two thirty-round clips, two semiautomatic pistols with three extended clips each, and a sawed-off pump shotgun with three boxes of shells; a quick-popup tent, also camouflaged; two infrared goggles; a satellite telephone; and a camera equipped with several lenses, including a telephoto. The last thing to be included in the truck was a recent, detailed satellite map of the area, secretly acquired from a who had former government employment that was never talked about. Although Carson had an intimate knowledge of the area, he needed this particular satellite map, because it showed the area in detail over the last two weeks. The hope was that the map would show critical changes that had occurred in the near term, particularly increased human activity. While he was going out alone, he would be in constant with the person who had provided the map via the satellite phone. Others were involved as well, intent on revealing to the public that their government was currently engaged in activities intended to scrap the Constitution altogether in favor of establishing an oligopoly composed of a few highly placed and powerful individuals, billionaires all of them, who were disgruntled with popular government as currently exercised. According to the rumors, these wealthy gentlemen were intent on usurping the power of the current government, based historically on the separation of powers, in favor of the more concentrated power of the cartel, the thinking being that important and more focused decisions for the country would be made more quickly. Before starting out, Carson had a good idea of what he was looking for: another

secret government military base similar to Dreamland, also known as Area 51. That always seemed to be the way it operated, keeping more and more of its activities away from the casual observation of the country’s citizens, those who paid the taxes and elected the individuals whose job it was to serve those citizens. In Carson’s opinion, it was the patriotic duty of all citizens to reveal any and all guvmint secrets. Just look at what it is trying to do by taking away the Constitution from each and every God-fearing person, he thought, people who made this country strong and have a duty to protect it.

Peter and Sara woke up early Wednesday, even after leaving the base headquarters building late the night before. Yesterday, they had spent the time after the 1300 meeting in the hangar with Tubrang Gilf, trying to anticipate the threatening storm that would loom, if and when the base and its activities were brought to light but probably more “when” than “if.” The afternoon meeting itself had gone relatively well, even though Tubrang Gilf seemed to be on edge, almost to the point of beginning to disagree with the speed and direction of the repair. It suggested a faster and greater effort to get the engineering details for the repair finished, so that the manufacturing of the replacement stabilizer cylinder could get underway. It was assured that, with all of the engineers now in place, the increased pace that it was recommending was imminent. The expectation was that the final engineering specs could be finished by the end of the week, certainly by the first part of next week. Then, those specs would go to those sites around the world with the demonstrated capacity to do the manufacturing of the huge stabilizer cylinder and drive motors. Once those sites studied the specs and worked out their manufacturing schedules and financials, then the bidding process could begin, although there was a growing possibility that the bidding process might be scrapped in favor of assigned contracts to speed up the repair timetable. Both Peter and Sara could the alien commander’s ongoing concern about the humans losing control of the situation by allowing the security aspect to get away from them at some point, unleashing the hordes. After getting so close to that reality with Daryl Stark and Charley Whitmore, both had to take Tubrang Gilf aside after the official meeting to brief him on that occurrence, stressing that the threat had been broken up in time to prevent any specific information from leaking out to the general public. The commander’s response was, at best, guarded. It could only stress that now that its ship had been partially dismantled for the repair, the crew could not readily depart in the event that the general public knew about the secret base and what was going on there. As previously discussed, once that happened, it would prove nearly impossible to have any effective control of the situation, short of putting an army around the base to a depth that would prevent any penetration of the perimeter.

When told that a multi-ringed perimeter had already been established that completely encircled the base, Tubrang Gilf seemed to shrug, although not exactly the way that humans would, and said, “We will have to see how effective that preparation will be when actually challenged on a consistent basis. Keep in mind that is it one thing to repulse an enemy and quite another when it is your own citizens who are storming the gates.” Now that more of the responsibility for handling this kind of situation had been assigned to Peter and Sara, they could not feel relaxed in any way. The assignment had expanded from merely handling necessary press releases and interviews that might require an official response, to being the official bridge between General Atkins (as base commander), the White House, and Tubrang Gilf, the alien commander. The intent had not changed, but the effort to prevent a leak in any way had been stepped up. The consensus was that the country and the world absolutely could not afford to have a real breaking story unravel the secret activities at the remote base. To firm up the mind-set and facilitate that end, a 1000 hours meeting had been scheduled for this morning with the White House, the FBI, and the National Security Agency (NSA). Before that, Peter and Sara were to meet with General Atkins at 0800 hours. They wanted to get started, however, an hour prior to that to go over the latest intelligence from the FBI and CIA that would be waiting for them at the headquarters building.

Back in Washington, Charley Whitmore was just getting up on Wednesday morning when his smart phone started playing “Take Me Out To The Ball Game.” He really wasn’t in the mood to answer the call and was thinking that he really should change the ringtone, despite being a staunch Detroit Tigers fan. Curiosity got the better of him, as he looked at the Unknown Caller readout, so he punched the phone icon. In his current situation, he needed to begin making calls, now that he was suddenly unemployed, instead of avoiding them, although his prospects for finding a job in this burg were currently slim to none. “Hello,” he answered, with a mixture of curiosity and foreboding. “Charley Whitmore?” the unfamiliar voice inquired. “Yes. Who is this?” Charley asked, with an increased feeling of panic. “I guess you could say that I’m your worst nightmare.” “Who the hell are you? Why the hell are you calling me?” “Maybe you’d know who I am if I disguised my voice, like this.” Daryl mimicked how his voice sounded when electronically scrambled. “Holy shit!” Charley yelled into his phone. “Are you who I think you are? And how did you get my personal cell phone number?” “To answer the second question first, you’re the reporter, and you don’t know how to acquire someone’s phone number? As to the first question, that all depends on who you think I am, doesn’t it?” “I’ll tell you what I think. I think that I’m in enough trouble around here, without your calling me, trying to further pull the rug out from under me. I never should have listened to you when you fed me more explosive information, which that I found out later was at the insistence of my former employers. I should have seen the setup. All right! I it that I gave in to you and to my editor to push the story. Something told me not to, but I did it, anyway. So what do you want?” Charley asked, walking out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, where yesterday’s dishes sat in the sink.

“I don’t really know,” Daryl itted. “Feeling sorry for myself, I guess, like you, no doubt. Trying to find some reason for doing something—anything—just to prevent me from doing something that I will later regret, like slitting my wrists. Let’s do lunch. I’ll buy. How about the Strike Zone? It’s a diner next to the stadium. They have lunchtime Happy Hour from eleven-thirty to one o’clock —dollar Bud drafts.” “Now, why would I do that? I don’t know you and have no desire to. What is this, some kind of setup? My employers—make that, former employers— haven’t sliced off enough of my flesh? Now, they want to send you to carve out my insides as well? The answer is no!” “Charley, I’m in the same situation that you are. Actually, worse. You’ve lost maybe a hundred-grand-a-year income. I’ve lost at least ten times that, plus more Washington connections than you could amass in two lifetimes as a journalist. I wish that I could have stashed more of that away than I did. Now, I’m within weeks of seeing it all disappear. I’m a ruined man, Charley.” “Well, I was going to say that it serves you right,” Charley responded, “but it sounds like we both got hammered as a result of trying to break a story of cosmic proportions. But wait a minute, you were the one who supposedly had the scoop on this story, the one with all of the skinny on the alien ship and the approaching aliens who were to invade Earth. What happened there, slick? What happened to all of that bullshit?” “Nothing, Charley. It’s all still there, and it’s not bullshit. I can guarantee you of that!” “So why are you telling me all of this? What can I do about it anyway?” “Still interested in breaking the story? Doing some investigative journalism on your own? Are you interested in being a real journalist, perhaps for the first time in your life? Controlling the story, rather than your editor or the owners, who you it set you up? I’ve got the details, Charley. I have personally been to the base. I don’t know where it is exactly, because we weren’t allowed to see it as we flew in and out. But we can figure it out, Charley, you and me. We can stop the fall that we are in, and only we can do it. But it has to be now.” “Okay,” Charley responded, after pausing for a moment. “ ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ as the old saying goes. What have I got to lose that I haven’t already

lost? You say the Strike Zone by the stadium? How will I know you?” “Don’t worry; I’ll recognize you. Be there for the beginning of Happy Hour. My name, by the way, is Daryl Stark.”

Carson Plummer had started his search for the remote, secret base by driving out into the desert scrub brush just as the sun was rising into the clear Thursdaymorning sky. He began driving on the paved and improved roads as far as he could and then transferred to the unpaved roads depicted on his satellite map until they and the fading sunshine began to run out. Not wanting to venture any farther at night by vehicle, particularly into the areas designated as “Elsewhere Areas” on the map, where any roads that existed would be unimproved, at best, he camped out at sunset. He knew that somewhere out there, even the relatively flat desert wasteland would start to give way to stretches marred by deep, dry arroyos that could suddenly fill up with raging water whenever nature decided to unleash a rare, torrential downpour. Downpour or not, Carson did not want to take the chance of encountering the more hazardous expanses at night. As it was, he would have to park and hide his F-150 soon enough the next day and set out on foot. He wanted to get as close as possible to what he expected to be another secret government base set up to hide the experiments and developments that would increase the government’s ability to spy on and enslave the people. He would hide out after he reached a point several miles from where his predicted the base had to be located, and then approach in the middle of the night, when base security personnel would be more prone to snoozing away the last few hours until sunrise. He needed to bring back undeniable proof of the base and it activities. To do that, Carson would have to thwart the efforts of the inevitable rings of security that would be in place by now, meant to prevent anyone from getting close enough to use telephoto lenses and sensitive audio equipment to capture the nature of the base’s activities. That was why he would have to approach at night, using the night-vision goggles to make his way, and hiding his body heat by wearing a head-to-toe camouflage suit that he had partly designed himself. The secret to it was a small, quiet, battery-powered air conditioning unit, shaped to the curve of the small of his back, that would automatically cool his body heat to that of the ambient outside temperature before releasing it through valves located by his ankles. The battery life of three hours should be enough for him to escape detection while he carefully worked his way to within just a hundred yards or so of the perimeter fence. The last fly in the ointment would be to confuse any motion-detecting equipment

that would undoubtedly be in place as well. His plan to do that involved discreetly releasing chemical “thumpers” in areas away from his movements as a diversion. The thumpers were developed to create the illusion on the monitors that someone or something was moving out there by creating low-volume vibrations similar to those of legitimate moving objects. The chemical reaction would, in turn, dissolve the thumpers after the low-volume sound took place, so that nothing material would remain. After reacting to several of these “movements” and not finding anything suspicious, security personnel would begin to think of them as merely the movements of the natural wildlife. All of this specialty equipment had been secretly developed, ironically, by a quiet group of wealthy people intent on counteracting the intentions and actions of the previously mentioned group of wealthy people imagined to be taking over the country. Carson Plummer was not in the least confused by any of that. His mission was clear: to prove that all of the rumors—starting with a crashed flying saucer at Roswell, New Mexico, in the late 1940s, alien bodies kept in deep freeze at Area 51, and similar incidents over the years included in the air force’s Operation Bluebook—were true but were continuously covered up by a well-orchestrated government conspiracy. And that conspiracy continued to this day. Thanks to my efforts, Carson thought, and the efforts of others, it will soon be revealed for what it is.

Chapter 33

Saturday, July 10

I t was five-thirty a.m. on the one-month anniversary of Peter Harrigan’s alien encounter, and it was going to be hot and dry, just like the weather on that day. There was no celebration scheduled; in fact, no one thought about it, not even Peter Harrigan. The heavy equipment necessary to lift out the stabilizer cylinder from the center of the alien spaceship had arrived overnight, packed in large crates to disguise what was on the four flatbed trucks. This was a critical move, because anyone out there could not have missed the large convoy of large trucks accompanied by vehicles, fore and aft, carrying the engineers and workers experienced in gingerly moving heavy loads, for the cylinder was almost thirty feet long and estimated to weight as much as an Abrams M1A tank. It was also enclosed in a space that allowed for minimal lateral movement of less than one-eighth of an inch. The more difficult part would be sliding the new stabilizer back into its protective cylindrical covering. Several large holes had been opened in the hangar to accommodate the heavy high-rise scaffolding that had arrived on two of the flatbed trucks. Some of the scaffolding would span the width of the hangar horizontally, ed by two additional sections of vertical scaffolding riward from the hangar floor and another vertical rise outside. The two holes cut in the roof were reinforced to maintain its integrity. A heavy-lift crane would then ride rails embedded in the horizontal scaffolding, lifting out the stabilizer cylinder vertically and then running it horizontally until it was positioned outside above one of the flatbed trucks. The stabilizer would be loaded and secured on the flatbed, and then it would be transported either to a point inside the country or to an airport for shipment overseas, for melt-down material in the construction of a new one.

Part of that decision rested on the scientists and engineers on site, who were in the process of determining the alloy composition of the cylinder metal and how it could be worked. Once that was determined, the bidding process for those companies capable of the task would begin, based on the agreed-on engineering specifications. Once all of the bids were in, the highest and lowest bids would be discarded; the rest would be averaged, and the one closet to that figure would be the one selected to do the job. The bidding process for rebuilding the two drive motors—one above, one below the cylinder—was slated to begin when the work process on the cylinder itself was settled and would be bid among companies in the country.

Carson Plummer was settled into his camouflaged position about 250 yards from the fenced-in perimeter of the base. He had been successful in quickly finding the base at about 1:00 a.m., and equally as successful in working his way close to the perimeter, although not as close as he would have liked. The good thing was that his approach had brought him close to a road that appeared to go into the base, for he ended up looking through the zoom lens on his camera at a very dimly lit gate, guarded by several heavily armed guards. In fact, the entire base was dimly lit, with shielded lights at the top of posts and buildings, and windows that appeared to be almost completely covered with blinds and shades. Not much light is allowed to bleed into the night sky—that’s for sure. His greatest success, however, had occurred around 2:30 a.m., when a dark convoy of heavy trucks, accompanied by many smaller vehicles, approached the gate and were ushered in without having to pause for any identification. Carson followed the convoy, once on base, with his telescopic lens, as it snaked across the landscape toward a group of buildings in the distance. The light at that point was still dim and rather opaque, with buildings not standing out clearly from that distance and people hardly at all. The more he concentrated on the activity, the more he was convinced that the covered beds of the trucks had contained large crates, and that those crates were being offloaded onto the tarmac in front of a much larger building. A hangar? he wondered. Not wanting to blow this unbelievably successful mission by being discovered as the darkness waned to morning, Carson Plummer counted his blessings and slowly retreated from his position, back to his truck hidden behind a stand of rocks and covered with desert scrub. He would be out of the area well before sunrise and enjoying a late breakfast at the Cactus Flower Restaurant by ten o’clock. He would plan his next invasion of enemy territory with an emphasis on getting closer, so that he could get the detail that he needed on film, detail that would be undeniable and would serve to unlock the dark secrets once and for all.

They were all in place for the start of the morning meeting in the crew quarters’ briefing room, except for General Paige. He had been approaching the hangar when Lt. Colonel Bradford informed him of an important call from the Pentagon that had just come in. Waiting for his return were Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant; General Atkins; the on-site engineers and scientists; the chief engineer for the crew, who had arrived in the early morning with the repair equipment; and General Paige’s group, less Daryl Stark. Everyone seemed to be relieved that things had progressed to the point where one could consider the stabilizer repair as finally getting off the ground, although it was still difficult to tell what Tubrang Gilf was thinking or feeling. There was to have been a very early briefing involving the repair crew that had just arrived to reaffirm that they fully understood the exact nature of the situation in which they found themselves—in that it involved the actual presence of alien beings and the most stringent application of security measures. That meant that everyone in the room was to be aware that the aliens were of a different breed than humans when it came to displaying what they might be thinking, and that they were not going anywhere off base until what they were here for was accomplished. This meeting’s agenda was then to have included a briefing from the on-site scientists and engineers as to the molecular composition of the metal in the cylinder, which would have a direct impact on the construction of the new one. Then there was to be a somewhat longer presentation by the chief engineer about how the cylinder would be safely removed from the alien spaceship and the new one reinserted, followed by an overview by General Paige of the possible sites— two in the United States, one in , and one in Japan—involved in securing the manufacturing of the new cylinder and when the new cylinder might be on site at the base. That time frame was still a roll of the dice, even after today’s meeting. After a delay of thirty minutes, General Paige entered the briefing room, looking not at all happy. Peter and Sara and the others in the group looked at one another with raised eyebrows. Now what? Peter wondered. General Paige motioned for General Atkins to him, and they stepped out of

the room and into one across the hall, shutting the door behind them. The briefing room started to buzz with speculation. One of the men from the on-site engineering crew made the usual comment about having to “hurry up and wait.” “Well, it doesn’t look good, does it?” Katrina quietly commented. “Anything that you know about?” asked Karl. “I haven’t heard anything recently at my end.” “No, nothing at all,” she replied. “Paul?” He just shook his head. “There was no indication, one way or the other, when I took the call from the Pentagon—just a brusque voice demanding to speak to the general,” Lt. Colonel Bradford added. “Just two steps back, after one forward,” Peter said with a small note of despondence. “However, no one said that this was going to be a walk in the park —or the desert, as it were.” Lt. Colonel Bradford reached under the table, grabbed for Peter’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. When he glanced her way, she smiled and gave him a quick, imaginary kiss. She knew what he had been through—what they all had been through—and how important it was to keep their spirits high. “Someday soon,” as she had told him recently, “this will be over, and you and I can get on with the rest of our lives. Someday, we will be able to take that walk in the desert and fondly this time, because it brought us together.” Generals Paige and Atkins quickly walked back into the room. General Atkins motioned for Lt. Colonel Bradford, Peter, Paul, Katrina, and Karl to follow him back into the other room. “Good morning to all of you,” General Paige addressed those remaining, “particularly those who have recently arrived at the base. Due to pertinent information just made available to me and to General Atkins minutes ago, this meeting is going to have to be postponed until 1000 hours. I apologize for this inconvenience, but the postponement is unavoidable. Thank you.” As the general proceeded back to the room across the hall, the rest of the crowd

walked out with questioning looks on their faces, with the exception of the two AKAR aliens, whose expressions, if any, were inscrutable. General Paige quickly turned around in the hallway to catch the attention of the alien ship’s commander and its assistant, pointing to them to accompany him into the room, where his group awaited. The murmur in the room quickly ended when the general and the aliens entered, everyone now directing the eyes and ears at what the general was going to say next. “It may come as no surprise to any of you,” the general said, glancing at Tubrang Gilf, “that this country’s military operates several satellites orbiting the planet that have the capability to scrutinize the surface of the planet at close range and in minute detail. If not, then you do now.” There was quiet laughter as he said that, Tubrang Gilf and his assistant being the exception. “Last night, one of those satellites in geosynchronous orbit over this area and this base detected what appeared to have been unauthorized individual movement to within one hundred yards from the base’s perimeter at around 0300 hours. Now, the satellite has the capability to pick the license plate number off the back of a vehicle, so this information comes with a high degree of probability of being on the mark. “If true,” the general continued, “the individual may have gotten to a point of being able to spot activity in and on around the base, and may have also been in a position to have seen, up close with a telescopic camera lens, the convoy of trucks and other vehicles as they ed through the southwest gate, including later, the offloading of the crates and equipment around the hangar. We are still trying to figure out how this person was able to get that close. To do that, he or she would have had to through two of the three rings of security around the base. Each of those rings include infrared and motion detectors, as well as constant patrolling of the perimeters. “If a satellite positioned hundreds of miles above the planet’s surface could detect the movement of a single individual, why couldn’t our perimeter security accomplish the same thing on the ground, within just a few yards from whoever it was? We have just found out that there were several instances last night where our motion detector equipment picked up movement between perimeter security rings two and three during that period, but personnel in those areas sent to investigate could not detect a presence, even using infrared. Yet we now know that there was unauthorized penetration in that area around that time frame.”

“General Atkins, I informed you of this occurrence just minutes ago, and General Perez briefed me on this just minutes before that, so this is something that we are going to have to get a handle on immediately. General Perez was told just as soon as the satellite photos were ed and analyzed, about an hour later, which would have put it at about 0600 hours local Washington time. We were advised here as soon as possible, and that includes the White House as well. With that, we should not be surprised if the president herself or her national security advisor, Patricia Thomas, calls for a conference sometime this morning. This is a development that we cannot afford to ignore, and just at the time when we thought that we had this whole area wrapped up tight. But before that occurs, we had better start right here, right now, and try to figure this out, before we have to explain it to President Hunter, sounding like a bunch of school kids in the process. General Atkins? What do you think?” “Well,” the general said, starting off slowly and carefully, “obviously, that individual came prepared with the latest in personal stealth technology, which is out there but extremely expensive on an individual basis and not readily available to the outside. I would gather that he or she had access to the same type and quality of equipment that our military uses, whether it be the army’s Rangers or the navy’s SEALs. We have to possess those same capabilities that enable our troops to get close to enemy positions. “Keep in mind,” General Atkins emphasized, “that we did not set up our security perimeters to catch the professionals. To do that, we would have had to spend a hell of a lot more money and involve an army battalion. We are set up to prohibit the greatest number of people from even getting out of their vehicles, as they try to get close to the base. That suggests that this individual had s who may have known the type of security that we had in place—s who were well connected and well heeled in order to successfully challenge the high level of security that we have, which is the best, under the circumstances. Let’s face it; this person appears to have been highly trained and well equipped, just like one of our snipers, trained to get up close and remain undetected for extended periods of time.” “It is hard to argue against that,” General Paige responded, “that is, until President Hunter or her NSA starts to insist that we should have known that eventually someone would send the professionals against the best, under the circumstances. Fortunately, from now on, we will have a direct, real-time feed from the satellite that we will be able to monitor from this base. If the individual

returns—and he or she no doubt will—that person will not be able to penetrate our security, let alone get as close as or closer than the first time.” “Any comments or criticisms?” General Paige asked. “Tubrang Gilf? Surely you cannot be happy with this breach of security.” The alien commander paused, looked briefly at everyone present without revealing its sentiment about the breach one way or the other, and then began to click a response. “General Paige, I am certainly disappointed. Since you have probably never encountered this exact situation before, with your citizens trying to penetrate a hastily created security system, it is understandable that you would underestimate the intensity and capability of their attempts. You made the mistake of thinking that their attempts would be amateurish and automatically fail, even with a less-than-adequate system in place. “Be thankful that they succeeded at the very beginning, even though you discovered it after the fact, because you have learned a valuable lesson early, rather than having to learn from it after it was too late to be of benefit. Now, I would set the trap, let them think that they can continue to successfully penetrate even to the center of the base, and then spring the trap, and you will have caught the ‘professionals,’ as you call them. And you will have sent them a message. After that, the rest should be easy, when it comes to assuring that the base can operate with complete confidence. Let your president know, when she s you, that you have things completely under control.”

The rescheduled 1000 hours meeting started on time, with everyone occupying the same space that they had previously, including General Paige standing in the front of the room. “Welcome once again to the base,” the general said, “which I heard referred to as Shangri-La as I was walking through the hangar, a name obviously given this base by someone here who needs to get out more. However, the infamous Area 51 was often referred to as Dreamland, so perhaps this secret base should have its own name, even though that was the same name given by President Franklin Roosevelt to his hideaway in remote Maryland, until it was renamed Camp David by General Eisenhower when he was president.” With that, the meeting began. The posted agenda went off without a hitch. The on-site scientists from the countries involved in the repair explained that their analysis of the cylinder’s composition had revealed that it was made up of a metal alloy composed of some of the same types of heavy metals found not just on Earth but throughout the universe. They went on to further explain that the tremendous explosions of the large dying stars, stars millions of times larger than ours, that supernova as a part of their dying cycles, create these metals in the final fraction of a second before they explode. The explosions then instantaneously throw these heavy metals billions of light-years into space, where they are then incorporated into the formation of other celestial bodies and galaxies, such as ours, over additional billion-year time frames. The end result was that the process of manufacturing a new stabilizer cylinder would be a no-brainer, for advancements in metallurgy over the last several decades—during the demands of the space program in particular—had given the United States, and several other industrialized counties, the capacity to produce metals that were stronger, lighter, and capable of withstanding intense heat and extreme stress without failure. The chief engineer for the newly arrived construction gang rose from his chair and introduced himself as Allan Stewart. He then explained the very delicate process of assembling the scaffolding over and around the spaceship and then positioning the very large, heavy crane on the scaffolding. The next step was to get that crane to delicately remove the damaged cylinder from its enclosure and

then move smoothly and precisely in fraction-of-an-inch segments across the scaffolding—one slight miscalculation or hiccup could result in disaster. The last thing that anyone wanted to see was the cylinder, old or new, jammed in its enclosure (also a cylinder) as it was removed or installed. Again, only the barest fraction of an inch separated the cylinder walls from the sides of the enclosure. “In any event,” Mr. Stewart went on, “the construction of the scaffolding is already underway and will be completed by Monday at the latest.” General Paige wrapped up the meeting with an overview of the possible sites— two in the United States, one in , and one in Japan—involved in securing the go-ahead for the manufacturing of the new cylinder. All of the sites were prepared and ready to go, pending the outcome of the bidding, although this idea was still pending due to logistical constraints, and the delivery of the old cylinder to the winning city. If that was in the United States, then shipment to the winning site could be an overnight proposition, for the recycled cylinder could be shipped by wide-body military jet, a C-17, which would be on base standing by. If the old cylinder had to be flown overseas, the time frame would be a little longer but not by much. “In any event, that time frame is still a roll of the dice,” he explained, “until the final bid is awarded. I hope we will have a better idea by mid-month.”

At ten o’clock Saturday morning, Carson Plummer was sitting in the Cactus Flower Restaurant, finishing the Breakfast Deluxe. He normally didn’t eat such large breakfasts, but this was a special occasion. He was back from a successful foray into the desert wilderness in the middle of the night, to that remote, secret military base that he just knew was out there to the northwest, just shy of the rise to the Grand Tetons. He had proven to himself that the government was indeed up to its old tricks when it came to operating outside the Constitution. It’s only a matter of time before no one will be safe from the continued efforts of those Communists in Washington, he thought, to enslave the people, taking over all free enterprise and the right of the citizens to “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” He was pretty sure that somewhere along the way, the aliens were involved. He’d been told years ago that the Roswell crash was actually a crash of an alien flying saucer operating on a test flight out of Area 51 and that the base had been turned over to the aliens to develop advanced technology for the government. Well, he would show them. Tonight, he would return to get a closer look at what was happening. He needed to get clearer pictures that would be convincing to others, so that the lid would be blown off the cover-up. His attention was drawn to a young man, obviously a city slicker from back East, who had been trying to drum up conversations with people at the counter. He kept asking certain questions about possible suspicious goings-on over the past several weeks and had anyone noticed? He would then say that he had heard rumors to that effect and that he was just following up to confirm them one way or the other. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered Carson, except that the man wouldn’t stop trying to get the customers to talk to him. He seemed to be a nice enough young man, but there was something about him that raised the hackles on the back of Carson’s neck. What if this man is with the government out at that base and is nosing around, trying to find out if the locals suspect anything? That would make sense, if they were concerned about keeping things on the base secret from those living around its perimeter. Oh, damn! Carson thought. I guess he’s bombed out at the counter. Now he’s

looking around at the booths, and he’s walking over to my booth. “Hey, old-timer, I’ve got a question for you,” the man said. “Have you got a second or two?” “Who you calling ‘old-timer,’ you son of a bitch? How dare you come into this town, bothering honest Americans just minding their own business? They don’t know nothing about anything unusual going on here at night. So pack it up and move on, back to your government buddies, before someone throws you out on your ear!” “Well, that sounds like pretty good advice,” the stranger responded, “except that I don’t believe a word that you’re saying. You see, I never mentioned anything specifically about unusual activity at night to anyone up there at the counter. I was simply asking about unusual activity, period. You’re the first and only one to bring up the nighttime activity, which tells me something is going on. “Look, I apologize for calling you that. It wasn’t meant as a putdown. I was just trying to be friendly in a low-key way. You are no spring chicken, you know. In fact, you look like you’ve spent some time out there in the desert, with your arms and hands wrinkled and darkly tanned, as well as your face and neck. Again, no criticism in any way. Just an observation. It tells me that you probably know the area pretty well.” Carson didn’t say a word. Obviously, this youngster was smart enough to pick up on his comment about night activity and observe that he looked like he spend a lot of time outside, probably exploring in the desert. “Okay, I’m a journalist from Washington, D.C. My name is Charley Whitmore. I’m out here following up on a story about a secret military base out in this neck of the woods. In fact, one of my sources has actually been out to this base recently! He doesn’t know where it is located exactly, because every time he flew in or out it was at night, as in those night-time operations that you just mentioned. I work for a major paper in Washington, one that is constantly investigating questionable government activities and asking the tough questions that help to keep those people on their toes. The paper has won numerous awards for investigative journalism, which is what I do.” “Well, fella,” Carson said with a different tone than earlier, “I was going to threaten you by telling you I would take you outside and carve you up a little bit

if you didn’t move out of my face, but I may just change my mind about that. How long are you here for?” “I guess as long as it takes. You see, that source I mentioned and I are working this story together. We want to break it open, so that the country knows what the government is secretly up to without the people’s knowledge, including an alien invasion that may still be a real threat and an alien spaceship that crashed in this area somewhere and is being repaired by the government. We need some hard information, however. Washington is not about to give it up. Hell, they are the ones who are trying to keep it under cover. We tried that and got stung, to be frank with you. Can you or anyone else around here help us?” Carson held out his weather-aged hand. “Hi, my name is Carson Plummer. What’s yours, again?” “Charley Whitmore, Carson. Nice to meet you,” he said sincerely, as he shook the old-timer’s hand. “I think that we can do business, Charley. It seems that we think the same way and want to achieve much the same thing. I think that we can help each other. Let me tell you what I’ve been up to that I think will be right up your alley.”

Chapter 34

Sunday, July 11

P eter and Sara spent a short, quiet period on this Sunday morning relaxing in his male officers’ barracks room prior to returning to the headquarters office for yet another day. It had been a very hectic week of finally dealing with the beginning of the alien ship repair and an apparently successful incursion of the security system surrounding the remote military base, possibly revealing information valuable to anyone intent on publicly breaking a story that could be potentially damaging to the country and the world. Yet both were increasingly hopeful for their future. It had been a month since Peter’s encounter with the alien ship. In that time, the world had escaped a probable alien invasion, and the alien ship now was perhaps a few months away from being repaired, at which time the crew would be able to depart Earth. Peter and Sara now were taking time to think about their future together, while still engaged in the day-to-day struggle to keep it all together on a desert island that was a remote military base. Part of the problem was that the locations of Peter’s career and Sara’s career were a continent apart—his in California at Stanford, hers in Washington, DC. Both itted that their careers were important to them but not more important than finally replacing painful loneliness with the happiness that they felt being together. They acknowledged that the realization did not automatically make the dilemma go away. They realized that new love, alone, did not guarantee a solution to anything. For the time being, they would sleep on it; that is, whenever they could keep their hands off one another so that they could actually sleep. “You know, dear one,” Sara whispered quietly to Peter, as they lay in bed, not wanting to get up but knowing that they must, “all of this will probably end for us overnight. One day, you and I will be busting our butts, as we have been

doing for weeks, and the next morning when we wake up, the base will be completely deserted, no one else around for miles. We will have missed it all, because you would not have let me get out of bed to see what all of the noise and shouting was about outside, keeping me in bondage as your sex slave, thank you very much! It will just be you and me—and Chance jumping on the bed because he wants to go out. Hey! That’s the solution to our career problem! We’ll just retire and stay right here. We’ll have to fix the place up a little. Move some walls, put in hardwood floors. A fireplace over there in the corner. An extralarge, jetted bathtub and a Jacuzzi outside.” “I’m sorry,” Peter replied, “were you talking to me? I was too busy working out the details of that ‘sex slave’ thing.” “Just , sweetheart, that I outrank you, as long as we are on this base. You start ignoring your soul mate this early in the relationship, and I will assign you to the most horrible duty to be found—digging latrines with a toothpick.” “Phew! And here I thought you were going to say ‘covering up latrines with a toothpick.’” With that, Sara let out a mock scream and quickly rolled over on top of him. The struggle involving a jumble of arms and legs quickly turned into something involving moans and groans.

Daryl jumped for the phone as soon as it started ringing. He hoped it was Whitmore with something important. He had called Charley Whitmore out of desperation, trying to come up with an answer to stop his dreadful fall from grace. The years of successfully stroking and smoothing all of the high-intensity egos strutting around Washington had taken a talent that only he possessed at that level. How could it have gotten to the point where he was now in this frightful freefall—without that “golden parachute” that is an integral part of any American success story? And where were all of those Washington egos now? Those for whom he had personally opened the doors to the deals that enabled them to achieve the great American dream? Did they really think that they possessed the talent to do it without him? My God! They owe me something! Now, no one would return his calls. He couldn’t even get beyond the recorded messages. “Charley, talk to me!” he said, as he read the name on the caller ID. “Daryl! You won’t believe what is going on here! And you said that I had to get out and do some real journalism, as if I didn’t already have the talent to dig up a story.” “So, you idiot!” Daryl yelled into the phone, sounding like he was losing it. “What do I have to do to get you to tell me what you’re talking about? If I hadn’t kicked you in the ass to go out to the location of the story and learn how to be a real journalist, you would still be back here crying in your lite beer, for Christ sake!” “All right, Daryl, calm down, will you?” Charley verbally jumped back into the phone. “I found someone who has actually been out to the base. Can you believe it? He showed me photos taken at night that seemed to show base activity involving the offloading of heavy equipment in front of a hangar, and—” “Yes!” Daryl loudly interrupted. “That would be the hangar where the alien spaceship was going to be repaired. A stabilizing device onboard malfunctioned, and the ship had to land in the desert, and then it was moved to the base. Charley? What do you mean, ‘seemed to show?’” Daryl suddenly asked. “Either the photos showed that, or they didn’t!”

“He was too far away, even with a telephoto lens, to get the clear, convincing details that would show that undeniably. He knows what he saw. He says that it’s a no-brainer for him to go back out there tonight and get both photo and video evidence, up close and personal.” “What’s this guy’s name? And what’s in it for him?” “His name is Carson Plummer, and all he wants to do is explode the government secrecy that has frustrated him for decades. His problem with the government goes way back to the supposed alien crash—or I guess it was two crashes—way back in 1947 near the Roswell Army Air Base in New Mexico. He says that the government has been lying to us about that and other things kept secret from the public all along. I told him that I worked for a big Washington newspaper and that we could break the story big time all over the country. All we needed were the pictures and video and his written, notarized statement as to what he saw and who he talked to, and the result would be a huge embarrassment for the government and the military. Heads would fall, thanks to him!” “Charley,” Daryl said quickly, “do you have his phone number? Some way of ing him before he leaves for the base tonight?” “Yes, we traded phone numbers. Why?” “Why?” Daryl responded incredulously. “You have to go with him, for God’s sake! Don’t you see? You’re the one breaking the story, not him! We need your report from the scene, not his! You are just like those reporters embedded with the troops, as the army advances against the enemy. Your story will have much more impact and appeal coming from the man in the middle of the action. Would you rather be the one interviewed by the news shows for breaking the story or someone named Carson Plummer?” The hesitation at the other end of the line was palpable. Daryl started to wonder who this guy at the other end of the line truly was. A real journalist would be champing at the bit to be on the base where the government’s secret activity was taking place. No wonder he ended up working for that rag, the Washington Daily Herald. Hell, if I was there, I would be interviewing the alien commander, for God’s sake. What did Peter call him? Klingon? “Charley! Listen to me. You have to be there. The alien commander of the ship and its crew are on that base. If this guy, Carson Plummer, can get himself on the

base, he should be able to get you there as well. Make him an ‘offer he cannot refuse.’ Do you really understand me? You need to bring back something that is undeniably alien; otherwise, the government, the military, can just insist that whatever was occurring at the base that night was just normal military operations in preparation for a secret, t military exercise.” “Yeah, you’re right, Daryl,” Charley answered sheepishly. “I guess that I just wasn’t aggressive enough to push for that. I didn’t want to push him away by trying to control the situation right off. I suppose that any investigative journalist would have thought of that first thing, though. Okay, I’ve got to go, if I’m to catch him in time to jump on board this junket. I’ll let you know as soon as I do, if it’s a go. Talk to you!” With that, the connection was broken. Daryl held the phone, shaking his head. If it wasn’t for me or people like me, he thought, mankind would still be chewing on raw mammoth bones and dying off in their twenties.

The Sunday morning meeting brought the announcement from General Paige of a significant change to the repair program. “The White House announced this morning that the bidding process for the manufacture of the new stabilizer cylinder had been scrapped. Some thought that it was a bad idea to begin with,” the general said, as he glanced toward General Atkins, “but the idea was to let market forces determine the most cost-effective approach. Part of the problem, obviously, was that the number of countries was limited to only five, due to the technological requirements for dealing with such high-strength metal alloys. Such alloys require extremely high operating temperatures, which limited the number of bidding companies within those countries who can handle that, plus working with such a large device, to just six. “When it came to the actual bid, however, that the decision was made to use the European method, which called for the highest and lowest bids to be thrown out, and the remaining bids to be averaged, with the company coming closest to that average figure being awarded the bid. That brings us to the second problem, which is that all of the bids came in so remarkably close to one another that two bidders statistically tied. Rather than take up valuable time with another bid, with the pressure on to effect the repair as quickly as possible, the decision was made to award the manufacturing of the cylinder to the one company with the tying bid located in the United States. The name of that company will remain highly classified throughout the manufacturing process, which will take approximately three months, according to the just-released estimate. That includes shipment time to and from the US company site as well. “Manufacturing the cylinder in this country will obviously reduce the time and extra cost to transport the old and new cylinders from this country to another and back. Problem number three, which I alluded to, is that everyone now wants the manufacturing process to begin yesterday. That, of course, is impossible, but it does put the pressure directly on us to make it happen quickly. The outside expectation, meaning the White House, is that the cylinder to be recycled will be out of here within forty-eight hours. I have spoken to the chief engineer for the construction company, Allan Stewart, to come up with his schedule quickly. His response was to let me know that the crew that showed up with him was here primarily to erect the scaffolding around the alien ship, thinking that the actual removal of the cylinder was still some time away. His point is that the crew that will actually handle the removal and insertion of the cylinders is still back in

New York. He has already notified them, but it will take another day, probably two, for them to get here, particularly with the security clearance procedures.” Karl Holzhauer spoke up. “General Paige, how is it that all of the bids came in so close to one another? Yes, there were few bidders, but one would think that enough of a disparity would have occurred for one bidder to rise above the others.” “Good question, Karl, one that I had to ask the White House. Apparently, Secretary of State David Boyle suspects some industrial espionage may have taken place, with corporate spies trying to ferret out what the competing companies were planning to bid. I see no other reason why the bids were that close to one another. Statistically, it is highly improbable in a closed system. All of the bids were stacked pretty much along the mean value, well within any normal, statistical deviation. So somehow, the bidding companies seem to have been privy to what the others were planning to bid. If true, and I suspect that it is, the result only benefited this country, for our facilities are closer and more convenient, all the way around.” “So this being a Sunday on your solar calendar,” Tubrang Gilf said, the clicking noise issuing without a pause, “may we assume that the schedule now might permit the scaffolding to be in place in the next two days—Tuesday—followed by the arrival of the crew that will then lift the damaged cylinder from the stabilizer unit on that day as well? If we assume again that the cylinder should have been removed within the next two days—Thursday—then it should be in place at the manufacturing facility within the next two days after that, no later than Saturday, about a week from now. Is that a fair assumption at this point?” “Yes,” General Paige replied, with only a slight wrinkling of his eyebrows, “I believe that your projected schedule sounds reasonable. Things can certainly occur to alter it somewhat, but it certainly lines up with what the chief engineer for the construction crew has mapped out.” “Very well,” Tubrang Gilf replied. “Once the damaged cylinder is underway to the manufacturing facility, I will begin to prepare a schedule to inform and advise your government, and others as necessary, about the programs that will have to be initiated as soon as possible to address the issue of your planet’s health. , I did not promise that your civilization would be able to forestall the devastating developments already imbedded in your future. I only

said that there was a possibility, depending on what the final results from the environmental survey was, that it might be reversible. “Those results have been finalized as of yesterday. Those results do suggest a reasonable probability that the more severe aspects of the predicted climate change can be avoided, but only if the actions to do so are implemented immediately. Once put in place, they are to remain indefinitely, which means an almost complete turnaround from your actions of the past. Even then, most of your population will suffer enormously, but most may survive. The alteration, in other words, will be a painful one for you. My own civilization’s experience had certain destructive aspects to it, and the outcome was not clearly obvious for many generations. For you, it will be the same, in all probability.” “Thank you, Tubrang Gilf,” General Paige responded. “We will be most grateful for your counsel on this.” Almost everyone in the room displayed approval. “It now appears that we finally have our marching orders. As was anticipated, we are now in a period where everything that we have predicted and planned for must come together flawlessly. This will take a prodigious effort on everyone’s part. Failure is not an option, as the folks from NASA will tell you. But I am confident that we have done our homework on this project, and given the professionals who are on board, I know that we can pull this off. Okay, everyone, back to work!”

Chapter 35

Monday, July 12th

C harley Whitmore was starting to wonder why he had agreed with Daryl Stark to accompany Carson Plummer on this second foray into the nighttime desert wilderness to the secret base. The truck ride with Carson, over terrain that certainly was not worthy of being called a road, was bad enough. Later, as they were hiking over that same landscape, composed of cactus, prickly brush, and boulders, he was sure at one point that coyotes were going to attack the two of them, despite Carson’s assurance that the coyotes were more afraid of them than the other way around. Then came the time when they had to don the camouflage gear that, according to Carson, would disguise their heat trail, so that they could not be picked up by infrared sensing equipment. Now with all of that gear on, Charley felt that his life would end this night by his disappearing inside his camo suit in a pool of stinking sweat. The gear would simply collapse and—poof!—Charley would be gone, his DNA mixing with that of other sweat from previously deceased persons foolish enough to put it on. After walking into the darkness for an interminable time, Charley could sense that Carson had stopped and dropped to the ground. Charley did the same. At least he could rest while his life dripped away. Carson spoke into the intercom system that linked them together. “By God, man,” Carson hissed into the journalist’s ear, “if I’d have known that I was going to have to almost carry you on this mission, I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to it. You could have kept your ten grand. Now, you listen. We’re close to the base perimeter, meaning that any time now, we can start encountering the patrols. In fact, I’m surprised that we haven’t seen any yet. But that’s okay with me. The fewer the patrols, the better. The test is going to be cutting the inside perimeter fencing. It didn’t look that formidable when I was here the other night,

so I don’t anticipate any problem there. “However, once inside the fencing, things will start to get dicey as we get closer and closer to the center of the base. Lucky for this camo gear, with the conditioned exhaust air, to hide from the infrared, and the chemical thumpers to confuse the motion detectors. We should be able to get in close enough for some great shots, as long as we can stay in the shadows as we approach. You ready? Actually, it’s too late at this point for you. I’m going in, and so are you. I’m not having you blow the cover for both of us, so stay close and quiet.” With that, Carson rose to a low crouch and moved ahead cautiously. Still no indication of any soldiers from the base out here. They weren’t going near the gate this time, so they didn’t have to worry about the guards spotting them. Soon after ing the spot where he’d hidden the first time, they came to the fence. It appeared to be the typical chain link that would normally be used for perimeter security, which meant that the cutters that he brought would make short work of the links’ thickness. After making the cuts, it took some time to get Charley through the low-level opening. He found it difficult at first to crawl through on his stomach, as the suit kept getting caught on the sharp edges of the cuts. Eventually, they made it through without, it seemed, damaging the suit and raising any alarms. Again, Carson was a little leery about getting this far in without seeing or sensing something, particularly with this Whitmore ‘fella’ thrashing about. Not seeing any reason to stop and go back, he made a forward motion with his arm, and they advanced further toward the heart of the base. They were able to use a drainage ditch as cover for enough time to get close to the buildings at the edge of the base proper. The hangar loomed large, even at this distance. Both were alert now, for they could clearly see base personnel moving about, silhouetted by the muted light coming from the inside of the hangar. They seemed to be moving parts or pieces about, stacking whatever they were both inside and outside the hangar. The more that they concentrated on the hangar, the more an unmistakably large object took shape within the structure. It had the strange shape, from their position, of an enormous oval hanging in the air, as if suspended from the ceiling. Then, they noticed that a portion protruded out of the hangar, suddenly

giving it a three-dimensional perspective. Now, moving figures could be observed disappearing into and emerging from the object. Carson whispered to Charley, who had drawn up even, “A spaceship … it’s a spaceship.” Charley could now make out the entire profile of the ship as it rested inside the hangar. What he began to realize was that the figures maneuvering around the ship were humans of normal size and much smaller creatures, also walking on two legs. As they walked under the direct lighting, Charley clearly saw that their heads and eyes were proportionately larger than their slight stature would suggest, and they had a decidedly gray color. They operated with quick movements; their bodies seemed to bend in a variety of ways to accommodate the task. Just as he was getting somewhat accustomed to this new reality, another, much larger creature emerged from under the bottom of the craft. This one moved more ponderously, yet with ease. Its actions seemed more deliberate and authoritative. It moved from work area to work area within the hangar, as if not just observing but also approving of the nature of the activities. As the overhead lighting highlighted it, Charley noticed that it was well-muscled and that its color was a slight green hue. Long strands of something streamed from its head, creating a dreadlock appearance. Its facial features were not as clear to him, but Charley got the impression of this creature as a predator of some sort. “Carson,” Charley whispered toward his partner, “we have to get closer.” “Closer? Are you nuts? I’ve got all of the detailed photos and video. We’ve got to get out of here before some patrol spots us. We’ve been too lucky as it is.” “Carson, my friend Daryl was right. We absolutely have to get something substantial that seals the deal about all of this being a clear government cover-up of collusion with aliens. Otherwise, we’ll have to contend with those who will maintain that your photos and video have been computer enhanced. Let’s move to our right another fifty feet; the drainage ditch will still cover us. I can get over to that stack of material in the shadows just outside the hangar without being seen. If there’s something that looks out of this world, whatever it is, I’ll get it and stuff it in my backpack. But we have to move now!”

Charley moved off. Carson had no choice but to follow. I don’t want this idiot to get caught and start singing his heart out to these people, telling them all about what we’re up to and naming names in the process. Charley quickly reached the spot adjacent to the edge of the hangar. No one seemed to be around. He pointed to Carson to stay put, and then he climbed out of the drainage ditch and approached the material stacked in the shadows. As he neared it, he couldn’t really identify what it was. He lifted part of what appeared to be a metal . It was very light. He tried to bend it but couldn’t. It was obviously too large to fit in a backpack. He knew that he shouldn’t stick around any longer, but he still needed to bring back that very important alien souvenir. Charley made the decision to look around the corner of the hangar to see if it was clear for him to take a look inside. Just as he turned the corner, he almost literally ran into the large alien creature standing in the light outside the hanger. It looked directly at him with those predator eyes. In a panic, Charley turned to run, and then saw Carson approaching the hangar in the arms of what had to be military police. He was struggling mightily but was no match for the beefy men. “Gentlemen,” Tubrang Gilf clicked in the night air, “welcome to our base. We have been expecting you. Please, this way.” And he proceeded into the hangar toward the doors leading to the crew’s quarters. Charley followed without question or hesitation. Carson had to be carried kicking and screaming every epithet invented by imaginative minds. Inside the hangar, both were stripped of their camo gear and every other item, except for their personal clothing, and then searched before continuing on. They arrived at one of the crew briefing rooms and entered. Charley saw that many others were in the room, seated in large, padded metal chairs, all lined up facing the front of the room. The large alien creature stood at the front, along with Charley and Carson, still under the control of the MPs. “Thank you, Tubrang Gilf,” said a man in uniform, who had turned toward the door after speaking to someone in the back of the room. He motioned for Charley and Carson to sit at a table set up in the front of the room. The alien creature went from the front to a hammock-like device along the wall and climbed into it. Charley sat and Carson was forced into his seat. The guards remained directly behind, ready for action.

“Gentlemen, you have reached your sought-after destination, a secret base in the middle of a desert. Congratulations. That is the good part. The bad part is that you will remain on this base in the middle of the desert for the time being. We cannot allow you to depart the base, so you will not depart the base. That goes for you, Charley Whitmore, as well as for your partner in crime here.” At that point, Charley noticed Peter Harrigan sitting toward the back of the room next to a woman dressed in uniform. Peter was looking at Charley, but his expression was noncommittal. That explained how they knew his name but what about Carson’s? Did they have any idea about his identity? “You bastards can’t hold us against our will!” Carson screamed. “It’s against our constitutional rights to be held without cause. Plus, we get to make one phone call, and I’m gonna call my lawyer and sue your asses off!” Carson, his arms folded, sat glowering at General Paige, who was glancing at some items that had been handed to him by one of the guards. “Mr. Carson Plummer—I see by your driver’s license—you have illegally entered a restricted area with the obvious intention of carrying off certain highly secret information, with the intent, no doubt, of publically divulging said highly secret information. You were also found to be carrying a weapon on your person while on this base without permission, even if said weapon found on your person is yours to legally carry in this state, and that will be checked out, I assure you. You must have on your person a Right to Carry permit in order to do so, which we did not find on your person. In addition, before you are legally allowed to enter a military base, assuming that you seek legal entry through one of the base’s guard posts, you are required to divulge that you are carrying a weapon, if you are, and then you are required to surrender that weapon to the base MPs at the gate, picking it up on your way out. “Since you did not legally enter this base, and since you did not surrender the weapon that you were carrying, we have the absolute right and obligation to hold you until these things can be straightened out. Now as for you, Charley Whitmore, you are also here illegally to obtain highly classified information with the intent of releasing that information to the public. You also did not endeavor to enter the base legally through the gate and be granted permission to do so. Now, it is academic whether or not you would have been granted that permission, but you did not legally seek it. At least you were not carrying a gun when you decided to illegally cross the perimeter of the base. Your disposition

will also have to wait until we can straighten out the details. Until then, you both will be confined to quarters and kept under guard. The irony now is that otherwise, you may try to sneak off the base, and we cannot allow that at this time. Any questions?” The two were completely silent, although it was certain that both were thinking very hard about the predicament they were in. Finally, Carson Plummer spoke up. “You knew we were coming, didn’t you? Who told you? It couldn’t have been anyone around here, because they all pretty much dislike the guvmint coming out of the gate. They wouldn’t have turned us in.” “No, Mr. Plummer, we did not know that you, specifically, were coming, and we are surprised to find Mr. Whitmore with you, to tell you the truth. But we did suspect that whoever was on the base the other night would be planning a return visit soon, sure in his mind that he would be able to gain access once again without detection. That was you the other night, just outside the fence, wasn’t it?” “Could be,” Carson replied. “I don’t have to answer any questions without my lawyer present. Don’t you have to read us our rights if we’re going to be charged with something? You know, Miranda and all that?” “Not on a military base, Mr. Plummer. While you do have rights, even on a military base, they are not exactly the same as in the civilian world. We can hold you for a nonspecific amount of time in the interests of national security, which certainly is the case. Let me introduce you to our distinguished guest from far away, Tubrang Gilf. Tubrang Gilf drives the spaceship that you see parked in our garage. Right now, it’s getting on oil change, so to speak. When that is completed, the commander and its crew will depart for a remote part of our galaxy. We all will spend our time on this base or close to it until that occurs. After it occurs, you will be released to tell your story, without your pictures, without your video. Heaven knows, however, if anyone will believe your story. The base will remain a restricted area, under heavy security until further notice, no doubt fanning the flames of conspiracies for many years to come.” “I have a question for your visitor,” Carson said. “What is the story behind the crash of two alien saucers out in New Mexico back in 1947 at Roswell? It’s been

bugging me for most of my life.” Tubrang Gilf looked from Carson Plummer to the general and back again. If it could have shaken its head in confusion, it would have. The clicking sound startled Carson and Charley for the first time, the noise around the hanger having covered it up earlier. “I do not know to what you are referring. I know nothing about a connection between this Roswell, as you expressed it, and a Council spaceship in that time frame.” “Tubrang Gilf,” General Paige jumped in, “what Mr. Plummer asked about has been speculation for many years. Part of the tale revolves around alien spacecraft that also crashed in the desert, and alien survivors being taken to another secret base nearby called Area 51. The essence of the story is years of government cover-up of the alleged occurrence.” “I have a question, General, for Charley Whitmore,” Peter chimed in. When General Paige turned to acknowledge him, Peter stood up and spoke. “Charley, I know that somehow Daryl Stark is involved in this. I can feel it. Does he know that you’re out here looking for verification of your story?” Charley hesitated, not really sure, under the circumstances, how he should answer the question. Could what he revealed be used against him in a court of law? “Yes, Peter, he is,” he finally conceded. “I never would have thought about coming all the way out here, primarily because I wouldn’t have known where ‘here’ would be. Only Daryl knew that this base actually existed and had a good idea where, although not exactly. I flew out to an airport as close as I could get and started my search. Luckily, I ran into Carson here within just a few days. Daryl was the one who insisted that I had to go out to the base myself and get something that would undeniably prove that the government was covering up something big.” “Did you know all along that Daryl was the source of the leaks?” Peter asked. “No, not at all. Not until he called me out of the blue just days ago. I was shocked and angry with him at first for starting all of this. However, he wanted to do something to resurrect his career in Washington, and I certainly didn’t want to see everything that I had accomplished go down the drain, so I agreed to come out here to see if we couldn’t kick-start the story with some earthshaking

evidence. Carson here seemed to have the solution to our problem; namely, a surefire way to get on the base to gather the necessary evidence of exactly what was taking place. “I realize now that Daryl was only playing the part of the source to enhance his standing in Washington among the power brokers and doing so in such a way that potentially threatened the safety and security of the aliens—at least in your minds—as long as they were stranded here on Earth, as well as that of the government and society. I can understand the need to repair their ship so that they can safely depart, because it solves the problem of what to do with them if they remain here. However, it is still the type of story that has mesmerized people for decades. Hell, look at Carson, for God’s sake. He’s been obsessed with this Roswell thing most of his life, and it happened the middle of the last century. What are your chances, really, of continuing to keep this thing under wraps?” “That’s what you are going to help us do, Charley,” General Paige said. “This situation is not one that any of us, including our alien visitors, wanted to have occur. But it did. All we can do now is work to bring this to the best conclusion possible. To do that, we realized early on that some broad control over the events as they transpired was essential. Otherwise, we could have a worldwide reaction on our hands, and the whole thing could blow up in our faces. We really have no choice but to continue as we have, Charley … and Carson, for the time being. The one thing that I will grant you is that the wraps, as you mentioned, cannot be kept on this story forever. This is not like your Roswell story, Carson, in that there are just too many people, and governments, and companies involved. As long as those involved can be kept on this base or within the close confines of the White House, the Pentagon, and the top leadership of Congress, we stand a chance of bringing this off without a hitch over the next few months. “Here is what I am going to propose for the two of you, with the approval of the president of the United States and a few others. As long as you are to be restricted to this base, and you will be restricted to this base, you might as well become a part of the story, if for no other reason than your tenacity in trying to track it down. Besides, we cannot shoot you, although maybe we could put you onboard Tubrang Gilf’s spaceship when it departs.” That brought a little welcome laughter to the room.

“At the time when the public can be informed about all of this, and that may take some time, you, Charley, and you, Carson, can be at the forefront in doing that, with some restrictions pertaining to continuing national security concerns. Just think, Carson, you can have a UFO cover-up story to continue to rant and rave about that will make Roswell seem like a kid’s birthday party. It will keep you off the streets and out of trouble. So, what do you think? Charley? Carson? Anyone?” The room was as quiet as quiet could be. No one moved. “What did you say your name was again?” Carson asked after a minute or so. “General Warren Paige, Carson.” “Well, I can’t say that I totally agree with you, but I also can’t disagree with you, either. As Charley here said, I have been obsessed with the ‘Roswell thing’ for almost all of my life, blaming the guvmint for this or that, and all the while focusing on legend and myth and rumor, and being angry, I suppose just to be angry. The point is, this is real! This is real! And I get a chance to be a part of it. You say that we will get a chance to tell certain parts of the story that the guvmint will allow at some point? I don’t like it, I it, but I’m an old man. I probably don’t have much time left, despite being ornery from birth, but this is an opportunity that I never thought would happen to me before I died. And here it is! I just have one question?” “What is that, Carson?” the General asked. “How much does a ticket cost to fly on that spaceship?” The room erupted in laughter so loud that the guard outside the door had to open it to find out what was going on. General Paige just shook his head in disbelief, while Tubrang Gilf had to question what the reaction of these humans was all about.

Chapter 36

Tuesday, July 13

T he erecting of the scaffolding around the alien spaceship and outside the hangar was underway nonstop over the weekend and was completed on schedule, as of Monday morning. Now that it had been determined that the old stabilizer cylinder could basically be recycled into the a new cylinder and that the task recently and secretly was assigned to a US company, the overall schedule had moved up by at least several days. Scientists and engineers from the previously competing countries had been encouraged to come to the United States to observe and contribute to portions of the repair process, which began with the removal of the damaged stabilizer cylinder. Many had agreed and were arriving as quickly as security would allow. The gantry crane, now riding on rails attached to the horizontal scaffolding, was perched directly above the opening in the top of the spaceship created by the removal of outside s, insulation, conduits, and wiring. A giant suspended pulley system of cables, with a steel I-beam attached horizontally at the end, was moving slowly downward toward the ship’s opening, with a construction worker riding down with it. Inside the spaceship, both alien and human engineers and workers were waiting to attach the cable eyes to hard points on the top of the cylinder that would enable the crane to lift it slowly and directly up and out of the shaft encircling it. Prior to this moment, those workers had prepared the cylinder by disconnecting all electrical, pneumatic, and hydraulic systems. Now, it rested quietly, perfectly balanced, on the lower roller bearings. Any slight, uncoordinated lateral movement while lifting the cylinder could damage the shaft’s inner linings, including critical internal equipment, further complicating the repair process. The movement down went without a hitch, and the cable ends were quickly

hooked up. There was a momentary pause as all workers involved doublechecked the connections once more. Then, the crane operator slowly took up the slack and set the tension. Once set, and given the thumbs-up sign, he began the inch-by-inch lifting of the cylinder. It seemed a long time before anyone could see evidence that the cylinder was moving up. As it started to rise, everyone stood perfectly still, except for the worker riding the I-beam. He was watching every aspect of the cylinder, judging whether the minute gap between cylinder and shaft walls was holding by looking at the electronic readout on the level to make certain that the cylinder was rising perfectly vertical. As the worker kept watch on the lifting cylinder, the crane operator had his eyes focused on the worker’s hand, with the finger pointing skyward. If the finger so much as moved a fraction of an inch or the electronic level alarmed, the operator would have immediately stopped the lifting. Five minutes later, the cylinder cleared the stabilizer shaft and hung alone at the end of the cables. The lift could now continue until the cylinder was high enough that the crane operator could move the gantry horizontally along the scaffolding toward the opening in the side of the hangar. Once the cylinder was outside the walls and over the flatbed truck that awaited, it would be lowered onto a frame that would it during transport to the manufacturing site over the next two days, covered with a large tarp to disguise it and escorted by normal-looking security vehicles. Everyone in General Paige’s group gave a sigh of relief as they saw it nestled safely on board the truck’s flatbed trailer. For Peter Harrigan, it was the culmination of what he had originally proposed to the ship’s commander weeks ago. Soon, the cylinder would be at the still-secret manufacturing site in the United States and then back for installation in the spaceship. It all could be over within several months, depending on how smoothly things went at the site. The drive motors for the cylinder had been removed sometime earlier and were on their way to yet another secret remanufacturing site. Some of the scientists and engineers from the five countries involved, not directly assigned to the remanufacturing of the alien ship’s cylinder, had accompanied the drive motors to that site. Peter looked over at Tubrang Gilf to see what its reaction might be, but as usual, it displayed no discernible emotion at all. Instead, it turned and approached

Peter, who was standing beside Sara and his brother, Paul. “This is the first big step in accomplishing what you proposed earlier, is it not?” “Yes, it is, sir!” Peter replied. “And of course, you knew what I was thinking.” Peter surprised himself by suddenly referring to Tubrang Gilf as sir; then again, why not? The alien had earned the total respect of the general and his group and had displayed remarkable abilities that had earned it a place in the group, such as sensing what humans were feeling and perhaps knowing what they were thinking as well. “Tubrang Gilf,” Paul said, entering the conversation, “what are your thoughts at this moment?” “It is difficult for me to express what is inside me, for our are not expected to do that, even if they knew and understood what that might be. You see, our civilization’s are not connected by what is inside us as individuals but rather by the outside structure established by the Council that governs our behavior. There are designated areas into which the individual will fit and established rules for that individual in that area. There is no room for an individual emotion, again, even if it could understand it and recognize it. “As I explained to this one called Peter, I have been influenced by you humans beyond what I would normally have thought of you. I know that the intentions of this small group, starting with this one”—he indicated Peter—“have been in the best interests of everyone involved, including those who would have invaded your homeland. I have found that surprising and intriguing. I am still figuring out how to judge you. In the meantime, we will do what we do. For your efforts, I am grateful. I suppose that may be what you think of as an emotion.” They looked at one another for a time. It seemed to be a suitable answer to Paul’s question. With nothing else to be said, the humans walked away toward the base headquarters building, and the alien commander entered its spaceship, minus the cylinder.

What is happening? Daryl thought. He sat alone in his Washington condo. The eighty-inch flat-screen TV was off; no music played on the full-house stereo system. It was late morning. Charley should have called by now. His earlier calls to the journalist had all gone to voice mail. There had been nothing on any of the morning cable networks to indicate a breaking news story, although that wasn’t supposed to have happened in any event. Charley was to have brought the incriminating evidence back with him. Then the two of them would have had the power to control the story. By controlling the story, they would have had the attention of the Washington establishment. By once again having the attention of the power brokers, Daryl would be back again —the man with the information, whom everyone wanted to know and talk to; the man with the information, who would be back in charge of this miserable city on the swamp, making the deals, helping the careers come and go! If only he could get this damned ankle monitor off! He could hop in his Mercedes and be at the desert base in twenty-four hours or less. He knew he should his attorney and tell him to get that judge to lift the ankle-monitor restriction. Why would he want to leave the country, for God’s sake. Washington was where everyone who was anyone wanted to be. It was his town! Where could Charley be? He and that old-timer should have been back from the base hours ago, if they started out early last night. Has that Charley boy chickened out? Daryl wondered. Or decided to take the evidence and run? To try to break the story and take all the credit himself? What about the old man? Charley was convinced that he was the legitimate thing, a man who had already been to the base and had seen some evidence of the activity that Daryl knew very well was taking place at this very minute. Would Carson Plummer have scammed Charley out of the evidence, only to reveal it on his UFO website that he probably had for all the crazies in the world to go weird over? They got caught! Daryl did not want to face that music, but he knew that that is what happened. Daryl knew that the security at that base was going to be absolutely impenetrable. How could an old man and a totally inept journalist ever penetrate to the heart of what was going on, grab irrefutable evidence,

particularly evidence directly related to the aliens, without getting nabbed in the process? That meant that his hands were tied now, for sure. He couldn’t leave town without raising the interest of the authorities. And even if he could, what good would it do? There was no way that they would let him on the base these days, not after Charley ratted him out, which meant that, if they did, he would end up in the same cell as Charley and Carson. But at least he could move around this city. What opportunity might that provide? Who was left around town who would come close to answering the phone if they saw his name on the caller ID? Who would even want to be seen in the same room with him, when doing so might mean being instantly ostracized? Who had he known in the past who might not know of his current troubles, someone who could be of assistance in this time of need? After all, nothing so far about him had been in the news. His downfall, temporary of course, was all through the grapevine. Unfortunately for him, the lion’s share of the most valuable information in Washington traveled through the back alleys of the city. It would have to be someone who had media access, however limited. If not the newspapers, and they were definitely out, then how about the local TV stations? Since most of the people with whom he had dealt in the past would only touch a TV station or reporter if they knew that they could absolutely control the content, Daryl’s experience with TV personnel was limited. Newspapers were one thing, for he could simply deny what was printed. Being grilled live on TV—and images of hanging over an open fire no doubt occurred to many a campaign manager deciding whether or not to put their promising contender in front of a TV audience—gave pause may times to those hungry for political attention. It would have to be another media outlet, at least to start out. Radio! And radio meant Debra Storm, which was both good and bad. Their affair had ended years ago but badly. They had started out as friends but ended up as anything but. He hadn’t thought about her in years, as part of his decision to promote mental health—his. But any port in a storm, right? he thought. Even if that port is littered with more derelict ships than not? And for that matter, even if Charley Whitmore did show up with the evidence. That would only make his appearance on Debra’s radio

show that much more dramatic. Debra, who was born Deborah Wilson in Flint, Michigan, was now the queen of late night on one of the local radio stations in Washington, DC. After changing her name to create the image of a women in charge and on her way up, she had started out years ago on a local TV station doing a morning talk-show format that focused on women in politics at the time when more women were showing up in Washington, either as of Congress or White House staff. Debra had convinced the owner of the station, during a series of trysts at his Washington apartment, that the timing was right to start concentrating on women in Washington and that she was the one to do the concentrating. She was right. The show took off, not only highlighting the rising women in Washington politics but Debra Storm herself. Soon, she had the highest viewership of any daily TV personality in the city. She gradually became more popular and well known than most of the visitors on her show. With that popularity came an assumed position of power and influence that began to eclipse that of the station’s owner, at least in her own mind. It did not take much time for that relationship, both with the owner and with Washington, to become corrosive, to the extent that the owner began plotting how he could replace her with another woman who would actually let her guests talk about themselves and their careers. Indeed, the viewership began to jump ship, and the ratings started to plummet, as did the profits. As the time for contract renewal approached, the station management started to take a hard-line approach with her agent. Contract negotiations went nowhere for months. Finally, Debra, who was still convinced that her position was impregnable, took her own hard-line stand. It was either her way, or she would hit the highway and take her viewership with her. Months later, those at the station were still talking about Debra’s reaction when she found out that her contract was not going to be renewed. Rumor had it that there was still an ashtray partially embedded in the wall behind the station owner’s desk to this day. Enter Daryl Stark into Debra Storm’s life. It wasn’t exactly like trying to mix oil and water; more like oil and fire. It was the whirlwind love affair from hell, which meant that love was the last thing occupying their minds.

In the end, Daryl, who was the rising sun on the Washington horizon at that time, at least in his mind, managed to introduce Debra to the conservative owner of a radio station, at Debra’s insistence. After a convincing late-night interview at yet another Washington apartment, Debra was hired to fill in for a renown early morning radio talk-show host who was on temporary leave after a serious heart attack. His successful format was to attack the Washington establishment as constantly corrupt and anti-American, particularly if that establishment was Democratic. Debra Storm had a tough going initially, due to her gender. The mostly masculine listening audience at first resented her, just as they resented President Anne Hunter as the military’s commander in chief. Eventually, though, she proved to be so hard-hitting, so in your face, government, so anti-anyone not in agreement with the country’s Second Amendment warriors, that she had the listening audience, male or female, cheering her on, night after night. She was amazed by how many people were awake, listening to her rantings, ravings, and mostly unfounded accusations. When did they sleep, for God’s sake? What could their love life be like? Probably just like my own, she thought. That was why she was really angered when her phone started ringing a little before noon. Not knowing who it could be, she picked up her cell phone and muttered a choked hello. “Debra, sweetheart, I hope that I didn’t wake you up,” the somewhat familiar voice spoke to her. “Well, you shithead, you did. Now, who are you, and what do you want that cannot wait until I can actually get some sleep?” “Debra, is that anyway to speak to the person who rescued you from oblivion in Washington and helped make you the contentious, utterly obnoxious person that you are today?” “My God … Daryl? To what do I owe the honor of this interruption?” “Well,” Daryl said, pausing to come up with an answer to her question, “I was suddenly worried about how you were doing. You may not be aware of this, my dear, but there are those in the world who are genuinely concerned about others. And they actually call, sometimes, to see just how those others are doing.”

“Is that why your phone is constantly ringing off the hook these days, Daryl?” “Now, that really cuts to the quick, Debra. Don’t you know that it’s not nice to not be nice? I’ve read that it can shorten your life, and I wouldn’t want to have to attend your funeral.” “Daryl, at this particular moment, I think that I can honestly say that I’ve actually missed you in my life. now … that’s what I think! All right, you want something, so let’s cut the chitchat. You tell me what it is, so that I can either hang up on you or thank you for making my life somehow more enjoyable. What’s it going to be?”

Chapter 37

Wednesday, July 14

I t was not a meeting so much as a get-together. The stabilizer cylinder was en route to its secret facility for recycling and reconstruction. The new cylinder was scheduled for completion and delivery back to the base within sixty days and the drive motors for it even sooner. The base had withstood an attempt by two intruders, Charley Whitmore and Carson Plummer. Both were still under tight oversight, although not restricted to quarters. With nothing of importance to worry about for a while, the base decided to relax a little. Almost everyone from the headquarters building and the hangar area was seated or standing in the expanded crew’s briefing room in the hangar. Karl Holzhauer and Katrina Douglas were away on leave, finally able to take some time off after more than a month involved in the ongoing alien saga—Karl back to , Katrina to Houston, Texas. Paul Harrigan was planning on doing the same thing by the end of the week. Peter and Sara were also working out plans for a breather, Sara having to officially apply for leave. They would try to do short visits to both Peter’s place in California and Sara’s in Virginia. General Paige had just finished the update on events to emphasize what was behind them and what they had to look forward to in the next few months. It was nice just to sit among those who had worked hard for what seemed like months and talk about nothing of particular importance, at least nothing that required their immediate attention. “Well, I cannot think of anything else to add at this time. As I mentioned at the beginning, thankfully much of the excitement is now behind us. If we remain focused and patient, our esteemed visitors from a faraway neighborhood can depart on whatever adventure awaits them. As of now, everything is in place for that to occur in the not too distant future. I was advised this morning that the chief engineer overseeing the construction efforts on the base desires to make a

statement. Mr. Stewart?” Allan Stewart, a man of large proportions, rose from his chair and the general motioned him to the front of the room. He was tall enough that his head almost reached the exposed florescent lights and ductwork hanging from the ceiling. If the aisle he walked down had been even slightly narrower, he would have had to inch sideways to make it to the front. When he arrived, General Paige had to move aside. “Thank you, General Paige,” he spoke with a deceptively quiet voice. “I’m not up here to make a long speech by any means. My crew and I consider ourselves lucky to be involved in this project. We’ve done quite a bit of work on various government jobs over the years, but this has been the most awesome. I really did not know what to expect with the limited information that I was initially given by the gentlemen who briefed me on the ‘not-to-be-disclosed’ details of the project. Unfortunately, they spoke in such general that we could have showed up to either replace a huge electric generator on a factory floor or install a reactor at a nuclear power plant. Whatever it was going to be, it was going to be as secret as a woman’s real age—exactly the kind of work that we like to do. “We did not realize what it was we were getting into until we were on the base and approaching the hangar. I suppose that if they had said that we would be working for new customers who were out of this world, we might have put two and two together, knowing the people who usually approach us for these jobs. Anyway, thank you all for this opportunity. Everyone has been a true professional, and we look forward to completing this job for you, Tubrang Gilf, and your crew, in just sixty days’ time. Thank you.” The applause was not ear-splitting but more than just polite. The alien commander looked at the chief engineer as he returned to his chair, again noncommittally. Peter questioned whether the alien could ever be capable of any human-like emotions. “Thank you, Mr. Stewart,” General Paige said, returning to the front of the room. “Mr. Stewart and his crew are leaving the base tomorrow morning and will return when the new cylinder is readied for return shipment. In the meantime, the scaffolding will remain in place. That reminds me, we need to consider how we will spend our time between now and then. General Atkins and I have been in with those involved in Washington, including the president’s office

and the Pentagon, and the consensus is to maintain the appearance of a base at a low level of security and activity but with the reserve potential of quickly gearing up the security aspect to a higher level, as required. “In other words, we want to create the illusion that nothing is happening at this location, despite any rumors to the contrary. The fact that air and vehicular traffic will just about cease for the duration will help in creating that illusion. We will continue to declare the area as restricted and therefore off limits to the public and will provide appropriate security patrols, but will insist that there is no activity at present at the base, which will pretty much be the truth. “We will hold almost everything in reserve until just days before the new cylinder is ready for shipment back to the base and then gear back up at that time. For the most part, those remaining will be General Atkins and I—we will alternate being on base as needed; of my inside group on a rotating basis; a minimal istrative and security staff at the headquarters building; the security detail assigned to perimeter security; and Tubrang Gilf and its ship’s crew. Now, back to my initial statement as to as how we are going to spend our time until the cylinder is ready, we have to come up with a schedule that will keep us active on a daily basis without becoming boringly routine. I want all of you to come up with suggestions as to how we can stay focused and immediately ready whenever and for whatever may occur. “One suggestion already is the we rotate personnel on base between various assignments that are closely related to their qualifications from time to time, not just to see what others are doing but to keep our minds active and challenged. We do not want to become lethargic from boredom. Then we will start to take the routine for granted and start missing obvious things, because we’ve stopped paying attention. Putting some time in at different activities on base will help keep us alert and focused. This includes our alien visitors, who will be here for the duration as well. So think about that. Also, General Atkins and I will come up with an approach for getting some of you, including others not at this gathering, off base for some R&R, however that is possible in of maintaining adequate security. So, if there is nothing else, we are adjourned. The next meeting has yet to be determined at this time.”

It was noon in Washington. The lunchtime rush was in force for those who unfortunately had to go outside in search of it. Others among the throngs were more fortunate and could have it prepared and served to them, such as the president of the United States and corporate CEOs, or could venture down the hall or via elevator to the executive dining room. For the four t Chiefs in attendance in the Pentagon, it was almost the same. They were seated in their office’s main conference room, enjoying a lunch provided and served by two of the Officers’ Mess personnel. Those enlisted types had departed, and the conversation turned once again to the secret, remote base in the desert. “I say that we are far too exposed over the next few months until that replacement cylinder for the spacecraft is manufactured and delivered,” said General Benjamin Stevens. “If you think that those lunatics are going to give up trying to expose what we are doing out there, you are mistaken. They haven’t stopped or even slowed down in decades, and they are not about to start now. We really need to beef up our security forces out there and continue our satellite coverage. I just have a feeling that the area is going to be overrun with other Carson Plummer’s, and the lid is going to blow off the entire operation. And we are going to find ourselves scrambling, both here and out there, to contain it.” “I agree with you, Benny,” iral Alexander Cummings replied, “but I also think that the president made a good point when she said that overacting might create more attention than if we just lay low for the time being and let whatever interest might have been generated by that Carson Plummer fellow die down. Although I it that Warren and General Atkins are probably going to have to do some things, such as rotating some of the troops off the base and bringing new personnel on board. But then you get into a training situation, because the troops are new, which can blow your cover. On the other hand, everyone here knows that you cannot keep trained personnel inactive over such a protracted period, even if only for a few months, and then expect them to do anything at peak performance immediately and do it well. So what’s the answer?” General Beverly Hamilton jumped in. “But if you let them off base, you then run the risk of somebody spilling the beans after a few drinks too many at the bars and night clubs or on leave back home. I it that you run the risk of losing

your focus and attentiveness after a while. You can become too accustomed to the new but temporary condition too quickly. And that is a concern. “But what is really the problem here?” she continued. “This is such a relatively short time. And we have had military personnel standing down in the past from action in such situations, whether it was in South Korea after that police action, or in at the end of the Cold War.” “That is true,” responded General Stevens, “but there, they were kept active and alert through various t exercises over time that simulated probable scenarios, either against another North Korean invasion or one from a large and well-armed Soviet force invading from Eastern Europe through the Fulda Gap. Here, all they have is the silence and the desert heat. Believe me, I saw the effects of that almost immediately after Desert Storm. It doesn’t take long for active troops to start losing their edge.” “But we cannot do that in this instance,” General Hamilton responded, “because we want to create the impression that the remote base is and has been inactive all along. Any military exercise in that area would immediately tip off those who are most suspicious of government intentions.” “Exactly!” iral Cummings replied. General Carlos Perez, the only one to not offer an opinion of the situation so far, put down his silverware, which contained a fair degree of silver, and offered somewhat of a compromise observation. “We are not talking about either a Korea or an Eastern Europe situation but rather one of short duration, in all probability. If our trained troops already at the base cannot maintain a degree of peak efficiency over what will be a period of only a few months, then our entire military force could potentially be in jeopardy, don’t you think? To summarize, we have a situation that is not the best, by any means, but we really do not have much of a choice. We do not have the means of making it substantially better either, because we do not have the time or the opportunity. The risk having this revealed in the media is under control. The NSA is monitoring the phone calls of certain individuals, including those of Daryl Stark and some media s that he has used in the past, not counting Charley Whitmore, who is indisposed at the moment. So far, his cell phone has had no suspicious incoming calls, as we have been informed.

“The FBI has not uncovered any palpable interest in the remote base in any of the communities around it so far, beyond that of the recent activities of one Carson Plummer, and he is also indisposed at the moment. He is also considered a person who does not always have a grip on reality. In fact, he’s pretty much a nut case, as the report sent to us reads. My point is, let us not make a mountain out of a molehill, as the old saying goes. Benjamin, you do make a valid point that we are still at risk of something untoward happening between now and two months from now. But after all, we do serve the president, and it probably makes more sense, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, to do as she suggests, and not roil the water.”

“Good evening, listeners. It may be 11:30 p.m. on Wednesday, the fourteenth, but this is the start of Thursday’s The Early Morning Show on WASH AM, your direct connection—not just in Washington but across the country—to what is happening when it happens, and I am Debra Storm. We have a breaking news story for you tonight, so pop that corn, get another beer out of the fridge, take a pee, whatever you have to do to remain glued to WASH for the next two hours, for I know that my listeners are going to want to hear my guest talk about your government and its attempt to cover up an alien encounter at a secret military base in the western desert, and it is all being kept from the American public— you! “Several others have tried before to bring this to the forefront, according to our guest, including individuals who attempted to do that recently and apparently have disappeared from the scene. That, and more—and it all starts right after these messages.” Debra had Daryl on his untraceable, throwaway cell phone, on which one of Debra’s techie friends had installed an application to disguise his voice. It was decided that Daryl’s identity could not be used, for that could put the radio station, Debra, and certainly Daryl in jeopardy. This had to be a call-in from a completely different person from earlier, so that the authorities would not suspect him of trying to pull off the source thing again. Even with his identity kept secret, he would still have to be careful about what he said and how he said it, for that could alert people in General Paige’s group, particularly Peter Harrigan. The only way to do that was to create a convincing new character, as if he were writing a new novel. Debra and Daryl had worked on the format for hours yesterday, finishing up only a few hours ago, so both were doing this without much rest. Both were confident that they had the format and the details to blow the air out of the lungs of those involved in keeping secrets. “Okay, we’re back,” Debra said after the break. “I want to introduce you to a person who is taking a real chance coming forth with this story. As I mentioned before the break, this person knows that others have already been silenced by the government, your government, while attempting to reveal the truth about this colossal cover-up. Because of that, because the government will stop at nothing

to silence the true heroes in this country, this person’s voice will be altered in such a way as to disguise his or her identity, including the gender, to enable the story—the full story—to come out without putting this person and family at risk.” Debra’s tone became reverent as she said, “Hello to the brave individual holding on the line. Can you hear me?” After a dramatic pause, the disguised voice answered, “Yes, I can.” “Thank you for this truly patriotic thing that you have decided to do, despite the obvious danger to which you may be exposing yourself. Are you positive that you want to go through with this interview?” “Yes, I am,” came the quiet reply. “ Okay. Let’s begin. … What do you know about the latest persons, like you, who tried to expose this almost criminal activity on the part of this government? Do you know what happened to them?” “All I know is that they have disappeared,” the voice said, “without a trace. We believe that they are being held against their will, perhaps at a remote, secret base located in the northwest desert of the country. We are all alarmed and saddened, but we are more determined now than ever to reveal the truth about this.” “And what is that truth? What is our government doing that is such a threat to our privacy and security?” “Right now, the government is data mining the accumulated information that is out there on the Internet, particularly the social media websites and telephone records, in an attempt to track the calls and movements of all patriotic Americans, with the intent of being able to control, to stop any attempt to tell the truth about what is happening.” “But again, I ask,” Debra said plaintively, “what is that truth? What is the story that they are trying to keep from the public and are, according to you, willing to possibly abridge the constitutional rights of that public to know what their government is all about?” “What we have known about for some time is that our government developed a satellite system years ago that would enable them to not only accurately spy on

the people on earth—to the point that the system could read your license plates from hundreds of miles out in space—but also see into space with the same accuracy, only for millions of miles. This enabled them to detect what turned out to be an alien spaceship that appeared, at the time, to be headed for us, for this planet. Continuing to track it in space proved its true intention; it was, indeed, heading for us. “What we have managed to find out from those inside the government who want to do the right thing for the public is that the spaceship landed on Earth days ago, somewhere in this country’s northwest desert, and is now at a secret military base somewhere at the juncture of the state lines of Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming—a very remote area. We don’t know why, exactly, but our information as to the location we believe to be accurate.” “You said that you do not know why the spaceship is currently at this military base.” Debra Storm’s statement continued with the prearranged script. “Do you suspect some sort of collusion between the government and these aliens? Why else would this spaceship be located secretly at this base?” There was a pause—a scheduled pause—to allow the tension to build. At this stage, they wanted the radio listeners to have their ears close to the radio to catch every word and feel every emotion of the moment. The listeners were there, as if they were actually at the radio studio listening to the feed. They were there with the anonymous caller. More important, they were there at the secret base and could see the alien spacecraft. They were believers! “Well, the only thing that makes any sense at this point is that the government probably knew that the alien spaceship would approach Earth, along with other alien spaceships following behind. It is now at the remote base, because perhaps that is the place where the aliens in our government can successfully meet with their counterparts from the alien spaceship.” It was time for another break, but Debra wasn’t concerned about losing any of her listeners. The phone lines were all blinking and had been for a long time. “Do not go away, friends. There is a lot more to come. We will be right back.”

There were other listeners in Washington this night, and they were not sitting at their radios mesmerized by the idea of an alien encounter and a government attempt to cover it up. They were involved in the attempt not to do so, and they were distressed with what they were picking up. The more they listened, the more they became convinced that these were more than just the ramblings of the typical UFO kook who found it impossible to fall asleep at night, for this one began popping names of those supposedly involved—names this person should not have known. Yes, the individual was using the roundabout tactics, such as “sources have told us,” or “according to those in Washington who should know,” but that didn’t cut it. The first source a few days ago, who was supposedly well connected some place in the Washington establishment, had not mentioned any names, let alone these particular names. Here, the names offered up to the listeners belonged to those in the highest circles, and the implications were being purposefully hidden behind carefully phrased comments that suggested speculation but carried, nonetheless, the tone of direct accusation. There was no choice but to start making calls, most of which would rouse people in the middle of the night, who were to be called only under the direst of circumstances. The first source had put everyone on notice and on guard. There were those whose egos were still reeling from that embarrassment, even though the names and the egos that went with them were still protected, for now. This current ordeal, however, might be the game-changer at many levels.

“So, as this last hour winds down,” Debra said, “do you have any final words for our listeners who, perhaps, want to know more about this mind-boggling revelation?” “Yes,” the garbled voice answered. “Do not take your government’s explanation for any of this at face value. Learn for yourself; do your homework. See for yourself, and search out the answers, for the answers are out there—in the desert.” “Thank you for your sacrifice, caller. Well, you heard it, people. An anonymous person coming forth in this fashion to protect him or her from government retribution but taking a chance nonetheless—coming forth with the facts, naming the names of some of the people involved at the top, including the president of the United States herself. You have the facts, as known by the caller. You have the history behind some of the government cover-ups. You weigh the evidence and decide. Thanks to all of you out there, from coast to coast, for listening in. After all, you are the reason that we are here. Good night, friends!”

Chapter 38

Thursday, July 15

“I think that this is a lot more serious than the Daryl Stark episode,” Patricia Thomas said from the White House Oval Office, “namely because this one named names, for God’s sake. Yours and mine and the president’s—and others as well! If this was Daryl, why didn’t he do it the first time? No, I do not believe that the two are connected, unlike some of you out there in never-never land. Don’t you see? This has the potential of exploding beyond our ability to control it, because the implication, from what this person said, is that the public reaction to this latest incident is now going to involve many others. People will be exploring the desert area location in greater numbers, as suggested by the caller.” “Patricia,” General Paige responded from the first-floor meeting room in the headquarters building, “we have gone over this in great detail and have come to the conclusion that we simply cannot discount the possibility that somehow Daryl is wrapped up in this, despite his already being in trouble and wearing an ankle monitor. I it that this last exchange sounded and felt different, but that can always be faked, you know. They call it acting. They write a script, practice their lines, and put on a show.” “Don’t be cute about this, General. The president just about went through the roof when she heard about this, primarily because she was awakened about three o’clock in the morning, as we all were. Just be thankful that she is tied up with meetings with congressional leaders this morning at the Senate Office Building over the last budget bill. She has already instructed the FBI to get to the bottom of this—and damned quick. Her first question was, ‘Why did this character, who supposedly is somewhere other than Washington, a Washington radio station?’ She, like you, is convinced that this is Daryl Stark again, and I had one hell of a time convincing her not to move too quickly in that direction before exploring the possibility that this could involve someone else or some group that just now surfaced with its own agenda. Automatically trying to attach this to

Daryl Stark could be a waste of valuable resources, primarily time. “I agree with the president that we need to hop on this now, but I think that we need to expand our mind-set to incorporate others in this country who have a history of trying to undermine the federal government with accusations of coverups and violations of personal rights. Daryl was just one man motivated by personal delusions. This could be quite another thing. Carson Plummer was just one man trying to track down evidence that was mostly in his mind. This could turn into dozens—if not hundreds—of people trying to do the same thing but in a much more organized way, such as through social media. This could become a much more professionally organized effort, which the media would just love to soak up and report to the public.” The headquarters meeting room was pulsating with this new pressure. The face of the president’s national security advisor staring at them through the widescreen TV on the wall did not help to alleviate that pressure. “All right, Patricia, we will discuss this further. Does the president agree that this could become a much larger security threat to both the base and Washington? Will she approve of a larger security footprint around the base, and if so, how much larger? Keep in mind that throwing an even larger security force around this base may very well engender the very large-scale interest in the base and its activities that we are trying to avoid.” “I will have to it that I have yet to bring that up to her. Heaven knows when I will have that chance for the remainder of the day. I will do so at the earliest time. In the meantime, I am suggesting that you start preparing yourselves for her affirmative answer.” “As I mentioned, we will discuss it further. Let us know about the president’s view on this as soon as possible.” The screen went blank. General Paige turned and looked directly at General Atkins, who sat at the table and loudly blew air out of his mouth. “Why did I know that this would happen?” General Paige muttered to himself, although it was heard by everyone in the room. “So where are we on the Daryl subject? If Patricia Thomas is right in her assessment of the situation, we are a long way from what Daryl was trying to do. If she is right, this could cascade into a firestorm.”

“I could be wrong, but I still think that this is Daryl,” Peter said. “I don’t know how he did it. Are we certain that he is still wearing that ankle monitor? Aren’t his calls being monitored as well? And now that he is supposedly a pariah in that town, who would even touch him when it comes to pulling off something like that? And yet …” “Well, they haven’t found a connection yet between him and this Debra Storm,” General Atkins chimed in, “according to the FBI. And she is still claiming that the mystery voice, as this character is now called, ed her out of the blue, offering her this exclusive interview. Why her? Out of the blue? I’m like Peter; I’m not buying any of it.” “While the FBI is checking this out,” General Paige responded, “I think that we had better prepare for the eventuality that Patricia Thomas could be right. If the president agrees, then the expectation will be that we are already in the process of gearing up for it at this base. Washington will not be far behind in coming up with a counter to the mystery voice’s accusations and insinuations. That means that we will have to cancel any leave for the personnel already here and will have to have additional troops on standby for immediate transport to the base. Let’s hedge, for the moment, in putting all of this into action, until we hear later from the White House. Also, we do not want to rattle the cages of the locals and get them all stirred up until we absolutely have to. “In the meantime, General Atkins, make an inquiry to see if the FBI is increasing its surveillance of the areas around the base to get a better sense of anyone or any group that suddenly has come awake and is starting to make some noise. That may give us some indication of just how seriously that organization is taking this latest incident. Any questions or comments?” “General Paige,” Tubrang Gilf chimed in, “it is probable that any great number of humans who may want to locate the base and make documentation of it for whatever reason will do so, along the most obvious approaches. Can you request that those authorities who have responsibility for those approaches outside the base post additional personnel to cover those areas, to see if there is, indeed, any unusual activity occurring? We, of course, could do the same for approaches lying within the base perimeter. Also, I would assume that you still have one of your satellites in position to track such activity as well.” “Tubrang Gilf, that is an excellent recommendation. I would think that would be

one of the first things that the FBI would coordinate with local and state police. But to make certain, General Atkins, that can be one of your questions when you make with them this morning. And Tubrang Gilf, we did have access to that satellite but released it just hours ago for another assignment. We will have to coordinate a time when we can reestablish that access. Any other questions? If not, let’s take a break. Time to return based on what we may hear from the White House or any other developments, so monitor your cell phones for the call back.” Those in attendance slowly rose and proceeded out of the room. The level of concern in this situation depended on whether or not they thought that Daryl Stark was behind this latest incident. Peter, Sara, and Paul walked over to the Officers’ Mess for something to tide them over through the remainder of the morning, for none had had much breakfast after being alerted for the breaking news out of Washington. They all hoped that this too would blow over, once the full details were revealed, although they had to it that what the mystery voice had said could elicit a sizeable response from hundreds of curiosity seekers, if nothing else, and that certainly could cause a short-term problem for the base. “I had a thought just now,” Peter said, after they all sat down with doughnuts and coffee. “Sara, you and I have been planning to visit both Washington and Stanford. What if we left right now, with General Paige’s approval, and went to Washington first? I keep thinking about Daryl and his involvement in this whole affair. I can’t figure it out. Something has to be wrong with him, and if he continues to pursue this line of activity, he is going to hurt a lot of people but mostly himself. I would like to do what I can to convince him to stop this insanity before it is too late.” Paul spoke up before Sara could. “Peter, how sure are you that he is involved in this latest scenario? Patricia Thomas could be right about this being somehow different, with a potentially larger footprint and larger consequences.” “I think that the fact that this was done through a Washington radio station pretty much guarantees that Daryl was involved somehow,” Peter replied. “Now, it could be a different person using the same disguised-voice format to hide his or her identity, particularly if the person is fearful of government retribution if the identity is discovered. That much makes sense. But as General Atkins kept

saying, why Washington? Why Debra Strom? If you are anywhere else in the country—and the caller’s location was never revealed, but the implication was that the person was calling in from a distance—with something that you have to get off your chest—in this case, a government cover-up of some sort—why wouldn’t you a local talk-radio station?” “Peter!” Sara said, as she grabbed a hold of his arm. “Charley Whitmore!” Both Peter and Paul looked at her questioningly. “Charley Whitmore!” she repeated. “He was in on the first attempt at breaking this story. He came out here to find the clear evidence of the cover-up, at Daryl’s insistence. It has only been a few days since he and Carson were caught. Why don’t we use Charley as bait to see if Daryl is in on this latest attempt? The timing is perfect. Charley can pretend that he is calling with more evidence of the cover-up by telling Daryl that he heard someone on a local broadcast telling all about the base and what is going on, naming names, etc. He could tell Daryl that it has taken longer than expected, because he and Carson have had to lay low due to increased government activity. Perhaps that phone call could get Daryl to it that he was on the Washington interview all along. It’s not that I don’t want to go to Washington with you, sweetheart; I do very much. Or anywhere else, for that matter. When we go, however, I just want it to be us, alone, without anything to do with the FBI, CIA, or US Army. Let’s see if we can do this long distance, at least at first.” “It could just work, Peter,” Paul acknowledged, nodding his head. “Okay, I guess that it’s worth a try,” Peter agreed, “if it will stop Daryl in his tracks. Who is going to have to approve this, besides everyone between here and Washington?” “As General Paige’s adjutant, sir, I believe that I can schedule you for an appointment; that is, if you behave yourself. I think that we should meander over to the base headquarters to see if the general is otherwise occupied. Will you us, Paul?” “You see, Peter,” Paul responded with a sly smile, “she may love you, but she really likes me. She is constantly asking me if I want to her. And the answer, señorita, is si. It would make me muchas gracias. There, I’ve shown y’all that I am multilingual.”

“Sara, there is something that I should have told you earlier about my brother, Paul,” Peter said in conspiratorial tone, “about the therapy that didn’t work out when he was young. You see, as a youngster he was always spotting incredibly beautiful women and just following them. It really wasn’t so bad, because as it continued into adulthood, the ones he was no longer interested in after a while, he gave to me. Eventually, I discovered what to do with them. It was a mystery at first.” Sara shook her head as she got up and walked toward the door, with both Peter and Paul following, proving that she was incredibly beautiful.

Debra was sitting in the WASH AM station office preparing for her earlymorning show. The station owner had called her into the office as soon as she arrived to rave about the results of last night’s show. The listener response had been overwhelming, a historical high. And the sponsors had all ed the station to congratulate it on finding a format that so completely captured the listeners’ attention and kept them tuned in. Debra knew what her boss wanted before he even spoke. She knew herself how well that show had gone. Once the phone lines started to light up, all of the lines remained lit throughout the two hours. She was able to take only a small fraction of the calls and the questions and statements that the callers had. The expectation of her boss now was expressed in his first question: “So what in the hell do you have for me tonight?” That was the problem that she faced. The bad thing about a great success was the follow-up. And that was what she did not have. Other issues could arouse the listeners and drive the calls and comments—gun control, immigration, government spending. None, however, seemed to feed the primal reactions more than secrets being kept from the public, as in government surveillance and the monitoring of calls, and the collection and data mining of information that the public wanted to be kept private. All were viewed as intrusions into their private lives. That was what all the furor was about in last night’s interview of the “mystery voice.” Already, excerpts from last night’s show released to the web media had gone viral. The demand for it had skyrocketed, and the public was not going to be content without more of the same. The story had all of the ingredients necessary to raise the high emotions and increase the station’s yearned-for profits. What could she do? Using Daryl again was out of the question. She never wanted to repeat with an interview, unless she left listeners hanging with even more important things yet to reveal. But they had pretty much shot their wad last night with Daryl’s character. Anything else would run the risk of the character being perceived as less believable over time—a weirdo. But what about that journalist who had tried to break Daryl’s story and was fired

as a result? He had gone to the area where Daryl said the remote base was located and disappeared. How do I go about getting in touch with him? she wondered. Would Daryl know? One thing was for certain: the public was still hungry for more UFO-related “meat,” and she had to serve it up.

“I don’t know, Peter,” General Paige said. “On the surface, it sounds like it could work. We are not planning on charging either Charley Whitmore of Carson Plummer with anything. We could try charging them with walking onto a posted government restricted area, but that really is not much to warrant the charge. We cannot charge them for stealing government property or secrets, because we did not wait long enough to give them the opportunity to actually do that. My question being, why would Charley Whitmore want to cooperate in this? We cannot let either of them go until this is over. So there is no incentive there. At that time, I suppose that we could promise him somewhat of an exclusive on the story. Actually, I think that we already have promised him that, or rather you did, Peter.” “But sir,” Paul interjected, “neither one knows that they won’t be charged, unless they already have been told.” “No, they have not been told that,” the general replied. “That alone could be enough for both of them to cooperate with us in some way. If Charley does cooperate and s Daryl out of the blue, how can you be sure that he will not be able to alert Daryl in some way as to the exact nature of the call? Also, don’t you think that Daryl might be suspicious, particularly when days have ed without any at all?” “Sir,” Lt. Colonel Bradford replied, “we do not have any guarantee, one way or the other. We do believe that if Charley calls to tell Daryl that he heard a radio broadcast on a local station involving a caller, also with a disguised voice, conveying new information about the base’s activities and that he just wanted to that on, that Daryl will want to own up to it, just to impress Charley. “Even if that does not work, Charley can try to convince Daryl that he is still trying to come up with valuable information and evidence but that he has had to lie low the past few days because of increased troop action around the base perimeters. We might have to come up with something that we think will intrigue Daryl enough that he will it on to WASH AM. Then we can wait to see if that bogus information turns up on a future Debra Storm segment.” “If it does, that should serve to establish the connection between the two,” Peter added, “that the FBI could use as leverage.”

“Okay, let me clear this with the president. I will call Ms. Thomas to see if her boss is available for a second or two. Stay close by. I will you when I know. By the way, any idea at all as to what this ‘something’ might be that you think might intrigue Daryl enough to share it with Debra Storm?” “Not a clue.” Peter said. “That is what I thought. Keep in mind that WASH AM may have already been approached by the authorities about the broadcast, just as the Washington Daily Herald was previously. We may not have the opportunity to use them for what you are suggesting.”

As Debra was still struggling with how to make with Charley Whitmore, there was a commotion in the front office. Angela, the receptionist, was loudly telling someone that he or she could not just walk into that office. Apparently, it didn’t do much good, because she could hear the door to Walt’s office loudly close. The conversation coming from up front was strong but muted behind the closed door. Oh, well, that happens from time to time, she thought. The format of the station was often controversial enough to elicit negative comments by phone or mail, and occasionally listeners showed up personally to confront the person or persons responsible for broadcasting “that garbage” on the public airwaves. Should I Daryl? The understanding was no. They both knew that the broadcast was like waving a flag in the face of the government in Washington. Debra had no idea that Daryl was going to ratchet-up the web of government intrigue and cover-up as much as he ended up doing by mentioning the president and others as conspirators. Still, others in the city, particularly the opponents of a president on the “other side of the aisle,” had accused presidents in the past of everything under the sun, including treason. Whether or not this was different, Debra did not know. She did know that Walt was counting on the First Amendment of the Constitution, particularly that portion dealing with freedom of the press, to cover his ass whenever challenged by threats of lawsuits. In the meantime, she would continue with business as usual, which led her back to the dilemma of Charley Whitmore. There was a shuffling noise in the front office and the closing of the door to the office. Within minutes, the light coming into the room from the hallway was blocked by the broad form of Walter Hogan, the station manager. “That was the FBI, in case you didn’t hear the conversation coming from my office,” Walter said, still blocking the light from that hallway. “No, I couldn’t hear a thing, although I did near Angela yelling at someone a few minutes ago. The FBI, huh?” “Yes,” Walt said in a quiet, patient voice. “Not just the FBI, but the SAC, the special agent in charge for the FBI in Washington. She, along with her assistant,

had a message for me, which means the station, which means the owners of the station. Would you like to know what it was?” “Only if you would like to tell me,” Debra replied, looking down at the tentative schedule for the next broadcast. “Be careful!” “That’s it? ‘Be careful?’” “Let’s just say that’s what it boiled down to. Not surprisingly, they were here to question your last early-morning show. They wanted to know, among other things, how the caller was selected. I told them the only thing that I could—that the person ed you and convinced you of pertinent information regarding a recent story circulating around concerning an alien spaceship supposedly crashlanding on the planet and some secret military base in the desert where the government is supposedly hiding it. That is what you told me, you know.” “Yes, and that is what this person told me. I had heard something about it before, primarily from those headlines appearing in the Washington Daily Herald. You probably read them, didn’t you? Anyway, the person with the voice disguised filled me in on the gist of what he or she had to reveal, and I thought that it would make an excellent format for one of my shows.” “Well, apparently this caller was allowed to mention various people here in Washington, especially the president, accusing them without presenting any direct evidence to the allegations, and you did not question anything that was said. In fact, you actually ed the position advocated by the caller and incited the listeners against believing any defense by the government. In fact, the SAC was accusing you of allowing classified information to be revealed, as well as trying to incite a public uprising against the government, which borders on treason.” “That’s just ridiculous!” Debra vehemently retorted. “Have you listened to the tape of the interview? That should convince you of the weakness of their accusations.” “Well, actually, I did,” Walt responded. “You see, they brought along an audio copy of your show. I got to listen to excerpts of both sides of the conversation. I normally agree with a somewhat lax policy when it comes to anything to do with

free speech—let the conversation lead to wherever it wants to go. In this case, however, the nature of the conversation between you and the caller, and the previous situation earlier involving the Daily Herald breaking a very similar story opens some doors that perhaps should remain closed. The FBI suspects that your call-in and the source of the information that appeared in the Daily Herald are one and the same person. They would not go into any details, but they said that the preliminary evidence contains strong similarities. “Speaking of the headlines in the Washington Daily Herald, did you know that the attorney general’s office got the paper to retract their story due to, again, the unauthorized release of classified material and not ing either the material or the source beforehand to assure compliance with federal broadcasting regulations. The journalist was fired, along with the City Desk editor, although nothing about it ever appeared in the paper. For all of that to happen, the paper’s owners capitulated to the pressure but only after their attorneys strongly advised them to do so. I have the feeling that our attorneys may recommend the same thing when our owner calls them about the show and the visit by the local FBI. I intend to call him just as soon as you and I finish our conversation, which will happen when I tell you that despite the tremendous response from our viewers, this storyline is done, unless you can find some way of clearing us of releasing classified government information. Understood?” What choice do I have? Debra thought. They suspected Daryl as her call-in last night. And the odds were that he would undoubtedly try to her again. That made ing Charley Whitmore even riskier, as the Herald had been taken to the cleaners, politically, for doing exactly what Debra had just done. The FBI would be looking over everyone’s shoulders for some time to come, and she could not afford to be caught up in any kind of sweep-up of violators. “Yes, sir,” she replied. “Oh,” Walt said as he turned back from walking to his office, “you might want to spruce up your résumé. I know that I’m going to begin updating mine.” With that, he walked away, leaving Debra with a deep, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Chapter 39

Friday, July 16

T he get-together in General Paige’s office was mostly unofficial. There was no way that anyone could order Charley Whitmore to call Daryl with any improvised story in order to get him to confess on tape to being the mysteryvoice caller on Debra Storm’s early-morning radio show. Such a recorded confession would probably not hold up, not just because of the entrapment but also because Daryl would not have been told in advance that the conversation was going to be recorded. However, it was agreed to go along with Charlie’s phone call in any event, if only to scare Daryl into giving up on trying to resurrect his past reputation or getting even for having lost it. Peter itted to feeling a little sorry for his former best friend but realized that something had to be done for everyone’s sake. The immediate problem was convincing Charley to go along with it. Charley had been called into the general’s office mid-morning and was on the couch in the seating area along the wall, when Peter and Paul walked in and took the two chairs by the end tables. General Paige and Lt. Colonel Bradford ed them by moving two chairs from in front of the general’s desk. “Good morning, everyone,” General Paige began. “Charley, do you have any idea why you were called into my office?” “No, I do not, but I don’t believe that it’s about giving me a good-conduct discharge from the base, is it?” “No,” General Paige responded with a smile. “Perhaps later, though, when you have earned one. I really do not know if you have heard—perhaps through the base grapevine—about another anonymous caller, this time calling a Washington radio station during an early-morning broadcast this past Wednesday. The caller’s voice was again disguised, so as not to reveal identity or gender. Have

you heard anything about that?” “And how am I supposed to have heard about it, even through the grapevine, when Carson and I have been kept away from telephones, TV’s, and with almost everyone here for nearly a week—at least it seems that long. What day is it?” “It is Friday, the sixteenth,” the general answered. “We think that it was Daryl again, Charley. The caller was on Debra Storm’s talk show on WASH AM. Are you familiar with that show, Charley?” “Yes, I have listened to it on occasion. What makes you think that it was Daryl?” “Just the nature of what was said. The pace and tenor of the voice, when the two voices were compared—his from earlier on your cell phone against the tape from the broadcast from Wednesday. The FBI has been going over the two recordings and other aspects, and that is the conclusion of their experts.” “So what do you want me to do about that? You have all of the evidence from my involvement with Daryl, including my little trip out here to God’s wasteland. What more can I do? I was promised an exclusive on this story almost from the very beginning, and so far, I have been kept from pretty much all of the information relative to the story.” “We can work something out, Charley, and we will,” General Paige said, trying to reassure the journalist. “This is a story with a legitimate right for the public to know at some point. And you are not going anywhere, certainly not from this location for some time, so there is ample time for you to be given the relevant details for a breaking story. Right now, however, we need to defuse Daryl. Shut him down. And you can help by talking to him and getting him to reveal that, yes, it was him the other night posing again as just another concerned citizen. The show has stirred up a lot of controversy and public reaction. The concern on our part is that the extent of the public reaction could jeopardize this operation, the details of which you will be briefed on in good time.” “How could the public jeopardize this operation?” Charley asked a little defensively. “You just said that they have a legitimate right to know about this story. You can’t have it both ways—trying to hide the details from them, while at the same time maintaining that they have a prefect right to know. Which is it?”

“Both,” the general quickly answered. “The problem is the timing. I said that the public has the right to know at some point, Charley. Too much information at the wrong time can be hard to handle. I am sure that you have heard that expressed from time to time—too much information!—and it can be a problem in this case, because in a worst-case scenario, we cannot control what is revealed and therefore cannot predict what a large group of people exploring around for this secret base would do. Would they attempt to overrun the base? Would they overreact to a perceived threat to their safety and try to kill and destroy what they do not understand? “Just because you, as a journalist, break a piece of news, does not mean that that is the end of it. What if your article is not entirely true? What if your breakingnews story needs more explanation that you fail to provide, in order for the public to react to it with maturity and understanding? What if, as a result, we have to defend this base from a mob unleashed and inciting a riot? I am afraid, Charley, that this is beyond a what-if situation. “Our recent satellite photos show,” General Paige continued, “an increased activity, both day and night, in the desert area in the vicinity of the meeting of the states’ boundaries. The latest perimeter security reports also show increased activity closer to our exact location, despite our efforts to keep our footprint as undetectable as possible, including throwing camouflage netting over the hangar and other buildings and muting our lighting output at night to almost nothing. “Mr. Whitmore, we really need to stop Daryl—it’s in the national interest. Now, will you cooperate?” “Yes,” Charley agreed, “but I don’t know if the phone number that I have is still his cell phone number. He was using a throw-away before; he has probably ditched it by now, I would imagine.” “Well, he was able to call the radio station the other night without leaving a trail, so it appears that he is still using one, although not the one that you have on your cell phone, because the FBI already tried it.” “So what do you suggest?” Charley asked. “And what was the FBI doing, playing around with my cell phone? I thought that you locked all of my personal things away until I was released.” “We did, Charley,” General Paige responded, “right after the FBI looked through

it all. They were able to get Daryl’s last phone number off your cell phone that you used when you called him before you ed Carson to infiltrate the base. We are asking if you know of another number for Daryl or some other way of getting through to him.” “No, I really do not. Why doesn’t the FBI simply step in and ask Daryl about all of this? Even knowing that Daryl was the source for my material, I might not agree to tell you everything in any event. You should know by now that protecting sources, regardless of what kind of people they may be, is the only thing that protects the public’s right to know, because otherwise, most of the news stories, particularly those driven by the insiders, would simply dry up.” “Okay, Charley, enough of the speeches,” General Paige responded with some anger. “I think that the only way to approach this is for the FBI to take direct control as of now.” With that, he nodded to Lt. Colonel Bradford, who rose from her chair, went to the office door, opened it, and motioned to someone in the hallway. Within seconds, a man appeared at the entrance and proceeded in. “Special Agent Mattingly,” General Paige said, “this is Charley Whitmore, former journalist for the Washington Daily Herald. Charley, Special Agent Lyle Mattingly from the Washington Bureau of the FBI. Special Agent Mattingly walked over to the couch and sat down at the far end from Charley. “Mr. Whitmore,” he said, “I understand that you may be willing to assist in confronting Daryl Stark with his performance two days ago on an earlymorning talk-radio show, in which he implicated many people, including the president of the United States, in a government conspiracy to hide aliens on a remote military base and to undermine the Constitution of the United States in areas such as freedom of the press. Is that right?” “Mr. Mattingly, I think that you know what I was trying to do and the story that I was trying to develop. For me, it had absolutely nothing to do with undermining anything or establishing anything that would threaten anyone. I was a journalist —am a journalist—working on what was a legitimate story that the American public has a right to know about. And that is what the function of the press and the freedom of the press is all about. All right, I may have stretched the limits a little by coming onto a restricted military base, and I did know that Daryl was

the source for the story that I wrote and broke in the Daily Herald. But breaking news is what newspapers have been doing for generations.” “Mr. Whitmore,” Special Agent Mattingly said patiently, “while there has been a presumption over the years in the federal courts in favor of the press’s freedom to publish even some classified information, it is not an unlimited freedom. There have been restrictions—understandable restrictions at times—imposed over the years, as in time of war or declared national security, particularly after events such as September 11, 2001. Since then, the presumption of certain press protections in this new reality has not been an easy one to make, for either side. “The Department of Homeland Security was established as a result, which allowed for greater government control in time of a variety of threatening events to the country and its citizens. Certain previous restrictions that may have existed on security and intelligence-gathering agencies, such as the NSA to wire tap and data mine for information relating to terrorist activities inside the country, were relaxed. We are certain that Daryl Stark knew that information he was receiving while involved in the story was indeed highly classified for national security purposes and remains so to this day. Yet he chose to compromise the security clearance that he was granted by giving you some of that classified information at the time and thus, by definition, jeopardizing the public’s trust and the nation’s security in the process. We are certain that it was Daryl Stark posing again as the mystery voice two days ago on that radio program. And you have aided and abetted that process from the beginning. You, Mr. Whitmore, are between the proverbial rock and a hard place at this time. Believe me.” The others in the room knew that the special agent had succinctly summed up Charley Whitmore’s dilemma. If Charley thought that he could glibly talk his way out of it, that illusion was now shattered. Charley Whitmore belonged to the FBI. And so did Carson Plummer, for that matter. “To paraphrase General Paige, as I heard him say earlier while I was waiting in the hallway, you will help us ‘defuse’ Daryl Stark, Charley; shut him down. Now you are to go back to your quarters and pack what few things you may have and prepare to leave with me within the hour. Same for Carson Plummer. By the way, General Paige, we’re going to want all of the equipment that Mr. Plummer managed to have with him when detained. My understanding is that the technology involved in some of that, including the items that allowed him to

avoid detection by your motion detectors, appears to be very advanced and, no doubt, expensive. We will want to track that down to see who was willing to give it to him for his illegal incursion.” “That will not be a problem, I assure you,” General Paige quickly replied. “We have all of that safely tucked away. We have a security detail standing by outside the room. They will escort you to Charley and Carson Plummer’s quarters, as well as securing the equipment that you requested.” “Thank you, General Paige. Colonel Bradford. Let’s go, Mr. Whitmore. You should be happy to be out of this desolate place and on your way back to Washington.” “What’s to go back to?” Charley muttered. “And I was just getting used to the scorpions and sage brush.”

The word had come from the secret manufacturing site. The stabilizer cylinder had arrived without incident late Wednesday night, some hours ahead of schedule. The site had had all of the necessary engineering specifications prepared and sent ahead from the remote base earlier, so it was ready to take the damaged stabilizer directly to the manufacturing process. The gas-driven, hightemperature blast furnaces, standing pits, rolling platforms, and finishing lines were already standing by, with the engineers and operators in position, as the flatbed truck with the securely cradled shrink-wrapped object rolled onto the premises. After two days of further study of the specifications from the base, the company’s engineers and those from the participating countries were becoming more confident that they could have the new cylinder ready in as little as four weeks or about half the time of the most recent estimation. That updated delivery schedule made it imperative that the secret base maintain the tightest security at all times, in anticipation of the finished cylinder arriving back at the base ahead of the original schedule. The security detail was immediately reinforced with additional troops, including service dogs, all accompanied by the return of the army’s latest stealth helicopters for around-the-clock air surveillance. The FBI also increased its presence in the outlying villages and small cities within a two-hundred-mile radius to continue to gain information on the movement of anyone voicing any interest in the strange goings-on in the desert. These agents were able to quickly blend into the scenery, as they all were born and raised in and around this desert area. So far, they had detected a growing interest in the rumors concerning purported activity involving a secret base in the desert housing aliens beings. That corresponded with perimeter reports of more and more off-road vehicles parked around the area, multiple tented campsites with campfires burning, and numerous occupants with cameras, telescopes, and other gear for scanning the horizon and sky, day and night. The base was in the process of preparing for the worst, which could only be imagined at this point. General Atkins now had fulltime access to the overhead satellite that continually streamed down data of the comings and goings of every land or airborne vehicle in motion, as well as those images strictly on foot.

Tubrang Gilf was trying as hard as it could to remain calm. If events transpired now as they seemed to be, the spaceship and its crew could be off this planet and on its way toward the two planets to be populated by those on the Colony ships in a shorter time frame than first anticipated. It was still working out how to evaluate these humans. Treating them as equals was out of the question. It had reconciled the fact that they appeared to have the technology to rebuild the stabilizer cylinder after all, but that certainly did not mean that their civilization was on a level with that of the Council’s , who had achieved such a sophisticated level of knowledge and understanding of this universe, its birth, and eventual assimilation by the next that it would take these humans an eternity to know even a fraction of that. It had taken its civilization an almost immeasurable amount of time to discover that this universe was just in a transformative phase, until its continued expansion drove it beyond its energy envelope into the next dimension, populated by more mature universes. Just as many galaxies end up colliding with and assimilating others, so too, universes did the same. The ultimate outcome, as universes continued to coalesce, was for the accumulated gravity at the core to reach such a level of density that the far reaches of the combined universes would collapse upon themselves. The evercompacted dark energy would eventually reach such an unsustainable level that the entire mass would explode outward at multiple light speed, thus repopulating the void once again with the rudimentary elements that would allow other universes to form within their energy envelopes. And so it goes, Tubrang Gilf thought. In the meantime, life must do what it has to do until the next cycle. What was still to be discovered was how these cycles had started initially. What was the formative spark, that un-nameable force from the depths of the void, that began these timeless, self-perpetuating cycles of life and death? And toward what purpose? What was the primal directive that eternally entrapped all in the insanity of these continual, creative cycles that always seemed to end in cataclysmic death and renewal? In the end, it supposed, whatever measures we end up using to evaluate success versus failure, to rate who wins and who loses, who is worthy and who is not,

are at best only arbitrary, for the time in which they would have any value is finite, as the expanding universes in the end become one, suffer through the ultimate collapse and death, only to be disbursed once again into the void— always!

Daryl Stark reeled with swirling emotion. All he could envision at the moment was a steady decline into a black future and the lack of power to stop it. Right after his stint on Debra Storm’s radio show, he had imagined an immense media reaction to his revelations about things alien and government cover-ups. Debra had assured him, during breaks in the broadcast, that the listener response was amazing and probably would break some records. It was almost as if the listening public was just waiting for someone to for them those things that they had suspected were occurring all along. And Daryl, the mystery voice, was there as the messiah, bringing them the word. Once the call for revealing the mystery voice became overwhelming, he would emerge as the champion of the people, daring the government to begin any measure of prosecution, for it would be seen as persecution by the citizens of the country. He could then take his notoriety nationwide, tying in his unquestionable importance in the seat of national government with that of the voice of the people across the breadth of the country, But since then, nothing! It was basically the same reaction that had occurred after Charley Whitmore’s breaking story in the Washington Daily Herald. What was the matter with these people? Didn’t they know what this was all about? That there were those in the world who know what is happening, who control the information, which is power, and deserve to be listened to and respected? How do they think that their government and its agencies operate? Daryl asked himself. Not through the will of the people but by the direct control of and timely flow of information. Power is won or lost, people elected to office or not, programs implemented or not, simply by having the access to valuable information in a timely manner and the power to use it to advantage. Why is someone ahead in the polls for a particular election and others not? Why does a particular bill and is enacted and affirmed, such as the National Health Care Act, and others not? Why does someone get appointed to a high-level position and others not? The timely sharing of relevant information between those in the know is always the clear answer. The moneyed people, those who would invest in a person or a movement or against such, would want to have all of the available behind-the-scenes info in front of them before doing so, because it all boiled down to the percentages, in

knowing the odds so as to minimize the risk. That is what Daryl had always provided those in Washington who were potential king makers, and they would always pay dearly for being able to have the goods on both friends and foes alike. But where had that success gotten Daryl? Those whom he had feted, had puffed up in importance well beyond their deserving, and had protected and defended had now abandoned him. No one returned any of his calls, and he had made many dozens of calls on his untraceable throw-away cell phones of late. While he could go out of his condo and throughout the city wearing this ankle monitor, who would allow him into their homes or offices and risk the chance that his presence would negatively rub off on them? The sudden bell chime indicated that someone was at the door. Immediately, Daryl hoped that it might be Debra Storm coming to see him. Or perhaps Charley Whitmore—but why not a call first? Same with Debra, actually. Only then did he that he had disposed of that phone, so they could not call. He looked at the hall monitor on the wall as he approached the door and noticed two men in dark suits with dark ties and glasses. Something told him that his bad luck had not changed. He still hoped, however, that somehow he could talk his way out of this predicament.

Chapter 40

Monday, July 19

“G ood morning, Madam President,” General Paige spoke, as the TVs on the wall blinked on with the image of the White House bunker, with President Hunter, her national security advisor, and several of her Cabinet present. “Good morning, General Paige. How are you holding up out there?” “Very well, thank you. We are looking forward to things winding down here in a little over a month from now, as far as the ship’s repair is concerned. The tentative completion schedule for the end of August is looking good.” “Wonderful,” the president replied. “And your security situation, from the data that I have seen, including satellite images—it does not appear that there is any real threat there at the moment, despite the growing activity.” “That seems to be the case, though we have to remain at alert status just in case. Has Charley Whitmore arrived back in Washington with Special Agent Lyle Mattingly? And what is the status of Daryl Stark?” “Well, that was part of the reason for this quickly called get-together. To answer your first question, yes, Special Agent Mattingly arrived early this morning with Mr. Whitmore and Mr. Plummer in tow. They are at FBI headquarters as we speak, along with Daryl Stark and his attorney. They are being questioned separately—at least that is my understanding—with the agency trying to play Mr. Whitmore and what he knew against Daryl and what he is asserting. Also,” the president added, “and you may find this interesting, the FBI attempted to question Ms. Debra Storm, the radio personality at WASH AM, about her role in what has now been confirmed as yet another Daryl Stark mystery impersonation, but all inquiries are now to go through her attorney, which is not the same firm that represents WASH AM, by the way. I think that it is safe to say that Mr. Daryl Stark is going to be otherwise occupied for some time to come. I do not

think it likely that we will have to worry about another source, disguised voice or otherwise, complicating things for the duration of this situation.” “That is good news,” General Paige said, with others in the headquarters room nodding in agreement. “Just to close this chapter, though, does this also include Carson Plummer? Has he been convinced to behave himself in the meantime?” “Well, that brings up an interesting twist in his involvement. As you may recall, the FBI took a particular interest in some of the equipment that Mr. Plummer used to gain entry onto the base and to remain undetected, at least the first time. The camouflaged air-conditioned suit that he wore that prevented the infrared equipment from picking him up piqued their interest right off, because apparently it is a classified piece of equipment still being secretly tested and perfected under close military security. The small explosive devices that he used to misdirect the motion detection equipment are also of interest, for the same reason. Both types of equipment are not currently on the market, of course, and normally would be impossible to obtain while under development, even by our military. Military equipment of most types always seems to eventually make it onto the marketplace, unfortunately, but how did he acquire them?” “Yes, I share your concern about that, Madam President,” General Paige responded. “Actually, General Atkins and I were discussing that camouflage suit early this morning, as well as the light concussion devices. If Carson Plummer was able to get that equipment, others might have access to it as well. It is possible that someone was able to get hold of the engineering specifications for both and is now able to surreptitiously produce these items, which was the main reason for increasing the satellite surveillance. That is something that must be looked into right away. We are assuming that we will see incursions onto the base at some point in the not too distant future. We think that we have not seen any so far, because word has leaked out, from whatever source, about Carson and Charley being apprehended. You mentioned, Madam President, that Daryl and Charley were just part of the reason for this meeting. What else is on your mind?” “As you can see, General, with me are my national security advisor, secretary of state, and secretary of defense. Soon to us will be our head of Homeland Security, Mr. Jason Matthews. He is on his way, after having testified behind closed doors at a Senate subcommittee earlier on issues relating to the this very subject that we have been dealing with for the past five weeks. The concern is

twofold. The first concern is the ability to defend against the next potential alien assault. We were very fortunate this time. Those of us who are currently in a position to know realize just how close this was, and we still have to complete the repair on the remaining alien spaceship without incident. The discussion taking place in the highest offices involves having to implement decisive improvements to both Telescope and Stingray, particularly Stingray. We need to be able to successfully fight off or deter any future attempt to attack the planet by whatever alien force from whatever part of our galaxy or the universe. Until now, we never imagined such a threat. Now, we cannot ignore one. We will have to learn quickly on this, and it will have to involve the efforts of the entire planet. “The second concern is, how do we go about informing and involving the entire planet about that and about what has transpired? We have currently on board a relatively small cadre of those on a need-to-know basis, including cleared individuals in our allied governments. Reason suggests that the number involved has to be expanded in order to fully implement the requirements of the first concern, if for no other reason. But again, how do we go about bringing on board other countries, beyond our allies, which will entail informing those governments that are not necessarily our friends? Your comments on this so far, General Paige.” “Well, Madam President, you are correct in identifying the underlying problem. There are those situations in which maintaining a high level of security is still necessary, particularly because of the unpredictable nature of the situation. This is what we have been trying to accomplish currently and for that reason. Part of the problem there, as we well realize, is trying not to fall under the spell of keeping the level of secrecy so restrictive that we limit the ability of the system to react, because too few individuals are in the loop. Another related problem is convincing ourselves, after a period of time with no apparent breaches, that our security system is infallible, whereas the more people involved, the greater the likelihood that someone will spot the discrepancies that may be overlooked. “There is the other side of the coin, which is having too many involved and trying to manage all of that diversity. What is that old saying, “Too many cooks can spoil the broth?” My advice is to keep in mind those other governments that should be involved under certain circumstances but to not rush into doing so now, particularly if past involvements have proven unsatisfactory. And I am sure that list is fairly long. We certainly can further upgrade both Telescope and

Stingray to higher performance standards without having to involve others beyond the current need-to-know list. Again, keep it simple, and do not create problems that are not already known. That also applies to our continuing to keep information from leaking further in Washington and beyond this base.” “Thank you for your honesty, General Paige. I appreciate it, as I am sure my colleagues here do. General Atkins, what do you say?” “Well, Madam President,” General Atkins began, “I have to agree with General Paige, not because he outranks me but because his opinion is a reasonable one. I think that we have to make certain that we have this situation under control here, that we fully understand it here, before we attempt to broaden both the knowledge and involvement bases around the planet. I do think that we, along with those allied to us, can adequately provide for the type of defense—or offense—needed to protect us from another such threat. Why bring others on board when in all probability, it will only contribute to unnecessary disagreement and headaches. Look at what goes on at the United Nations, for God’s sake!” “I see,” the president quietly responded. “I have to tell you that while I respect your opinions on this, I am leaning toward advising certain other governments— only at the diplomatic levels—about these matters of late, if only to be on top of what will undoubtedly be releases of at least some parts of classified information in the not too distant future. In fact, according to reports from the State Department—and David Boyle is here to attest to them—there are already reports and many rumors circulating around the international community about events that we know to be true but are being fueled now by mostly speculation. If this gets out of hand, we may not be able to control the most outrageous reactions across the globe. This, after all, does affect the entire planet. For some nations to find out, after the fact that our planet was nearly invaded by a large alien force and may be in the future could very well result in tremendous, negative political fallout. Secretary Boyle, you have something to add to what I have just said?” “Yes, I do, Madam President,” the secretary acknowledged. “As you have mentioned, these reports and rumors are already circulating, so we should assume that they will only continue to grow. It is probably for the best, in both the short and long term, if those at the highest levels of government—whatever government—deal with the facts, rather than with constantly rehashed, misdirected speculation. There is no better way to handle this right now than to

begin releasing information that we know to be true to the governmental levels that can handle and protect it.” “General Paige?” the president said. “Your reply,” “Yes, Madame President. I agree with what you and the secretary have said. Any reservation on my part has to do with protecting Telescope and Stingray. I say that because of the implications to national security if word of those programs should inadvertently leak out in the process of informing others. Keep in mind that at some point, someone is going to ask the question, ‘How did you know about the possible alien attacks so far out?’ It also is imperative that this base and the repair of the alien craft remain a secret as long as possible, if not forever. That would include any questions about an alien craft landing in this country, about the ship and its crew being held, and about a secret military base. If any one of these is revealed, the rest will surely follow, and we will most certainly lose control beyond a project that will end in a matter of just weeks.” “Ditto from me as well!” General Atkins interjected. “Thank you, gentlemen,” President Hunter said. “You have made some valid points. I agree that the more who know about what has been going on, the more it creates some potentially grave risks for our national security. And I think that inadvertently revealing anything about the ongoing activities at the remote base certainly risks the ability to carry that to a successful conclusion as well. I am going to have to go into closed-door meetings with certain of the security and intelligence-gathering agencies, as well as certain of my Cabinet, Congress, and staff to determine exactly how to proceed. In the meantime, I do believe that we have things under control here in Washington. I will keep you advised as early as possible. “As to your base, General Atkins, and its activities now and in the future, I will keep your strongly worded comments about protecting its secrecy uppermost in my mind, I assure you. I hope that the recent increase in your perimeter security will allow you to continue protecting that over the next few months. If anything comes up to the contrary, my office immediately. Carry on, gentlemen.” “Madam President, if I may,” General Paige piped in. “Now that we are approaching the end of the alien ship’s repair, I think that we should begin seriously discussing the reason behind why the alien ships turned away from this

planet. It has to do with the results of the environmental survey that Tubrang Gilf conducted on his unannounced foray into space a month ago. He has revealed the general results of the survey to us, and we need to begin addressing them.” “Unfortunately, not at this moment, General,” President Hunter quickly said. “I have meetings to attend throughout the rest of the day. You will have to wait and bring it up at our next meeting, so keep it in mind until then. Okay? Sorry!” “I understand, Madam President. Thank you for your time this morning,” General Paige said as the screen went blank.

General Paige turned to the rest of those in the room, which included General Atkins, Lt. Colonel Bradford, Peter Harrigan, Colonel Livermore (the officer in charge of base and perimeter security), and Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant. Paul Harrigan and Katrina Douglas, both at NASA temporarily, and Karl Holzhauer, assigned to NASA from Europe’s space agency, were all due back at the base within a week. At that time, Peter and Sara were scheduled to leave for at least a week’s R&R before the base activity picked up again. “As was mentioned before,” General Paige began, “this is the stage in which we have to stay alert and prepared for action in the midst of what amounts to a stand-down of activity until the new cylinder is delivered. Again, it is probably easier to get distracted when there is nothing to keep a person active on a regular basis than it is when there seems to be too much on one’s plate. Now, as the meeting with the president has made clear, there is a healthy level of disagreement as to how to treat the recent events within our government and country and the rest of the world. What was never mentioned was the alien perspective; namely yours, Tubrang Gilf, and your crew. “When we discussed keeping certain things secret, such as this base and what is going on here, we were also talking about you and your current situation. Indirectly, we were also talking about the earlier attempt by your civilization to invade our planet. To put things in perspective, I would like to know what you are thinking about those events, particularly the repair of your ship and your ability to depart our planet and your civilization on its new venture.” When Tubrang Gilf glanced toward its command assistant, it appeared to be taken aback by General Paige’s remarks and by his request for the alien commander to come up with a summary statement, perhaps to be accompanied by an apology, of all that had unfolded over the intervening weeks. There was a pause lengthy enough for some to begin thinking that maybe Tubrang Gilf would defer from answering. But then the ship’s commander clicked into the translator. “I have come to appreciate more fully your efforts on our behalf, particularly since the stabilizer cylinder was successfully removed and transported to the facility where it will be

remanufactured. Until then, I it that I was not so convinced of your abilities to do that, despite your obvious intentions to do so. As to the major issue between us—your reference to our inhabiting your planet—I am most moved by your continued assistance to us in the face of that threat. It bespeaks strongly of a high level of maturity and discerning thought and a command of action at the top of your government and military structure, in the midst of unending challenges. That is much more advanced that I had anticipated. “To explain the intentions of my civilization to survive under the circumstances handed to us, I ask you again to put yourselves in our situation. I can do no more than that. I will say this: the Council and the rest of the AKARs will hear of your heroic actions on my behalf and that of my crew. They will know that you are a civilization worthy of their high regard and concern. Now that it seems the we have the repair of my ship assured, I would like to spend the remainder of the time here on your planet meeting with your government and others who may be recommended, concerning the other issue at hand, namely the rescue of your planet from the ravages of your civilization. That issue has not gone away and will not correct itself automatically. It will take a drastic change in attitude and frame of mind, which I have concluded is going to take some effort. “We will start off by sharing the data that we amassed while test flying our ship some days ago. To set that situation straight—yes, we were taking a survey of your planet to determine its suitability for habitation, but we were also testing a repair to our atmosphere generation system, which, coincidentally failed at about the same time as did our stabilizer. That environmental data will conclusively show a degradation of your atmosphere and planet surface over a period of hundreds of thousands of years, rising as your human population grew, and particularly since the advent of your industrialization. To restore it to natural harmony will take a complete investment over many centuries, which I am not positive you are capable of making in a timely fashion, either conceptually or physically. That is why we must start immediately.” Not surprisingly, the room turned quiet, as each person thoughtfully processed everything that Tubrang Gilf had just mentioned. The issue of the planet’s health had been raised earlier, but the repair of the ship’s stabilizer had taken precedence. Now that completing the repair was drawing near, Tubrang Gilf’s insistence on addressing the subject of resurrecting the planet’s environmental health made sense, as those in the room recognized.

“Tubrang Gilf,” General Paige began, “we welcome your thoughts and appreciate your comments on our efforts to assist you. I am grateful—and I am sure that others will share in my sentiments—for your offer to assist us in better managing our planet. As you have suggested, now is the time to begin the process. With the repair nearly out of the way, our government and industry and those of the other industrialized countries who are aligned with ours in the global economy will hopefully have the inclination to begin what needs to be done, with your insight and guidance, of course. We now need to get the president and Congress involved, which I intend to do at our next meeting. I do anticipate some continued resistance, however, from a number of sources, including the White House. We will just have to apply a subtle pressure and continue with it. Hopefully, it will not take much time for the accumulated data to prove convincing. “ittedly, our civilization has not given much thought about respecting what is a natural system. Its ability to function naturally requires an appreciation of and respect for those natural functions, which can be easily and severely disrupted over time without the requisite knowledge and understanding. That is where you will come in, Tubrang Gilf. You will have to speak up for this planet, so that we will learn and heed your warning. To do that, we will have to find a venue in which you can be effective. Are you willing to do that? If so, then we can start right now, through the office of the president of the United States and then eventually through the governments of other countries. We can build a consensus on this, because there is already a fairly strong global movement toward the very thing that you are proposing. It just needs a strong voice that people will listen to, a voice that will coalesce that effort into an unstoppable one, and that would be yours.” “I am willing to do that, General,” The alien commander responded, “but how will you continue to maintain any element of secrecy about the base and our presence, if I am to address the humans of this planet, even if through your government?” “I think that President Hunter will eventually be receptive to seeing your data, particularly in conjunction with data that NASA and NOAA have compiled over many decades. After that, we will have to augment the current security arrangements already in force to accommodate your involvement in this global initiative. Now that I think about it, Paul Harrigan and Katrina Douglas are due back before week’s end. They would be the perfect ones to meet with the

president to introduce this new topic. Both have been associated with NASA for years and are privy to the mounds of information generated by various scientists, both at NASA and our universities, particularly satellite photographs and weather data. I believe that you mentioned that you were going to prepare a schedule to inform and advise on initiating the necessary programs for the environmental turnaround. How is that coming along?” “Yes, I did,” Tubrang Gilf replied, “and it is finished. When Paul Harrigan and Katrina Douglas return to the base, we can present all of the relevant data at that time to your president. Which brings up a question: will Karl Holzhauer return as well and us?” “I am not sure when Karl will return,” General Paige said, “but when he does, he can you. He can be of help promoting your schedule among the European nations. So for the next month, until the finished cylinder is en route back to the base, we will concentrate on your assistance to help this planet heal. We will see where we have progressed at that time.”

Chapter 41

Wednesday, August 18, through Friday, August 20

T ubrang Gilf was standing outside in back of the hangar, watching the early morning sun rise in the sky. It was summing up the events since its spaceship’s stabilizer cylinder had been removed in mid-July and yesterday’s word that the new cylinder would be shipped back to the base in less than two weeks, with an arrival schedule of early morning on August 30. It was anticipating the installation by the end of that day and a possibly flight test the next morning. If everything checked out, the commander and its crew could theoretically depart any time after that. For some reason, however, Tubrang Gilf was not as eager as it anticipated to proceed on to that distant solar system where its Council were attempting to reestablish their civilization. Whether it would prove successful, it did not know, as no messages had arrived in some time from that location. In the meantime, while the spaceship’s crew were kept busy preparing for the pending arrival of the cylinder and subsequent departure, the ship’s commander had been engaged in a cooperative effort to inform and advise the leadership of this country, and others in an area known as Europe, on the imperative task of environmental control. It had started some weeks ago with another meeting with this country’s leader, referred to as the president—a meeting that did not seem to have gone very well at first. The meeting was to have been scheduled for a time after the arrival back on the base of Peter’s brother, Paul, Katrina Douglas, and Karl Holzhauer, all associated with the planet’s space exploration programs, which, according to Tubrang Gilf, were still feeble attempts at best. Once on the base, they were to have provided the alien commander with a high volume of scientific information, including overwhelming satellite photographic evidence showing the coincident effects of a dramatic and unstoppable increase in population, the rapid rise of industrialization around the globe, and an alarming decrease in the planet’s ability to naturally regulate its surface temperature, partial evidence

being the continued decrease in polar glaciers. However, the meeting had to be scheduled a day early, before the arrival of the others, due to a change in President Hunter’s schedule. It would include the president, along with her NSA, secretaries of state and defense, and many of her staff. Generals Paige and Atkins, Lt. Colonel Bradford, Peter Harrigan, and Tubrang Gilf would be at the base. The meeting had begun on Wednesday, July 21, at eight o’clock sharp: “Good morning to everyone out there,” the president began. “I hope that everyone is keeping busy and cool. I’ve been told that you have been experiencing some record-breaking temperatures recently.” “Yes, Madam President,” General Paige said, “most every shipment to the base has contained portable air conditioners. Our problem has been increasing our generator power to accommodate the rapid increase in resident demand, since we have upgraded our perimeter security force.” “I see,” President Hunter acknowledged, “and how is your upgraded security force performing, General?” “Taking everything into consideration, Madam President, extremely well. We have had several serious attempts at penetrating the perimeters, but they have all been stopped at the first ring, which means that the troops driving around the outermost perimeter have been able to continually stop those attempting to find a way onto the base and have turned them away. As you know, one of the main reasons is the continuous satellite feed, which certainly gives us a big jump on those approaching the base perimeter on a real-time basis. Also, the information from the FBI concerning the camouflage suit that Carson Plummer used to penetrate our security early on has been helpful in thwarting any further attempts using that kind of equipment. “According to that report from the FBI, the Bureau has determined that the suit was indeed fabricated from engineering specs from the company manufacturing such equipment for our military. Someone had managed to walk out of the company with those specs and sold them to outside ‘investors,’ as the FBI referred to them.” “Yes,” the president agreed, “apparently, they still do not know exactly who

inside that company was responsible for getting the specs out, although the FBI thinks that they have narrowed it down to an individual who resigned from the company at about that time and has since left the country. Thanks to Carson Plummer, however, we did find out from whom he got the suit—not surprisingly, a well-connected fringe militia group calling themselves Guerillas for the People’s Government.” “Anything more on infiltrating that group and bringing them down?” the general inquired. “Nothing that I am allowed to reveal at this time. They are well connected, as I mentioned, and as such are protected by many far-right politicians from the most ardent guns-rights states, which means that they have representation, of sorts, in our Congress. But on to other issues,” President Hunter said, announcing an end to that part of the meeting. “What do we have going on now that necessitates this meeting. Anything to do with completing the repair to the alien ship?” “Well, not exactly, Madam President,” General Paige said with some hesitation. “That is pretty much still on schedule for the end of August. No, this has to do with what I intended to introduce at the last meeting. The topic is the planet’s environment, and Tubrang Gilf’s prediction of a dismal future for mankind not too far down the road, if we do not aggressively address it now. It may be time to consider putting this on your plate. The commander has come up with a very comprehensive schedule to put in place, over the next several decades, a program that will turn this whole idea of what to do about global warming on its head. Tubrang Gilf has titled it the Save the Earth Project, for it focuses on the fact that this phenomenon does involve the entire planet and will take the commitment and efforts of all of humanity to carry it out. “The preliminary evidence that I have seen is unbelievably comprehensive, Madam President. I do think that it will be worth your time and that of your istration to consider Tubrang Gilf’s proposal and presentation at this time. After that, Tubrang Gilf and those returning to the base soon who are associated with our space program, including research into global warming, will put together the Save the Earth Project for you to present to other governments through the State Department and other avenues.” “Frankly, General Paige,” the president responded, “I am a little surprised at your ardent proposal. I know your political leanings, not that that should have

anything to do with doing my job or your job, but most of the more conservative people with whom I have dealt with in this city have tried to stay clear of the topic of global warming. It can be a career killer, like taking a stand in favor of gun control legislation. What gives, General Paige?” “As I said, Madam President,” the general forcefully replied, “I have seen the results from the environmental survey of the planet that Tubrang Gilf and his crew performed while on that unscheduled flight of theirs, and you should too. It may be a hard sell from your perspective at the moment, but the more the nonscientific community sees and hears, the more convinced it will be that time is not going to automatically be on our side, when it comes to the continuing combination of growing global populations competing for diminishing energy resources. “If not for a deteriorating environment due to that, we will also have the evergrowing threat of constant war, including that of nuclear annihilation, when the industrial powers have no choice but to secure what limited resources remain by whatever means available. This is exactly what Tubrang Gilf’s civilization faced eons ago, only to eventually be threatened by planetary collision. As president of the United States of America, is that a global legacy that you want to on to your grandchildren?” “And this is all a part of Tubrang Gilf’s survey results—nuclear war and all?” the president quietly asked. “Every gut-wrenching detail is included, along with the basis for the probabilities that underlie the predictions,” General Paige replied. “And its survey results and the subsequent predictions are based on historical environmental data that goes back thousands of years and, according to our NASA experts, matches up perfectly with the timing of events that we know have occurred in our past and are occurring as I speak. In other words, according to the alien survey, coupled with our own scientific research, we are on track for inevitable destruction.” The president did not appear convinced. She sat at the table in the White House bunker, twirling a pen and tapping a foot. Those around the table were silent as well, not wanting to break the silence without something career building to contribute. Just as General Paige was about to use a different tactic, a clicking sound filled the room and got the attention of those in the bunker.

“Madam President,” the metallic-sounding voice started, “this is Tubrang Gilf. I did not want to create an atmosphere of burdensome discontent and uncertainty by revealing what I have about your planet’s future but rather to convince you, as General Paige has tried to do this morning, that your civilization must act. I say this because mine had to do this exact thing several hundreds of thousands of your years ago. The circumstances were much the same and probably will always be whenever you have so many life-forms competing for any planet’s resources. Keep in mind that it takes billions of years for the universe to do what it naturally does—that is, to create those mysterious elements that will lead to just the possibility of life, let alone sentient, intelligent life. Do not take for granted what you have. None of this is automatic, by any means. “What takes the universe millions and billions of your years can be undone within just the slightest fraction of time. The universe works slowly to create. In contrast, it seems that sentient, intelligent life only works quickly to destroy it, as if it always develops a godlike attitude of entitlement, combined with a limitless desire for enrichment at all costs. It usually discovers too late the benefit of living simply, in harmony within the time frames and dictates of the larger body. We learned this the hard way. In the process, we almost destroyed ourselves before the death of the planet could. I hate to put it this way, but the wars saved us, for we developed the means to kill efficiently enough that we annihilated most of our population in a short period of time. Again, the few tried to capture what resources remained, denying it to the others less powerful. Only when our population was almost completely decimated could we then have enough resources left to sustain those who remained. Your planet is on this course,” Tubrang Gilf concluded. “How do I address you?” the president asked, deferring, for a moment, having to comment on what the alien commander had just said. “Do I say ‘Mr. Gilf’? Or ‘Mr. Tubrang Gilf’?” Tubrang Gilf hesitated, obviously taken aback that this country’s leader would interrupt its sincere attempt to help out these humans by engaging in meaningless bantering. How much more hapless could these creatures possibly be? it wondered. “The ‘mister’ that you have mentioned is not used, rather an honorific that is embedded in the name that I am called. All of the AKARs are referred to in such a way as to include the same level of respect. So, Madam President, I would not

worry about that any longer, if I were you.” “I see,” the president responded in a tone that indicated at least a small level of irritation at having been somewhat put in her place. “And what is it that you now suggest for this government?” “If you decide to take what I have said with even a small amount of credence,” Tubrang Gilf responded, “I would suggest that you, as president, begin to do something about it, for time is of the essence. You need to use your position of power to enlighten the rest of your planet as to the horrible consequences that will befall it if nothing is done. You can only hesitate long enough to see for yourself the compiled evidence that s my claim, keeping in mind that many of your own have already raised this alarm but have been largely ignored in favor of easier and more readily available short-term rewards. This evidence that I speak of will be made immediately available to you, including that of those who will return to this base within the next few days. I encourage you to pay attention to it, madam.” With that, Tubrang Gilf proceeded to walk out of the room, followed by its command assistant. Almost everyone in both rooms remained quiet, the only noise coming from those who were nervously coughing and shifting in their seats. The president was still twirling her pen. “General Paige, what did I do wrong here?” President Hunter asked. “I was only trying to get a grip on what this alien creature was trying to tell me. Do I not have a right to ask it questions? Did it think that I do not have a right to do that? Does it not know my position—that I am the leader of the world’s most powerful country?” “Madam President, may I be blunt in my response?” General Paige asked. When the president nodded, he continued. “As chairman of the t Chiefs of Staff, I serve you, as do your nonmilitary staff , including your Cabinet. I cannot speak for them, but I would say that we do it out of respect, not just for the person occupying the position but for the position itself and for the country. With all due respect, I think that you did not give this issue the amount of importance that it deserves. In addition, you did not give Tubrang Gilf the amount of respect that it deserves, given what it is trying to accomplish for this country and the planet. I would also add that you did not give me the respect that I deserve for attempting to briefing you on the evidence. Because of the nature

of what is occurring, we cannot afford to treat this topic lightly.” “General Paige,” President Hunter responded, “I do apologize to you if my attitude in any way appeared as a level of disrespect toward you or anyone. As to Tubrang Gilf, my intention was not to treat it lightly as an individual or to treat any of this lightly. When I asked it how to address it, it was a thought that had just occurred to me, and I wanted to be sure that I properly understood it. I apologize as well to it for perhaps being a little forward with my question. I it that I do not understand everything about this, and am just trying to get a feel for the nature of the issue and the evidence that s it. This brings up a question that I could not ask up front: how can we be sure that this alien can be trusted? After all, just weeks ago we were preparing for what appeared to be an imminent alien invasion, perpetrated in no small part by this Tubrang Gilf individual. Now, you expect me to believe that all of this is on the up and up?” “Madam President,” General Paige said, phrasing the question as carefully as possible, “are you perhaps more concerned about what effects its recommendations may have in of the political ramifications down the road selling Congress and the people on those recommendations than you are as to what kind of an individual Tubrang Gilf may be?” “General Paige, you are treading on subjects that are none of your business. What my concerns are when it comes to me and my istration are beyond your responsibilities as chairman of the t Chiefs.” “Madam President,” the general firmly responded, “what I say is out of respect for the office that you presently hold. As chairman of the t Chiefs of Staff, I have responsibilities to advise you, as president, in of what is in the best interests of the country across a broad spectrum of issues and concerns, not all of them directly military. Part of carrying out those responsibilities is to address those issues as they occur that may have a direct impact on the military’s ability to effectively carry out its duties to the country. “You correctly mentioned that Tubrang Gilf was connected to the near invasion of this planet just a few weeks ago. Keep in mind, however, why that invasion did not occur: namely, because that alien commander conducted an environmental survey of this planet that turned up irrefutable evidence that it could not future civilization long enough before it slipped into a disastrous period that put all life at risk and would mean the end of at least most

of humanity. That and only that prevented those alien ships from landing on our planet, and we would have been incapable of stopping them. “Do you really think that Tubrang Gilf would have done that if it did not believe in the data generated by that survey? That conclusion sent those ships to two other planets in the farther reaches of the galaxy. I do believe that that is evidence enough that Tubrang Gilf is on the up and up. My recommendations, therefore, are made to you exactly because of my responsibilities as chairman of the t Chiefs, because it is in the best interests of this nation to be prepared for whatever rises up to threaten it.” The president sat at the head of the table. She was not twirling her pen. Rather, she was looking over at her national security advisor, next to her secretary of state, and then to her secretary of defense. “All right, General,” the president said. “You were right. My hesitation was political, but I will deny that if ever asked in public. I am, after all, a politician, and I did not get elected to this office as the country’s first female president by taking on nearly impossible issues, such as global warming. It will remain not just a controversial issue but one that directly affects the most important thing for almost everyone—the ability to earn a living. The issue of global warming frightens the hell out of the business community, because all they see are increasing regulations and costs that affect their ability to turn a profit.” General Paige was listening and thinking at the same time, a personal skill that had served him well over the years and had helped propel him past others more senior to more rapid advancement and more prestigious assignments. While the president was busy trying to defend herself, he was searching for a resolution to this dilemma. Solving problems for others was something that had always served him well. “Madam President, what if the onus for pursuing this to its logical and necessary conclusion could be ed on to someone else, someone who could quite possibly overcome most if not all objections?” “Who could that possibly be?” President Hunter inquired with a hint of hope. “Certainly not someone with an interest in having a successful career in this city, which would include you, I would think.” “Let me think about this some more. It might just be the answer that we are

looking for.”

Paul Harrigan and Katrina Douglas had returned to the base within a day of one another. They now were in the crew’s quarters in the hangar with General Paige and Tubrang Gilf. Peter and Lt. Colonel Bradford were there as well, but would be leaving the base later in the day to begin their R&R in Stanford and Washington, DC. The meeting was mostly informal and focused on Wednesday’s meeting with President Hunter and her staff. It concentrated on the global survival issue introduced by Tubrang Gilf and the one best way to get and hold the attention of Earth’s population, particularly the governments. “I hope that you understand, Tubrang Gilf,” General Paige was saying, “the political position that the president is in with this particular topic. The topic of a global catastrophe caused by man-made warming is absolutely caustic to many people, particularly—but not exclusively—the conservative business community and those who are anti-science by default. She needs a secure platform from which to promote this, for she could be exposing her istration to a barrage of criticism from the deeply entrenched fossil fuel cartel in this country. Whether you realize it or not, Tubrang Gilf, there are those who will label your evidence ‘junk science,’ because to it to its legitimacy would be tantamount to total surrender of their political and economic principles and control.” “General Paige?” Katrina Douglas chimed in. “Yes, Katrina?” “Paul and I had a moment to briefly scan Tubrang Gilf’s data just before the meeting. We will look it over more extensively once we conclude here, but we can say with utmost confidence that, while the data offered is truly extensive, and our examination of the scientific data was cursory, it completely convinced us that we must own up to the fact of global warming, and do it now. If you are looking for a secure platform that will protect the president from the inevitable negative fallout, we have to find a way to get Tubrang Gilf’s data introduced into the equation. Believe me, it is absolutely convincing. Paul will bear me out on this.” “Yes, I will, General,” Paul said. “There is no way that anyone can deny the direction in which this data leads us. As our alien friend keeps telling us, we

need to do something immediately, but our efforts so far have been haphazard at best.” “I have been thinking about that, since the strained meeting with the president on Wednesday,” General Paige responded. “As I mentioned to Tubrang Gilf afterwards, we have a system of give-and-take that provides for disagreement at times. The problem always is trying to build consensus from that. What we have to do is come up with an idea for putting this argument before the global population by using our one best asset—Tubrang Gilf. Unfortunately, we still have the need to keep a lid on what is happening here at the base. The agreement was that we would keep this entire thing secret, even after the departure of the alien ship and its crew. “How do we continue to accommodate that requirement and also take advantage of Tubrang Gilf’s mind-numbing data? My initial idea was to have the two of you and Karl tour to different sites, such as universities and scientific organizations, giving presentations on the survey findings. They would be invited to go over the data to confirm its validity to the degree possible, but the security of keeping the source of the information private for the time being would have to be complete.” Tubrang Gilf spoke up. “General, what about inviting certain persons to the base —secretly, of course—to see for themselves how the findings were obtained? I am referring to actually taking them into orbit and conducting certain tests and experiments in their presence, starting with your president. Later, we could include other officials who have appropriate security clearances, perhaps some from your allied countries.” “And how would you do this?” the general asked, intrigued. “As you are aware, our government does not yet have a suitable replacement for our recently abandoned second space shuttle program, to even begin doing that for civilians with any degree of safety. Even our industry is years away from that goal.” “I am not talking about your near-childish attempts at space exploration. Will my ship not be repaired in another month, according to your measure of time?” “General,” Katrina interrupted, “that is an absolutely brilliant idea! The security issue will be the thing, of course, between the time the repair is accomplished and before Tubrang Gilf and its crew depart, but that time will give all of you a

remarkable chance to educate the president, along with certain of her staff, about the true dangers that this planet is facing, while Paul, Karl, and I are off doing the same with other of the government and scientific community, here and abroad. As Tubrang Gilf suggested, they all should have been cleared at the appropriate security level.” “Since we know an approximate date for the shipment of the remanufactured cylinder and the completed repair,” Paul interjected, “perhaps we should work out a course of instruction and a time frame, plus a probable list of people who would qualify as students. We want to make certain that this approach will be both manageable and effective, because we certainly can’t invite everyone who would want to come.” “Okay,” the general responded, “you three begin work on that. I need to talk to General Atkins about security and housing for those who might make the list. I would say, at this time, keep it to no more than two dozen people for the base, although I suppose Tubrang Gilf should be the one to determine that, as it is his ship. Start with a probable time frame for doing all of this, including your curriculum of instruction at different sites. When it comes to the base activity, take into consideration available classroom space as well as space in the ship to accommodate multiple engers. I will get back to you on what General Atkins and I come up with as far as security and housing go. , if this works we will be accommodating some very important people, including your favorite, Tubrang Gilf—the president.”

Chapter 42

Monday, August 30, and Tuesday, August 31

P eter and Sara awoke with the 6:00 a.m. alarm, not at all rested after not getting back to Peter’s barracks room until after midnight, but ready nonetheless for the 0800 hours meeting. The late-night flight out of Las Vegas into the remote base had not arrived until nearly 11:30 p.m. for security reasons. They had worried, while gone, that events on the base would call them back early, but events had remained relatively quiet for the most part, with Paul, Katrina, and Karl Holzhauer back on the base, putting in the long hours in anticipation of the arrival of the new cylinder for the spaceship’s stabilizer device, which was now scheduled for Wednesday, September 1. They had kept in touch with General Paige and the others throughout their trip. The trip had been hectic, with not much time to get a full night’s sleep. But it was nice to get away, even if only for a short time—just the two of them, spending time doing couple things, like dinning out, window shopping, sleeping late, and making love at a moment’s notice. Sara was thrilled to be back in Washington; Peter, not so much. Sara had not been back for many weeks and needed to check up on her place in Herndon and make an appearance at the Pentagon, both for herself and for General Paige. While there, they had inquired through the FBI about the status of Daryl Stark, thinking that maybe they would be allowed to see him, but they were told that he was being held incommunicado while undergoing interrogation. Peter was still ambivalent about Daryl and what he had done, but he wanted a chance to confront him personally, hoping for some sort of a believable explanation. Sara, on the other hand, did not think that Daryl was capable of coming up with anything believable, perhaps because Washington politics had never required it for a successful career, so Daryl never had to learn the behavior. When they left Washington, Sara made Peter promise that, notwithstanding her

military career and orders for a different posting, they would return to the city on a somewhat regular basis. It was only fair, she maintained, if they were also to spend time on the West Coast and in the surrounding desert areas. She knew that she would love the hot, dry desert, with its painted rocks and eroded arroyos highlighted by distant vistas of snow-capped mountains. Whether back East or out West, their life together would prove to be an emotional and intellectual adventure. The two of them were simply perfectly suited for one another in that regard. While in Stanford, Peter had to visit the university, as he had been away for such a long time from his home base, the university campus, that he had to coordinate with those professors who had covered his few summer classes and prepare for the fall term, which was starting up shortly after Labor Day. With the schedule for the spaceship’s repair at the base running into September, he would have to arrange for someone to cover his two fall graduate classes and alert his staff about his delayed return, knowing that everyone would question the reason for his continued absence. Sara immediately fell in love with the California climate, in part because of the time that she had spent in the desert at the remote base. She would not mind, she had thought, to be with Peter later on, after their careers had ended, retired somewhere up in the mountains, perhaps with the dry wind carrying with it the unique sights, sounds, and smells of the still primitive desert. She had that sentiment reinforced when she and Peter drove out to the east toward the mountains for an overnight stay at an out-of-the-way inn, situated on a horse ranch in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. They had arrived around noon, had checked in, and then had a light lunch. Afterward, they had gone horseback riding until mid-afternoon. Sara had the distinct impression that Peter had done this with his first wife and was thrilled that he wanted to share this with her as well. She had gone riding while in Washington, DC, on many occasions at several ranches in the lush, rolling, green landscape that was horse country, west of the Herndon area. As such, she was very comfortable on horseback and enjoyed the contrast in beauty that the desert offered. Afterward, they rested by the pool and in the sauna and then slept the rest of the afternoon until it was time to dress for dinner. The restaurant was a tasteful combination of elegance, set in a comforting western theme. The walls were

decorated with impressive paintings and other artwork that caught the eye and set the tone. (Later, as she walked along one of the walls on the way to the ladies’ room, Sara would discover that a desert-themed painting that caught her eye earlier was signed “P. Harrigan.” She would not be completely surprised, as she had heard someone at the base mention Peter’s success as an artist.) After dinner, they walked quietly around the grounds, holding hands. They looked at the horses still grazing before being led into their stables for the night, and the birds wading in the small ponds. At some point, Peter became quiet and pensive, causing Sara to think that something was up. The relaxing routine of the day had given way to a poignant moment. “Sara,” Peter said, “I want to say that our little vacation has been wonderful. I was worried that something would come up that would spoil it, and I did not want that to happen, not now. I know that we come from different backgrounds —you, a Washington, DC, beauty, loving the pace of city life; me, a man content to live either the quiet life of academia or that of the dry desert, or both, actually.” He stopped walking and turned to look at Sara, taking both of her hands. Now, she knew that something was up. For a brief second her heart stopped, as she suspected that he was going to say something about living worlds apart and that this just was not going to work out after all. “Aw, hell, Sara. Here I am, a college professor, archeologist, and anthropologist, writer, painter—you would think that I could figure out how to handle this, particularly after planning everything up to this point. In a short time, you have made my life so full of joy and happiness, laughter and love. I want you to have this as just a small token of that love and hope for the future … and to ask you to be my wife.” He opened the box, and Sara could only look in shocked surprise at this most beautiful piece of jewelry that she knew he had designed just for her. It was a brushed sterling silver ring with a gorgeous oval-cut diamond in the middle. On each side was a beautiful, naturally shaped turquoise stone of approximately the same size as the diamond. “Back to my comment about you and Washington, and me and the desert,” Peter said with a smile. “This ring is meant to combine the two—you and me. In case

you are confused by all of this, you are the diamond in my life and always will be. I am the turquoise, irregularly shaped, but perfect as long as you are in my life. Marry me, Sara, please.” Sara was shaking, feeling at the same time trapped for something to say and yet emotionally free because of the love of this wonderful man. She walked into his arms and with happy tears flowing down her cheeks, she simply said, “Just say when, darling. Just say when.” Now, as they were starting to get ready for their first day back, Sara stopped in front of Peter and glanced down at the ring on the third finger of her left hand. As she looked up into his eyes, hers started to moisten. “Before I met and fell in love with you, I was a single career woman with too many lonely nights—and days—behind me. As is true with others, I substituted career for other things that are also important in life. Now, I feel complete, not just as a woman but as a person. My army career is important to me, just as your successes are important to you. But our love has given me a perspective that I was missing. We are now the most important thing in my life, thanks to you— you old, desert coyote.” The kiss was the most tender, the hug the most encoming. They stood there for too long a time, if they were to be on time at the headquarters building. Then again, that was their new priority—them.

“Welcome back, you two!” General Paige boomed, as Peter and Lt. Colonel Bradford walked into the meeting room at headquarters at ten minutes after the hour. “I must say that you look exactly like that old saying, ‘death warmed over,’ which means that you must have had a good time.” “Yes, sir,” Lt. Colonel Bradford responded. “The weather cooperated. Flying can still be a pain in the butt, of course. But we had a good time, both in Washington and in California. Your cohorts at the t Chiefs send their regards and are envious that you can still pull the ‘good duty,’ while they still have to suffer the slings and arrows flying around the Pentagon.” The general laughed and motioned them to vacant seats at the table. It was a full house this morning, with everyone present, including the chief engineer for the stabilizer repair project. “As I was telling those assembled here, we are approaching the most exciting time at the base, that being the installation of the newly remanufactured cylinder, which is due for delivery late tonight, probably closer to midnight. The decision will be made shortly after that on whether to go for installation tomorrow morning or on Wednesday. The project’s chief engineer, Allan Stewart, s us this morning. Mr. Stewart will begin preparations for installation right after this meeting. It will be his call as to whether or not that installation is tomorrow or the next day. We should know by when, Allan?” “I would say by several hours before the stabilizer is due to arrive, sir,” the chief engineer answered. “Part of the decision will hinge on whether or not all of the required personnel are in place. Some will arrive with the cylinder, others individually today. I believe all should be in place by this evening,” “Thank you, Allan,” General Paige acknowledged. “Excuse me, General Paige,” Katrina said in a conspiratorial tone. “I believe that an exciting thing has occurred with two of our team that we haven’t been informed about.” With that, all eyes turned to Peter and Sara, as if those on the general’s group knew that it was inevitable.

“Yes, I noticed it myself as they walked in but was waiting for an official announcement,” General Paige said, going along with the moment. “Okay,” Peter chimed in, “Sara and I suspected that you would figure that something would have happened while we both were away … so yes, Sara and I are engaged to be married. For some strange reason, this wonderful woman agreed when I proposed. Go figure, huh?” Everyone in the room either rose from their seats or walked over from where they were standing to shake Peter’s hand and embrace a very happy Sara Bradford. Their congratulations were heartfelt, for many knew of the tragedy that had occurred to Peter with his first wife, as well as of Sara’s failed first marriage. They all expressed their sincere hopes for happiness for two loved and respected of their group. Katrina could not stop iring Sara’s beautiful engagement ring, and all were impressed, but not surprised, that Peter had designed it and picked out the stones. They just could not figure out when he had the chance to do that before their get-away. “Okay, group, time to get back to business,” the general said, using arm motions to get people back to their seats. “Lt. Colonel Bradford and Peter will be around here for some time, so we can celebrate at the Officers’ Club later. And the first round will be on me! We now have to concentrate on what will be that last two things to concern us: getting the new stabilizer cylinder installed and flight tested, and getting Tubrang Gilf’s Save the Earth Initiative off the ground. With that in mind, Katrina, why don’t you and Paul fill us in on what the three of you have come up with so far.” “Thank you, General,” Katrina said as she opened up a folder in front of her. “As you may recall, it was to have been called the Save the Earth Project, but the more we thought about it, the more it sounded like too much of a singular heavy lift, like building the Great Pyramids. So it was decided that the term Save the Earth Initiative invoked the idea from the start that resolving Earth’s environmental problems would require the simultaneous efforts of its entire population, not just that of a large construction crew. “Then, we combined Tubrang Gilf’s brilliant idea of taking some of the primary decision makers in the government and military, who have the appropriate

security clearances, up in its spaceship, so that they could see firsthand how the earlier environmental survey on the condition of the earth had been conducted, with a series of meetings with other decision makers in various strategic locations around the planet that Paul, Karl, and I will conduct. In other words, the journeys into space would be simulcast to these locations, so that the impact would always be immediate and global. That will help moderate the initial resistance and help build early momentum. “All of this will begin as soon as the flight testing is completed,” Katrina continued. “In the meantime, we have to establish the standards and schedule by which the Save the Earth Initiative can be carried out. Security will be a must throughout, because the objective in the beginning will be to involve only those persons who are capable of making those initial decisions that will establish the direction and pace of the global environmental change. We cannot afford to have any of this leak out—that would jeopardize the Initiative from the very beginning, just as we have had to guarantee the security of the base and the repair in order to be able to achieve what we have so far. “We will also have to come up with a tentative schedule and projected funding for just how much can be accomplished in what time frame and the logical steps necessary to do so on a consistent basis. There most certainly will be significant resistance, some of which may have to be fought out in various courts. There will be setbacks for various other reasons. Throughout it all, momentum will have to be maintained, even in the face of outside resistance. During this initial period, it will be necessary to build identity with the cause. By that, I mean establishing someone or a small group that will become the face of the movement, because that is what we will be doing here—building a global movement whose momentum cannot waiver, if the planet is to succeed in reversing the current destructive trend that has been established over centuries.” “Well put, Katrina,” General Paige said. “So to sum up, the project will be known as the Save the Earth Initiative. It will involve a combination of in-Earth orbit flights to acquaint certain government officials and military officers of the validity of the environmental surveys conducted by Tubrang Gilf. At the same time, those flights will be simulcast to even larger audiences of government and corporate officials. And our current security will be maintained or even increased for an undetermined time. Is that about it, Katrina?” “Yes,” she answered. “We can only set up the outline of what we want to achieve

at this time. The flight test will determine the actual beginning of the Initiative. In the meantime, we will just work on ideas and s that will make it work.” “Tubrang Gilf, any further input from you?” the general asked. “No, General Paige,” its answer coming from the translator device. “With Colonel Bradford and Peter back, we will have enough personnel here to build the initial momentum for the Save the Earth Initiative. “Thank you,” General Paige said. “I do have one question for you, though. Given what the group has planned so far, have you given any thought to how long you and your crew will want to delay your departure from Earth given the projected demands of the Initiative? “No,” Tubrang Gilf answered, “I think that the decision will have to wait for some time. As of now, the date of the departure is undecided.” At that point, there was a knock on the door, and General Atkins entered. He walked toward General Paige, speaking as he did. “Warren, we just got word from the convoy with the cylinder. They are still on for a 2200 hours arrival. Also, coincidentally, we are getting more movement along the outer perimeter. I have every soldier out on the line now or scheduled to be later. I’ve also alerted the helicopter crews. We’ll put two up now, with three scheduled for tonight.” “Okay, Charley” the general replied. “Any indication that the increase in movement along the outer perimeter is due to the arrival of the stabilizer?” “Nothing from our sources in the surrounding communities as yet,” General Atkins answered. “No doubt someone out there has a satellite feed to a radio outlet and is monitoring frequencies on a random basis using keyword ID to track certain military and government transmissions, as well as the transmissions from the lead vehicles in the convoy, and that is leading to the increased activity.” “Let’s hope that they lack the organization to do anything about it,” General Paige responded. “Well, that is it for this meeting. We need to spend the time remaining to make sure that we are all ready for the arrival of the cylinder, especially Allan Stewart, although I am sure that he is. In any event, Tubrang Gilf, you will also want make certain that you, your crew, and ship are ready. We

are adjourned.”

Everyone was in the hangar at sunrise on Tuesday morning. The flatbed truck was positioned along the outside wall of the hangar under the gantry crane, and the cables were hooked up to the new cylinder. As the sun peeked above the horizon, the word was given, and the stabilizer slowly rose. Once it hung vertically at the parallel opening in the hangar wall, the crane moved it sideways until it hung precisely above the opening at the top of the spaceship. With various personnel moving about, with hands and arms waving, the cylinder was slowly lowered until it began disappearing into the ship, where the repaired lower drive motor that had been installed last night awaited hookup with the cylinder. Everyone was concentrating so intensely that it was as if they could mentally control the cylinder’s descent. Slowly, with the age of each second, the remanufactured stabilizer cylinder continued to disappear into the alien spaceship until it had completely disappeared. Then, the effort concentrated on fully securing it in its position as the integral part of the ship’s stabilizer system, including installing the repaired upper drive motor. When that installation was announced completed, all in the hangar erupted in applause at the same time, for this represented the end of a process that nearly three months ago would have been thought impossible. It was, for the most part, the culmination of a positive frame of mind and the successful combination of the human spirit, scientific knowledge, and industrial initiative. General Paige and Tubrang Gilf stood side by side on the hangar floor throughout the entire process. When success was finally achieved, the alien commander reached out with its claw-like hand and grasped the general’s right shoulder. General Paige responded by reaching out with his right hand and grasping Tubrang Gilf’s ‘hand’ in his. With that, they walked together toward the spaceship and entered to inspect the completed process close up.

The rest of the general’s group all patted one another on the back or hugged and then walked toward the headquarters building. Now, pending the successful test flight that would occur tomorrow morning, there was a lot of work to do to get the final planning for the Save the Earth Initiative completed. It was now the last day of August. They all wanted something substantial ongoing within the next month. That would mean working through the White House and State Department primarily, and no one was really certain that the president was even on board yet. No one in the group doubted that President Hunter intended to run for reelection. As such, they agreed that she would want to make sure that she would not alienate her base by introducing anything new that would make the electorate uncomfortable. The subject of global warming just might do so by stirring up the opposition. Everyone suspected that she was even more on edge with the alien presence in the country. She just wanted it to go away as quickly and quietly as possible, preferably before any primary debates. No one was surprised when with the White House produced nothing more than the reply that the president was tied up with a busy schedule, even though there was not a hint of any such busy schedule from various sources, including the media. The only thing of note was the ongoing discussion of the budget and why Congress had not been able one since the president’s election. Not even her new chief of staff, Ronald Jolly, or her national security advisor could be reached directly. This created an immediate dilemma right at the start of the Save the Earth Initiative process. The only direction that the group could take was through the president’s chairman of the t Chiefs of Staff, General Warren Paige, and even he might have a rough time of it. “Colonel Bradford,” General Paige said as his adjutant walked into his office, “how are things coming along in the group’s lair? I’ve heard rumors of a bump in the road.” “Yes, sir,” she replied. “May I ask where these rumors have originated?” “I cannot tell a lie, Colonel. Probably at the very source of your dilemma at this time.”

“You are correct, as usual, sir. We have tried every avenue to gain with the White House but to no avail so far. We are definitely going to need the president’s acknowledged on this, if it is to ever get off the ground. Unfortunately, she can hide behind our security screen for the time being. But at some point, she will need to express some positive for the Save the Earth Initiative. Otherwise, the media will tend to ignore it after a while, and we cannot allow that to happen.” “Yes, and the only question is, when can she afford to do that politically?” the general responded. “You know, Colonel, you may have to consider a short-term strategy, one that will allow us to begin spreading the word but within the constraints possibly placed on us by the president for the time being. That will serve to protect the president until she starts feeling pressure that she cannot ignore.” “Won’t that mean going behind the president’s back, though?” the colonel inquired. “And where will that kind of pressure come from, other than in Washington itself? And even then—or particularly then—it will have to be discreet, so that she will have deniability until she may be ready to publically endorse the Initiative.” “Very perceptive, Colonel. Any suggestions?” “Well, I would recommend secretly sending a woman to confront a woman. Where does General Beverly Hamilton stand on this overall issue of what has been going on at this base and in her own town, to the extent that she has been fully briefed on it, sir?” “General Hamilton has been thoroughly briefed on everything, except for this latest development, the Save the Earth Initiative. I know that she took Tubrang Gilf’s warning about the threat of a environmental disaster very seriously, but that does not mean that she would be willing to intervene here or that it would be advisable.” “With all due respect to General Hamilton, sir, and to you and the other generals on the t Chiefs,” the lt. colonel calmly argued, “is it not the responsibility of the t Chiefs of Staff to advise the president on issues of national security, sir, as you argued earlier? I would suggest, sir, that the Initiative would fall under those concerns about the nation’s overall security, for if what Tubrang Gilf has

warned is true—and we believe that it is—the health, safety, and security of the United States will very definitely be threatened in the near future. Perhaps not under President Hunter’s watch, but the president also has a responsibility to protect and defend for the generations yet unborn while commander in chief.” “Does Peter Harrigan have any idea what a remarkable woman he has in you, Colonel Bradford?” “I try to remind him every moment of the day, sir. Then again, I am getting a pretty remarkable man in the bargain, aren’t I?” The general nodded. “Yes, you definitely are. Okay, I will approach General Hamilton. I cannot promise you anything. While I can order her to do this, because I have the seniority and do outrank her, it is not normally done within the t Chiefs. It would undermine the camaraderie within the group. But I think that you have a good idea here. If anyone can convince the president about the necessity of taking a firm stand on this now, particularly while Tubrang Gilf is still here, it would be General Hamilton. Give me a day or two on this, Colonel,” he said, returning to some paperwork on his desk, indicating that she was dismissed for the time being. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” And she left the room to return to the group’s office space, with the general watching her exit, shaking his head in amazement.

Chapter 43

Wednesday, September 1

T he spaceship was pulled slowly out of the hangar by two large commercial aircraft tugs that were attached to the ship with modified tow bars. It was still remarkable that the craft had actually fit inside the Cold War-era hangar, for looking at it on the tarmac, the casual observer would have concluded otherwise. In fact, it cleared each lateral edge by less than a foot and the top by not much more. Now it was free of the hangar and ready for its maiden flight with the repaired stabilizer. The spaceship’s full crew was already on board, going through their version of the preflight checklists and monitoring the various systems’ readouts prior to engine start. Once positioned on the tarmac at a safe distance from the hangar, vehicles, and spectators, a hush fell over the crowd. The anticipation was almost painful for everyone standing in the early morning sun. A seemingly limitless bright, blue sky seemed to suggest an almost limitless future of imagination and hope and belied the dread of the future that was present just months ago. No one could be sure of anything now. The ground crew had finished preparing the spaceship and was walking toward the hangar. Slowly, those remaining to witness the ship’s departure could feel a slight rumbling through the tarmac. The rumbling was then accompanied by an almost melodic echoing sound that seemed to penetrate beyond the inner ear to the very core of the brain. Once there, it had an almost hypnotic effect, lulling the mind into the quiet tempo of the machine before them. Then, the pace of the quiet throbbing rapidly increased, along with the mental and psychological anticipation. The spaceship hovered slightly above the ground. After a few seconds, it seemed to pulsate and grow in size as it lifted directly skyward. Once above the height of the hangar, it proceeded upward for another several hundred feet before beginning to dramatically accelerate. Then,

it was gone! The gathered crowd let out a combined cry of surprise and awe. Everyone looked up and then around them, as if they would find the spaceship hiding somewhere among the buildings or hovering over the distant hills. All were shocked by the spectacle of something so large disappearing so suddenly. It was merely beyond their capacity to comprehend. “Wow!” General Paige exclaimed to General Atkins. “It was one thing to have been told about this spaceship departing unannounced earlier; quite another to actually experience it personally. That power, combined with the ability to hide behind the cloaking, makes it an awesome machine. And we do not know what powers it, nor are we likely to find out.” “No, sir,” General Atkins agreed. “No one who has been allowed on board has been able to get close to their power room or the cloaking device. In the end, I am not so sure how much more we will know about what makes them tick than we did at the beginning. I suppose there will be those out there who, once all of this is revealed at some point, will think that the government was able to reengineer the alien’s technology and that we now have flying saucers.” “Well, let us hope that the stabilizer device works properly. It will take some time to complete the test flight, according to Tubrang Gilf, because they have to get to near light speed and then do some required, critical maneuvers. I do not think that we will see them return to base much before sunset today.” “Any idea how we will know when they are approaching the base, Warren?” “How did it work when they departed unannounced for the earlier test flight?” “I hate to say it, but they just suddenly appeared hovering above the hangar. It took us several minutes to figure out why everyone near the tarmac was standing still, looking toward the sky. They said that they heard or felt the sensation of the craft seconds before it popped into view.” “Well, Charley, we probably should be prepared for the same thing, don’t you think?”

The alien spaceship was voyaging at the outer edge of the humans’ solar system at one-quarter light speed. The was the fastest that it could go when conducting the first phase of an initial test of a stabilizer device, according to the Council’s engineering specifications. The test program had been initiated earlier, and it had automatically taken the ship through the first of the required maneuvers. Part of that testing regimen required the ship to be able to engage the ship’s accelerator in a variety of speed settings, one-half light speed being the highest, while in the preliminary testing phase. So far, the testing was going without a setback. Tubrang Gilf was most pleased and had to once again reevaluate its initial opinion of the capacities of these humans. The remanufactured cylinder was performing flawlessly through this initial testing. The next true test would be going through these same maneuvers at speeds increasing to near light speed, but the ship’s commander was already confident that it would within the required performance indicators. What complicated the testing procedure for the ship’s commander was the intragalactic message that it had received recently from the primary exploratory ship that was now leading the rest of the exploratory fleet, to which Tubrang Gilf’s ship had been assigned, and the first of the colony ships toward the Council’s hope for the ’ survival. The primary ship was now near the two planets to be inhabited by the first of the approaching colony ships. The ship had reported that one of the two planets had been pronounced suitable only for a much shorter period of habitation, but the message did not specify for just how long. That ship’s captain requested to know if the previous long-term status of the planet the inhabitants called Earth could be dramatically changed in favor of colony habitation, if an environmental turnaround could be accomplished through the intervention by the Council, and how long would that take? The requirement was that it had to be accomplished within the next two to three hundred Earth years. The request contained the element of desperation. Tubrang Gilf was hesitant to respond. It had conducted an extensive environmental survey earlier, and the results had been universally negative in of a favorable habitation for the Colony within the next ten thousand years or so. By then, Earth was projected to be in transition to a frozen, lifeless sphere. That could be the result

after thousands of previous years of intense heat and drought. What he had told the humans initially about a remote chance of avoiding that devastation had been part calming influence and part wishful thinking. Now, with their efforts to repair its ship proving to be more and more successful, the alien commander had begun reevaluating its opinion of their potential to overcome technological hurdles and their rights to inherit a better future. It had not completely leveled with them with regard to their chances of succeeding in overcoming the environment challenge, but it could not completely convince itself that they did not stand a chance of actually accomplishing it. Still, it could not relay to the commander of the primary ship anything other than what it had originally: the planet posed a substantial ongoing risk that stretched into the future, and it would take an immediate and aggressive approach to change the inborn, destructive ways of the human strain, with minimal probability of success. It did not add that it was taking on a substantial part of that nearly impossible effort to achieve just that.

As predicted, the alien spaceship suddenly appeared hovering above the hangar. Some of those in the immediate vicinity again reported feeling a tingling, pressure sensation in their inner ears and on their skin just seconds before the cloaking device was turned off, and the ship suddenly appeared overhead. Others said that the area around the hangar turned suddenly quiet, as if all normal noise vibrations in the air were suddenly disrupted. In any event, the spaceship returned and, with internal guidance, set down on the tarmac. Within minutes after shutting down, the ship’s crew was out walking around the ship, doing its post-flight check. Tubrang Gilf emerged shortly afterward and stood on the tarmac close by, waiting for someone of authority associated with the base to approach. Within a short time, Generals Paige and Atkins were seen walking toward the commander, followed by General Paige’s advisory group. “Well, Tubrang Gilf,” General Paige began, “how did the flight test work out? Any glitches?” “The test went smoothly, General Paige,” Tubrang Gilf answered. “The only thing that needed to be done was a slight adjustment to the actuator for the lightspeed accelerator. As you may image, both the stabilizer and the light-speed accelerator are very sensitive to input adjustments. The actuator, therefore, requires readjustment anytime that any work is required on either system.” “Well, at this point, I would say a good job done by all, so far!” the general exclaimed. “With the help of you and your crew, we have come a long way since Peter Harrigan discovered one of your crew struggling in the desert. Now, maybe we can start to get a handle on this Save the Earth Initiative program. When do you think that you, Paul Harrigan, Katrina Douglas, and Karl Holzhauer can be ready, realizing of course that we still have to wait on the president to sign on? That reminds me, I am afraid that I will need to borrow Colonel Bradford for the time being as my adjutant.” “We will be ready, General. That brings to mind that Karl Holzhauer will be our representative in other areas as needed but primarily in the area you call Europe. He has enough of a reputation there, according to Paul and Katrina, that he can be of help convincing their scientists and politicians of the necessity for immediate action on this environmental initiative.”

“Yes, Karl is a good choice for that, obviously,” General Paige agreed. “Do you have your outline and tentative schedule ready when the time comes, which I hope will be within a few days? The president will want to see it. In fact, we may want to forward it to her office in any event, along with our projected funding.” “Yes, General, all of that is ready as well. I would also recommend what you just suggested—to forward this information on to your president. With that in mind, why not send it to your cohort, General Beverly Hamilton, on the t Chiefs right away? If as you mentioned earlier, she has yet to meet with your president, she can be even more prepared for the meeting, whenever it is scheduled.” “Another good proposal on your part, Tubrang Gilf. I do not believe that General Hamilton has arranged a White House meeting with the president as yet, but I will have your work product forwarded to her office today as well. Hopefully, they will have that meeting within the next day or two.” “Very well. I will provide that information for you immediately, General Paige. With that in mind, have you and General Atkins arranged for the upgraded security and housing for those who may be visiting the base for the observation flights?” “Yes, everything is ready there as well,” the general replied. “Now, all we need is a green light from my government. That, and the observation flights with realtime simulcasts to strategic sites on the planet, will create the momentum that we will need.” “I agree. We all are anxious to move forward on this,” Tubrang Gilf said, and walked back to its ship.

Chapter 44

Friday, September 3

S ecurity was in place to protect the president, from the moment her plane touched down at the base. She arrived in a Boeing 757, normally known as Air Force Two when the vice president used it, just after sunset. The Secret Service had been on the base twenty-four hours ahead of her arrival to assure that perimeter security would be flawless and that FBI surveillance of the outlying areas and approaches to the base would prevent any incursions. As the plane taxied off the runway and onto the tarmac, base security and Secret Service vehicles escorted it to a full stop next to the alien spacecraft. All buildings and areas around the hangar had been fully inspected and cleared, and spotters and snipers occupied all of the elevated spots in the vicinity of the tarmac. Every aspect of the tarmac and adjacent buildings was fully lit for this occasion. When Air Force One came to a stop, the ground crew and assorted vehicles, all Secret Service personnel assigned to the president, rolled the stairway up to the plane as army troops, in service-dress uniforms and at parade rest, formed two columns starting at the foot of the stairway. Standing in line to greet the chief executive when she descended the stairs were all the top military brass at the base and Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant. The alien crew were positioned around their ship. The door to Air Force One opened, and President Hunter stepped out onto the platform and slowly descended the stairs. As she did, the military columns snapped to attention. Following her were those of her staff and Cabinet who were necessary to assure a successful mission. As the president stepped onto the tarmac, Generals Paige and Atkins formally greeted her with salutes and then handshakes.

From that point, the president and her entourage greeted and shook hands with the other important base personnel on hand, including: Colonel Livermore, Lt. Colonel Bradford, Peter and Paul Harrigan, Katrina Douglas, Karl Holzhauer, and Allan Stewart. There had been some earlier discussion with the White House as to how the alien crew should handle initial with the president and those accompanying her. It had been decided to approach it in much the same way as one would greet the queen of England—in this instance, to make a slight bow toward the president and each person in her entourage and only shake hands if they offered theirs first. The president, as it turned out, did not offer her hand. At the end of the ceremony, everyone entered the hangar and walked into the flight crew’s briefing room area, one of which had been enlarged earlier to accommodate larger gatherings. Tables had been set up with two head tables and others lined up in T formation from those. Name tags where placed at each seat. The president was up front, along with her NSA, Patricia Thomas; Director of Homeland Security Jason Matthews; Secretary of State David Boyle; Secretary of Defense Patrick Mc Duffy; and General Beverly Hamilton of the t Chiefs of Staff. Generals Paige and Atkins took up the two seats on either side of the president. Chief of Staff Ronald Jolly was also present but was standing off to the side to assure that anything that came up requiring a phone call or with someone outside the room would be handled quietly and quickly. This visit to the secret base had come about after an important meeting, early yesterday morning, at the White House. General Beverly Hamilton had arrived equipped with the latest scientific data from both Tubrang Gilf’s environmental survey of the planet and substantial data accumulated over years of satellite study from NASA and NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric istration. As was true with previous meetings between President Anne Hunter and General Warren Paige regarding the high-risk factors related to global warming, this one did not start out with any promise of government action. The president was in the Oval Office with both her chief of staff, and her national security advisor. “General Hamilton,” the president said after a warm greeting, “I could not say

no to your request for a meeting, because I am always eager to meet and talk to my top military advisors from the t Chiefs of Staff at any opportunity. Your advice and counsel are always important and welcomed. You must realize that I granted you this meeting even though I suspected what the subject of the meeting would be. You see, I have had this discussion on global warming with your boss, the chairman, on previous occasions. It is not that I am uninformed or unappreciative of the nature of the topic and the consequences of inaction; it is just that, politically, my hands are tied. “If legislation were required in order to begin resolving this predicted dilemma, my party would be unable to come up with the votes in either chamber. For me to take center stage on an issue that would have no reasonable resolution at this stage would embroil my istration and my party in controversy that could only harm them. I would remind you of such controversy that plagued President Barrack Obama over his Affordable Health Care Act, which lasted throughout most of his eight-year istration and really has not been fully resolved to this day.” “Madam President,” General Hamilton replied, “General Paige and I have discussed your position in this matter, and we are in complete understanding of the nature of your argument, as far as it goes. We are, however, also agreed that this matter is of such a consequence to the country and the world that you, as president of the United States, have no real choice in this matter. With all due respect, ma’am, your present position as president pretty much locks you in to having to seriously study the matter and then to pursue that course of action that is in the best interests of your country.” “I really should be very angry with you for speaking to me in that manner. I am, after all, your boss, am I not, as commander in chief, for God’s sake? But then, I hear you sincerely advising me that I do have a responsibility to study the matter and pursue a course of action, and I cannot deny that that is true—particularly when it is General Paige and you, both trusted advisors of mine in matters of national security. With that in mind, General Hamilton, convince me on how our national security is in any way threatened by global warming as we know it today and the probability that global warming is going to be our undoing in the future, based on the recent data generated by our alien friend, Tubrang Gilf.” General Hamilton said that going over the accumulated data would take some time, and those listening should include others who might help President Hunter

make a decision on the best course of action. The president said that she was confident with those staff already in the room. “Very well then, Madam President, let me begin. Keep in mind that the data that I am going to present is not just that generated by ‘our alien friend,’ as you referred to it, but also data compiled over decades by both various government and independent agencies. Now, while there are those who oppose any hint of global warming, whether or not driven by man’s activities, and therefore any negative consequences, the data strongly indicates otherwise. That data derived by Tubrang Gilf goes far beyond what humankind has been able to put together. It offers comparative data from other systems, particularly its own, that proves the these planetary systems are very prone to the long-term negative effects of any activity that disrupts the natural progression of things. As Tubrang Gilf has stated, planetary systems operate a lot like the universe as a whole. There is a natural and automatic operational paradigm that, if disturbed, can lead to a collapse of the natural, integrated systems, whether caused by natural calamities, such as volcanic activity, or by outside forces, such as man. “Once that happens, it may mean that some occurrences will come about in relatively short order, such as an ice age that lasts for no more than ten thousand years or so. Others will take longer and last longer, such as the period in Earth’s history when intense global volcanic activity and the accumulation of smoke and gases in the atmosphere allowed for Earth to super-cool, and the planet became a snowball for millions of years. Keep in mind that ten thousand years here or millions of years there really mean nothing to the time scheme of the universe, which is many billions of years old. The important thing at this juncture is what it means to us, the humans who must continue to live on this planet, because we simply have no choice in the matter. We do not possess the capacity, as does Tubrang Gilf’s civilization, to pack up our U-Haul and move to a another, more habitable neighborhood. “Now, as to your current istration and any chances of seeking and achieving another four-year term, only you can decide what is best for you. We are asking you to consider what is best for the country and the world, while you are in this office and are the head of the most powerful country in the world. Keep in mind that this issue of global warming is not new to your istration, nor is the substance of the information ing the prospect of continued warming. All of that was on the back burner long before you became president. Tubrang Gilf’s environmental survey simply put a more immediate

spin on the topic, making the outcome no longer debatable or deniable. The threat facing you and your istration is the tipping-point issue—that if we do not start attacking the reality of it now, in fifty years or so it may be too late to make any difference in the outcome. That is the focus for you and your istration—do you really want to make a difference that is historic in scope? Now, before I get into the data, let me briefly explain how we plan to begin the Save the Earth Initiative …” At the end of that meeting, President Hunter immediately agreed to schedule a quick visit to the remote, secret base for her and certain of her staff. She was not so sure about actually venturing into Earth orbit in the alien spaceship, with or without Tubrang Gilf, but was now convinced enough about the imminent threat of global disaster that she knew she and her istration had no choice but to be seen leading the charge. Now, if she could only discover how to remain on her horse politically … That thought was now foremost in her mind as she sat at the remote base surrounded by all of the people responsible for starting the rescue of the planet, which was no less a threat than had been that of an alien invasion. “Good morning—a very early morning—everyone,” General Paige said. “Madam President, does anyone in your group need to refresh themselves before we begin?” “No, General, my little airplane on the blacktop out there happens to have at least one bathroom and several napping areas. We are as ‘refreshed’ as we can be at this point. But thank you, anyway.” “Very well,” the general quietly replied. “I was going to comment that it certainly is early enough that we could delay this meeting for a few hours, but I know that we are all anxious to continue to the next chapter of the story, which is the implementation of the Save the Earth Initiative. I want to personally thank my colleague on the t Chiefs, General Beverly Hamilton, for visiting with the president yesterday morning and filling her in on what may be termed the final act of our little drama. I also want to thank President Hunter and her staff for venturing out to our little oasis in the desert, without the camels, under less than desirable circumstances. “To reassure everyone ahead of time, base security is firmly in place. No serious

incursions have been attempted in more than a month. ittedly, there are numerous groups of people assembled well outside our security perimeters, more or less like the tailgate parties that form prior to a football game. So far, however, we have not been able pick up the aroma of hamburgers sizzling on the grill or the sound of beer cans popping open.” The small amount of laughter that ensued at that comment was polite but sincere. Even the president was noticeably amused. “The reason that I mentioned that up front was to set the stage for a secure platform to begin the next task ahead of us. Everyone is familiar with the format and schedule for much of the initial phase of the Save the Earth Initiative, particularly those who have been feverishly working on it over the past few days. I believe that we have all been introduced to one another at some point. If there is someone who needs introduction at this time, please let me know. I would be remiss, however, if I did not mention my brother in arms, General Charles Atkins, the base commander, sitting to my left. He, along with Colonel Bradley Livermore, to his left, have provided a secure and operational base from which everything accomplished to date has been made possible, as I mentioned a moment ago. “Now, I would ask President Hunter to please introduce those who accompanied her who may not be known to us, so that we can get acquainted before we begin. If not, then perhaps she would like to take this time to make any remarks that she chooses or ask questions. After which we can officially cut the tape on the Initiative. Madam President?” “Thank you, General Paige,” the president responded. “I want to also like to thank someone for my being here, and that would be General Beverly Hamilton. She is a most intelligent, capable, and assertive individual, as am I, if I do say so. Her presentation and persuasive argument yesterday morning were probably the most effective ones that I have seen and heard in years. She certainly could be successful in politics; that is for sure. I think that my entourage is known to everyone here; if not, let me know. As to the subject at hand, until General Hamilton showed up on my doorstep and twisted my arm so that I would comply with her suggestion to come out here in the middle of the night, I will confess that I was being stubborn when it came to understanding anything at all about global warming. From a political point of view, it was like riding a dead horse in a derby.

“Well, I have begun to see the light. That is not to say that I am happy with the situation, because it will still be a tough sell with many people in many areas. But based on the format that General Hamilton explained, I think that we just may stand a good chance of convincing the doubters, both here and abroad—and I certainly was one just a few hours ago. At this time, I think that we should proceed with this initial flight demonstration and then spend some time afterward working out any rough spots, before we go ahead with involving others in additional demonstrations with synchronized broadcasts to select sites around the planet. It seems to me that we will want to make certain that those demos and simulcasts go like clockwork; otherwise, we run the risk of their possibly backfiring on us. General Paige, I believe that is all from the White House for the moment.” “Very well, Madam President, thank you,” the general said. “We are set up to coordinate the first Earth orbit demonstration flight with a simulcast presentation to this room. Those who will participate in the first demonstration flight are President Hunter; her chief of staff, Ronald Jolly; Colonel Bradford; Peter Harrigan; and Katrina Douglas. Those in the second demonstration flight will be the National Security Advisor Patricia Douglas, Secretary of State David Boyle, Paul Harrigan, Karl Holzhauer, and me. The rest will participate in the simulcast here on base.” “The first demonstration flight is scheduled to depart at 0200 hours tomorrow, about three hours from now. The second flight is scheduled for 0500 hours. Everything that you will need or need to know will be provided at each of the preflight briefings, which will take place in Crew Briefing Room Two, next door. Those briefings, by the way, will be conducted by Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant. Two Secret Service personnel will be on each of the demonstration flights as well, for a total of seven engers on each flight. “It is now 2245 hours. Travel to the base housing accommodations is waiting for those in the second demonstration flight. Pickup for that flight at base housing will be at 0300 hours, so try to get some rest in the meantime. For those in the first demonstration flight, there will not be enough time before departure to go to your rooms, because your preflight briefing will be at 2400 hours, just a little over an hour from now. After the flights, crew rest is scheduled until the next meeting, which is on for 1300 hours tomorrow in this room. For those who may have any questions before the flights are completed, the office of General Charles Atkins, the base commander, or Colonel Bradley Livermore, chief of

base security, at the numbers posted on the bulletin board by the door. See all of you tomorrow at the 1300 meeting, if not before.”

The crew briefing for the first demonstration flight started exactly at 0200. Some of them, including the president of the United States, looked a little tired, despite having freshened up onboard Air Force One prior to arriving on the base. Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant briefed first on the layout of the spaceship, including real-time views of the interior. This was to make them feel less apprehensive about entering the alien ship for the first time and immediately encountering a strange-looking craft as well as a full complement of strangelooking crew . Next, they were briefed on the flight itself, for every visitor going on board the spaceship would be going into space, although into high Earth orbit, for the very first time. The psychological aspects of that could prove overwhelming if not thoroughly addressed ahead of time. Tubrang Gilf used the same training technique that had been employed over two months ago when General Paige and his group had entered the ship while it was still in the desert. Again, the training program created the convincing mental illusion that the participants were actually on board the alien spaceship as it soared into space and into Earth orbit. They were looking at the planet Earth from a distance of nearly one thousand miles up through the ship’s enormous viewer screen. The sensation of slowly floating at tens of thousands of miles per hour above the clouds and weather, as all of the familiar continents drifted by through both sunlight and darkness, was awe-inspiring to all of the human space travelers. The effects were so powerful that those engrossed in its mind-bending influence had to be brought slowly back to the reality of the briefing room. After some time to acclimate themselves, Tubrang Gilf and its commander assistant completed the rest of the briefing by summarizing the details of their environmental survey that had been conducted more than a month earlier. With the briefing completed, they all walked out through the now vacant hangar and under the belly of the spaceship, where the empty lifting device awaited them. It slowly rose up into the underbelly of the ship. Moments later, the unique, low-pitched whine emanated from it, followed by the skin-tingling sensation that seemed to fill the air with an electric-like energy. Slowly, the spaceship hovered ever so slightly off the ground and then continued its slow climb above the buildings. As it started to lift in a sideways motion, its

speed increased exponentially, and then it disappeared in the climb out, as before. Once in actual orbit, Tubrang Gilf demonstrated the scientific disciplines involved in conducting the environmental survey that had revealed how human activities had decimated what was once a natural, pristine environment. What quickly became clear to all was the inevitable decline that would continue unabated unless drastic changes occurred to the way mankind conducted its business. One thing that was brought to the attention of the initiates was the continuing effects of the phenomenon known as acid rain, which was produced from the continued release into the atmosphere of industrial toxic chemicals from tens of thousands of factory stacks. When raised into the atmosphere and mixed with rain, it created an acidic mix that destroyed life, both flora and fauna, at the lower end of the food chain and then worked its way up. Another revelation was the extent of the clear-cutting that had already destroyed tens of thousands of square miles of rain forest throughout the planet, destroying in its path hundreds of species of various life-forms, many not yet discovered and categorized by science, further disrupting the natural sequencing of events through the generations that continuously cleaned and refreshed the planet. That point was further demonstrated by viewing the Florida Everglades, where decades of mining, artificial channeling of water, and development had all but destroyed the natural filtering system that continually refreshed and flushed clear, clean water southward for life toward the Gulf Coast. Wherever they looked, whatever details emerged from the scientific survey, the conclusion was evident around the planet. Industrialization and the carryover from the now global markets, had created a reality of constantly pursuing development and profits over husbanding Earth’s fragile resources. Short term versus long term—that conveniently covered over the sadder reality of ultimate, perhaps irreversible problems. The amazing thing about it was that regardless of whether they were in sunlight or in darkness as they circled the globe, the onboard equipment always displayed the details of Earth’s surface under discussion as bright and clear as daylight. Once the spaceship returned to the remote base from the first demonstration

flight, and the human space travelers had left the alien ship to finally go to their base housing for some rest, it was apparent that they would take with them both the elation of the once-in-a-lifetime flight into space and starkly disturbing revelations of Earth’s health backslide that might make sleep hard to come by. Within the next few hours, those who were to take the second demonstration flight would receive the same preflight briefing, the same awe-inspiring experience in space, and the same mind-wrenching revelations. They would also leave the spacecraft at the end of it all with the same realization as to what absolutely had to be done before it was too late for life at all levels.

Chapter 45

Saturday, September 4

R est had not come easy for those who had just experienced their first flight into Earth orbit—and on an alien spaceship, no less—and the presentation of data that underscored the deterioration of the planet’s environment to the point that the continuation of life itself was now in jeopardy. It had been the stuff of an end-of-life movie plot but unfortunately all too real. Now, those same people, along with the two alien AKARs, were among those who found themselves in the crew’s quarters meeting room, located in the nowempty hangar. Everyone entering took whatever seating was available, which the president did, or stood around the coffee urn in the back. President Hunter sat in the middle of one of the tables, along with Colonel Bradford, Peter Harrigan, and Katrina Douglas, most of those who had been with her during the space flight. The president’s Secret Service detail had the hangar and the room under complete surveillance, although most in the room were too tired to notice them. “Okay, everyone, let’s take your seats,” General Paige called out at exactly 1300 hours. “There are still empty chairs at the tables up front, for those just entering the room.” He waited until all were seated or quietly standing in the back of the room before starting the meeting. As he got things going, the president rose from the table and addressed the general. “General Paige, sir,” she began, “before we begin these important proceedings, I wish to address a tremendous oversight on your part, if you don’t mind.” “And if I do mind, Madam President?” he inquired with an obvious smile,

“Well, I guess that I would just have to invoke my authority as commander in chief, but one way or another, I would get an answer, wouldn’t I?” “Yes, you would, Madam President.” “Well, could you please tell me why I had to wait until I was seated at this table to find out that your adjutant, Colonel Bradford, and Peter Harrigan, probably the man most responsible for our being here under these circumstances, are engaged to be married? And I was just informed—although ittedly, I should have noticed it last night during the briefing or during the demo flight. There are some secrets that we do have to keep for the sake of national security, but do we really have to take it to this level? After all, I am her commander in chief. If I cannot be one of the first informed about such a happy occasion, then our whole military structure is falling apart, don’t you think?” The murmur of quiet laughter quickly spread throughout the room. General Atkins, seated in the front, turned to the president. “I told him, Madam President, that you should be the first to know, but he would not listen to me.” “Yes, I am starting to figure out just how uncaring this man can be. I had to hear it from my new, very close friend, Katrina Douglas.” “Madam President,” General Paige replied with honest remorse, “I assure you that it was indeed an oversight on my part that will not happen again. However, let me say that we are very pleased about their engagement and look forward to your office being the first to receive an invitation to their wedding, with a request for your earliest RSVP.” The president responded with the brightest of smiles and a polite bow in the general’s direction. Lt. Colonel Bradford and Peter Harrigan were doing the only thing that they could under the circumstances, which was to sit there quietly with polite smiles on their faces. Meanwhile, Tubrang Gilf and its command assistant were again trying to determine what these unfathomable humans were up to. “Very well, General, now that we have our priorities in order, you may commence with the Orders of the Day.” The repartee between the president and the general added just the right touch to

diffuse an almost overwhelming feeling of dread that had started to overtake the mind-set of those who had been up late, after having been subjected to the details of an almost impossible uphill battle to save planet Earth. “Thank you, Madam President,” the general replied. “We are here this afternoon to primarily summarize where we are, now that most of us have seen firsthand the undeniable environmental data relating to a projected dismal future Earth, if we do not take action, while also being most privileged to have experienced a once-in-a-lifetime experience of looking down on our all-too-fragile planet. At the end of our space journey, we were all asked to write down our most immediate thoughts about what we experienced. Those impressions should have been expressive of our innermost impressions, insights, and feelings. I would like to go around the room and have some of those individuals share their thoughts, starting with our first volunteer, my most ardent irer and critic, the president.” “Thank you, General Paige,” President Hunter said as she rose from her chair and walked toward the front of the room. “I keep thinking of that old cigarette commercial of many years ago, in which the line, “You’ve come a long way, baby,” was first coined. It certainly fits me, for I have come a long way in just a few days, thanks to General Hamilton and our esteemed visitor from outer space, Tubrang Gilf. These two have had the resolve to convince me that, as humans, we have been so wrong all of these years. As humans, we do not have the innate capacity to work with our planet in assuring a long life for all of the necessary life-forms on which we all depend. Despite the best of intentions in many cases, we simply do not understand what we are doing or what negative effects many of our efforts have on the health of everything. “I think, in part, it is because we cannot imagine what are the cumulative effects around the planet. We only know what is happening in our immediate vicinity, in just our lives. And for most of us, living away from the direct inputs of industrialization, we are relatively immune from the daily input into our environment coming from mining, factories, the ever expanding corporate agricultural, and the continual development to accommodate our rapidly expanding populations. I am a believer now and will try my best to use the office to which I was elected to begin to set things right.” The president then walked back to her seat. “Who would like to go next?,” General Paige asked, looking around the room.

“I would,” Katrina Douglas said and stood up at the table. “I will be speaking for Paul, Karl, and myself. We got together late this morning and decided to pool our observations, thoughts, and impressions and speak as one voice, because we have served science as one voice all of these years. Paul and Karl, however, can add what they want at any time. Everything that has happened over the last few months has served as a vindication of sorts for all of the time and effort that scientists have put into the study of who and what we are as a civilization and how we came to be. All that must encomes that fantastic phenomenon we call the universe. Tubrang Gilf’s unscheduled visit to our besieged planet has confirmed so much of what our science has discovered over the centuries, much of that time under duress from those who would continue to deny science, who see it as a threat to the ignorance that they so willingly embrace out of fear of the unknown. That leads me to conclude that scientists are true heroes right alongside everyone else who strives for the light among the darkness. Thank you all. And thank you, Tubrang Gilf.” The applause was polite but genuine as Katrina took her seat. Paul Harrigan and Karl Holzhauer knew they could not have said it better, so they offered no further comment. Everyone noticed that Tubrang Gilf gave an obvious nod of its head to Katrina in the process. “Well put, Katrina,” General Paige said at the end of the clapping. “I am sure that no one here has ever thought of what you and your cohorts do in the fields of astrophysics and aerospace engineering as anything other than courageous work. Are there any other comments?” The general glanced in the direction of Peter Harrigan. Peter hesitated at first, because he felt that he had expressed his opinions fully enough during the intervening weeks and months. But Sara’s pat on his arm and a nod of her head convinced him that he should make a few summarizing comments. “General, I do have a few things to say.” Peter stood and looked around the room at those assembled, knowing that if it weren’t for him, none of them would be here, at least not under these circumstances. “I just want everyone to know that if I ever again am out walking in the desert and come across an injured alien struggling against a coyote—knowing the exact circumstances under which I would once again become involved in the most preposterous undertaking imaginable—I would do it again in a heartbeat.” The applause and laughter rocked the room. Peter bent down to put his arm

around Sara and accepted a good-natured pat from the president of the United States from across the table. As the noise died down, Peter continued. “Being a scientist myself, I wholeheartedly agree with Katrina’s statement. In fact, I seeing these words on a T-shirt on Stanford’s campus a while back: “Science Rocks!” Whatever the area of endeavor—agriculture, industry, government, medicine, certainly aerospace—science and scientists make it happen. As for all of this … for all of you … I will be forever grateful to have known you and worked with you. Like Katrina, I have to say thank you, Tubrang Gilf, and your crew. I know that this could have turned out much differently. Thankfully, it did not, in good part, I think, because of you and your crew and the work that you are willing to do for us now, as we proceed into your Save the Earth Initiative. “Additionally, I am grateful for having met all of my cohorts in what has been referred to as General Paige’s official ‘unofficial group’ or something like that anyway. You are all true professionals in your fields. I personally would like to include in that ensemble the president of the United States and her accomplished staff and Cabinet as well. Obviously, they have been instrumental in helping us work our way through to where we are today, even with the occasional disagreement at times. And let’s face it—how many times do you get to meet and work with the president of the United States of America, for God’s sake?” Again, laughter rang out across the room. “Finally, I have to mention—and not just because she insisted—the wonderful woman who has agreed to marry me, Sara, aka Colonel Bradford.” There was, once again an eruption of applause, and then everyone quieted down. “That is all I have to say, General Paige,” Peter concluded and then sat down next to Sara. “Thank you, Peter, and thanks to everyone for your input,” the general said. “I think that your comments served to put a lot of things in perspective. I too am grateful for the efforts of all of those assembled in this room and those who are not but who have made no less a contribution and sacrifice. You have served your country well throughout this … situation. Now, we have to proceed to the next step, which is the actual unveiling of the Save the Earth Initiative, now that the spacecraft repair and test flight, plus the initial demo flights and simulcast

demonstrations, have all been accomplished. We now have to put in place the schedule that has been set up for both the continued secret demo flights of select personnel and the simulcast presentations that will accompany them at selected sites. I would suggest that we also discuss a plan B scenario, in case plan A somehow falls short of expectations.”

Over the next few hours, with a ten-minute break in the middle, those gathered in the crew’s quarters meeting room put in place a firm schedule that would take the Save the Earth Initiative ahead in time to the end of October, with the demonstration flights scheduled for Mondays and Thursdays. The first one was on for Monday, September 13, less than two weeks away. A list of probable individuals to approach for the series of flights out of the secret base had been compiled. All that remained was for those on the list to be seriously vetted to determine their suitability to the overall effort. They would have to possess, among other things, a high enough security clearance to offer assurance that they could keep a national security secret as far into the future as necessary. With that firm flight demonstration schedule in place, they next worked on selecting the sites for the real-time simulcasts that would allow those viewing the demo flights in progress to be there during the Earth-orbit flights. The details of the environmental survey conducted by Tubrang Gilf and its crew would be revealed to those select viewers, along with the data provided by both NASA and NOAA. Again, security clearances would be necessary, which meant that those present would represent their governments and corporations at the highest levels. Their pre-viewing briefings would be involved enough to assure the required understanding and cooperation. The selected sites would be located in those countries that were allied with the United States through official organizations, such as NATO, OAS, and SEATO, with a few select representatives from other countries invited to attend those viewings. That would help assure the proper physical security of both personnel and property during the several hours that the demo flights would take. When all of that was satisfactorily set up, General Paige directed the conversation to his request for a plan B, in the event that the demo flights and simulcasts were not persuasive enough to convince those who were adamantly against any argument even suggesting a relationship between global warming and mankind’s involvement in any of it. “General Paige?” President Hunter said. “Yes, Madam President.”

“Plan A—and I guess that is what we are going to insist on calling it—is so very involved and exhaustive, what on earth could we possible do for a plan B that could even begin to make up for a failure of the first plan?” “Good question,” the general responded. “In military parlance, a plan B would generally be a fallback plan. In other words, if you cannot defeat the enemy in battle with your best effort at the time, then you had better have a plan to regroup your forces either for another advance on his position or to prepare for a defense of your position or a complete withdrawal from the field of battle until another day. I am not suggesting that a defeat of our plan A would necessitate any fallback plan in particular, but we should be aware of the options that do exist and what preparations would be necessary to carry them out. Now, let us start with the assumption that the level of for Tubrang Gilf’s scenario is tepid at best. What might change that to a positive response, in case we need that in somewhat short order? Anyone? Karl?” “General, I appreciate your position on having a fallback scenario,” Karl Holzhauer responded, “although I am quite positive that our plan A will succeed. The question is, how long will it take to succeed, particularly if, as President Hunter expressed it, the political situation is not favorable at this time. Are we being a bit too optimistic as to the probable timeline for a positive reaction? Is it possible that despite what we consider as convincing evidence, any positive action could be held up for months or longer by a recalcitrant Congress in your country, some of whose might be fearful of jeopardizing their reelection chances by readily ing the Save the Earth Initiative? “If that does occur, then we would have to have a plan B that would immediately diffuse that opposition; otherwise, they would simply dig in their heels deeper, becoming more intransigent in the process. Then you could have a situation that would not present much of a chance for improving until elections that could, hopefully, change the makeup of that opposition. And in the United States, that would not be for another year. Now, if we could have such a plan B, something so convincing that it would blow away the resistance, then why not just go with that plan to begin with?” “Well, Karl,” General Paige slowly replied, “that would depend on what we decided could be an appropriate alternate approach that would have such a powerful effect as to convince those holdouts from plan A. Keep in mind that we do not know, as yet, what the total effect will be from plan A until we have given

it a fair chance. Plus, we have already put so much time, energy, and money into the plan to date, and the reaction to this just completed test demonstration has proven to be positive. But let us spend some time coming up with suggestions for a plan B, along with some idea as to how quickly it should kick in, if needed.” “I agree with Karl about the potential political problems in this country putting a wrench in the works,” Paul Harrigan interjected, “which means that plan B should be something that could be implemented within twenty-four to forty-eight hours, such as a presidential speech from the Oval Office that could be viewed worldwide and would put immediate pressure on those opposed or neutral.” “Thanks for volunteering my office, Paul,” President Hunter immediately said, “although it could work, particularly if I shared the spotlight and some of the power that comes with high political office with leaders from other countries. Actually, Paul, that is not a bad idea at all. We could highlight the data, as well as the names of the more well-known individuals not yet on board the Initiative. Put pressure on them.” “And perhaps top it all off with a presentation from Tubrang Gilf, if necessary,” Paul Harrigan added without any apparent hint of humor. The room was quiet after that, perhaps because everyone was deciding whether or not his suggestion might be yet another good idea. “Paul, I think that we might be on the right track here,” General Paige said, trying to put an element of authority behind the idea, “but I would only try to pursue that idea as a last resort, because it might open up a can of worms at an inopportune time. Even if Tubrang Gilf agreed to such a thing, what would be the right way to go about it without revealing certain aspects that might best remain secret? After being mostly successful by keeping our efforts secret to date, we might end up creating another episode of intense interest in our base by actually putting Tubrang Gilf in the spotlight. The sensational spin that would result might completely override and threaten the primary mission of the Initiative. I would think that we are all still intent on maintaining the same level of security, are we not?” The President spoke up. “I agree with you on the security issue, General. Also, we cannot go bouncing around, always trying to come up with a better plan. For

one thing, we really do not have the time to second-guess ourselves. Once you start, you simply make deciding on and implementing a plan that much more difficult to achieve. For now, let us stick to the plan A, because we are already there, given our preparation to date, and can maintain the current level of security. We have the ability to quickly monitor the reaction to it as it proceeds and to make adjustments as necessary. If and when it appears that the positive reaction is falling short, we will have in place the plan B that Paul suggested, because it can certainly be implemented in twenty-four to forty-eight hours with some prior preparation. As to his suggestion about including Tubrang Gilf in an address to the world, if it comes to that, we should consider it, I believe. In the meantime, my staff and I absolutely have to get back to Washington.” Early evening saw the president and her staff and Cabinet boarding Air Force One for the flight back to the city on the swamp.

Chapter 46

Monday, September 27

T he demonstration flights out of the remote base in the Northwest desert and the onsite simulcasts at various places in the United States and in Europe had taken place on Mondays and Thursdays for the past two weeks. Security for those occurrences had been all encoming yet discreet. All of the various persons attending the events from participating countries had been chosen with great care. All had occurred without any difficulty, although not all of the participants, whether in the alien spacecraft or at the earthbound sites, were completely convinced that the revealed areas of environmental distress and the generated data ed any real claim of a global warming phenomenon, let alone that they posed a threat to or were caused by human populations. The data that was presented, however, coupled with real-time, detailed views from space, documented undeniable areas of known pollution and human disregard. One of the areas highlighted as visually seen from space was a massive island many miles across, composed almost solely of throwaway plastics, such as drink bottles and trash bags, as well as an array of other floating items, such as garbage cans and storage containers. It was located northeast of the Hawaiian Islands and was the result of hundreds of thousands of tons of waste that was thoughtlessly discarded being swept by east- and westbound currents into a permanently swirling mass. Other areas highlighted graphically showed the rapid demise of polar ice due to the continued aggregation of carbon dioxide in Earth’s atmosphere from the smokestack discharge of factories and power plants, plus the continued clearcutting and burning of trees to make way for additional planting of corn in reaction to the increased production of bio fuels to power the ever-increasing volume of cars, which further added to the buildup of heat-producing gases.

The data further mentioned earlier efforts to warn man of the cumulative effects of these harmful human activities, primarily since the inception of industrialization. Years ago, for instance, alarmed by global mean sea level rise and dramatic changes to climate extremes, a group of the world’s top climate scientists formally embraced an upper target limit on primary greenhouse gas emissions continuing to be spewed into the atmosphere through unregulated industrial activities and deforestation. That limit put a cap on the metric tons of carbon that could be burned, in an effort to reduce the level of gas released into the atmosphere. The report pointed out that if humanity did not develop technology to help curb the rise in the level of toxic emissions, it faced the specter of irreversible and potentially catastrophic climatic changes. The report mentioned that the upper target limit was intended to keep global warming below an internationally agreed target of less than four degrees above the level of preindustrial times. The concern was that if nothing substantial was accomplished in that regard, this level would likely be exceeded in several decades. According to Tubrang Gilf’s calculations, those decades had ed long ago. Now, the momentum was on the side of the continuing deterioration of the environment that could only be avoided with the most rigorous assault on those human factors responsible for the continued destruction of Earth’s natural ability to cleanse and heal itself.

There was a fifth demonstration flight scheduled for Earth orbit later this morning. Beforehand, those involved in insuring that the Save the Earth Incentive was a success were gathered in the meeting room at base headquarters to evaluate things to date. On board via TV hookup were President Hunter and her staff in Washington, plus Paul and Katrina at simulcast sites in country, with Karl Holzhauer in Europe. “Good morning, everyone,” General Paige began. “Because we do have another scheduled demo flight in about two hours, I have to say that based on reports so far, we seem to have the momentum in carrying through with Tubrang Gilf’s argument on global warming and getting people on board worldwide with the Initiative. I say that, knowing that the president has some indicators, which she will bring up shortly, that there is apparent, growing opposition in certain circles in Washington to the United States being involved in any efforts to enter into international agreements relating to restrictions on industrial carbon-based emissions, particularly in this country. This should not come as a surprise to anyone, since the United States has pretty much steered clear of any international cooperation on the environmental front, starting when we refused to be a signatory to the Kyoto Agreements years ago. With that, I will turn this over to the White House. Madam President …” “Thank you, General,” President Hunter quickly replied. “I, too, am optimistic about the results, generally. But most of the other industrialized countries—and that now includes China—are more in agreement with dealing with these issues relating to global warming than is this country. The general mentioned that resistance when he brought up the indicators about opposition to any international agreements that this country may enter into, as such agreements would need the approval of Congress, and that is where the resistance is building. This is political, at least for the most part, and behind closed doors, as what is happening to date is covered under the interests of national security, and no one currently in the loop has the authority to reveal anything publically. “I was thinking earlier this morning how ironic it would be if, after all of the worrying about this story being broken several times, it all might come to light from secret sources in the opposition party in order to embarrass me and undermine my istration, and thus prevent any chance of this country cooperating within the international community to at least slow down the pace of

global warming. Again, it is apparent that they are waiting until the next election, hoping to gain more control of Congress and perhaps the presidency as well. “Now, General Paige, we absolutely have to continue with the demo flights and simulcasts in order to build a strong international base for pursuing Tubrang Gilf’s Save the Earth Initiative. Hopefully, that will have a strong influence on public opinion here in this country. As you know, however, there have been those issues, such as gun control, that have had significant public but have gone nowhere, due to congressional resistance from the conservative side of the aisle, underwritten by the for-profit arms industry and their shills—many of the same interests that are opposing us now.” “I could not agree with you more, Madam President,” the general responded, “and I know that those assembled here do also. However, there is one issue that has come up in the last few days that may have an impact on the Initiative, and that is the timing of the departure from Earth of Tubrang Gilf and its crew. Tubrang Gilf and I had a brief discussion about this and agreed that it and its crew could leave any time that they wanted to. That really was implied from the very beginning, was it not? While they want to stay and continue to help our civilization dig itself out from the mess that it has created, Tubrang Gilf also realizes that the odds of that happening, at this point, are no better than fiftyfifty. That is because the world’s largest industrial base, the United States, must be the leader throughout a process that will take centuries. And there can be no backsliding. Once we begin, we cannot try to convince ourselves that we can stop short of the necessary goal, just because we might feel that we have already sacrificed enough, and you know that will happen. “So back to your statement about continuing with the demo flights and simulcasts, they are absolutely necessary in order to apply pressure on this country and its political and business interests. In fact, we might want to actually ramp them up a bit for a month or two, just to build up broader , keeping in mind that the aliens may decide to depart within that time, if they do not perceive that more progress is being made to establish a true worldwide commitment that includes this country at the forefront.” “Yes, General, good point.” President Hunter acknowledged. “Let’s see what the next two weeks brings. Beyond that, we will have to make adjustments, as we will have covered most of the vetted individuals from government and business

in this country, plus those from our allied countries, by then. If that does not create enough pressure to convince the opposing special interests of what is necessary for our long-term survival, then we will be in trouble. I would not be surprised if Tubrang Gilf decides to leave, if that is the case. “I think that it is time for some brainstorming, General Paige, at both ends. We have been creative so far in approaching a probable solution to the global warming dilemma with the demo flights and simulcasts. Maybe we need to pull out all of the stops. I will get with my staff to see what political possibilities may present themselves here in Washington that we have overlooked so far. You do the same at your end. “There has to be something that will appeal to everyone, even if it is only the natural instinct of survival. How can we more strongly integrate the element of the eventual demise of our civilization? Someone brought up the salient point that we are trapped here on this planet. We cannot simply hop on a spaceship and fly away to another Earth. That means that we have to always remain aware that if we continuously treat this planet as if there is no tomorrow to worry about, we assume direct responsibility for our mistakes and their consequences along the way. How would God judge us in that event?” “Well, Madam President,” General Paige quickly replied, “maybe we should do just that. I would imagine that most of those opposing you and the Initiative present themselves as patriotic, Christian people. Why not use the Bible and their Christian beliefs in such a way as to make them an integral part of that responsibility to husband the resources of the planet that you alluded to and that God gave us. Create the image of a Christian duty—a religious duty—as well as a patriotic duty for God and country. Establish a national day of prayer for our planet and its survival from wasteful and harmful activities. If those opposing what is so obvious cannot live up to that kind of adult responsibility, perhaps they are not worthy to serve the country in any capacity.” Everyone at each end of the conversation sat quietly mulling over those words. The suggested idea was both appealing and bothersome. The idea of using God and religion in a political context was something that had been tried before, whether with the issues of prayer in public school or having religious symbols, such as a display of the Ten Commandments, on public property. It was always a Pandora’s box’—if someone let the demon out of the box the first time, could anyone get it back in before trouble ensued?

“General Paige,” the president responded, “I never would have suspected you to take such a combative attitude against what would be the position taken by the evangelical conservatives in this country. They are a very strong force in the Deep South but not exclusively so. They have a powerful influence on Washington politics from the western and Plains states as well. What you are proposing could be political suicide. It could stir up the proverbial hornet’s nest that could possibly unravel what we have in Congress.” The General again was quick with a reply. “Madam President, you raised the optimal question when you asked how God would judge us. It is a perfectly appropriate and legitimate question for anyone to raise, given what we know to be true. In fact, for this country, it may very well be the question that we all should ask, as we are the ones responsible for how well we husband the resources that God has provided for his people. “I am originally from the Central Plains states, Madam President, born and bred in Nebraska. Lived there until I went to West Point and still go back as frequently as I can. I strongly believe in what I have just proposed from a personal point of view. I was raised in a church environment that stressed individual and community responsibility to live our lives so as to leave God’s world better than we found it. Serving God was mostly accomplished by respecting what he had provided and looking out for others. Your question is a very proper one. It is like asking, “What would Jesus do?” And what better person to raise that question than you, the president of this country and perhaps the most influential person in the world? And it is the world that we are trying to save.” The general spoke with the utmost sincerity. He felt he could almost hear the thinking going on. Could this be a part of the plan B? Or could it stand alone, with the president incorporating this argument into an address to the nation now? “You never fail to amaze me, General,” President Hunter quietly remarked. “First, you logically figure out that Daryl Stark was the source of the leaks that threatened to unravel our attempts to resolve the issue of the alien presence and their ship’s repair. Now, you raise an argument that makes logical sense when dealing with the threat of environmental collapse. I am going to have to think this one over, however. The approach here is critical. I do not want to come across as too strident or too accusatory in any way. That would only chase them away. My approach, rather, should be one of inviting them on board as an

integral part of the solution, and doing it in such a way that to refuse would be tantamount to denying their own religious convictions and responsibilities.” “I agree with you entirely, Madam President,” General Paige replied. “In the meantime, we have the additional flights that have already been scheduled. We will continue to monitor the responses in this country and around the globe. Hopefully, we will start to see a more favorable response, with less demonstrated resistance in this country. I think that we should still plan on a televised response from you, as at least a part of a plan B, with that emphasis on man’s inherent responsibility to take care of the land.” “Very well, General. Good work from all of you out there and around the country and the world. We will try to set up another meeting toward the end of the week, sooner if needed.”

After the White House connection ended, General Paige turned to those in the room for comments, as well as to Paul, Katrina, and Karl in their respective places for the demo flight and simulcasts. “As I mentioned at the beginning,” the general said, “I am confident, at least on a global scale, that we are building the momentum among our allied governments and their business leaders to carry through with a rigorous plan for rehabilitating the planet’s health. Karl, what are you hearing in the European theater?” “General Paige, as far as I am hearing from my s in the various government circles throughout the Continent, there appears to be a widespread for taking immediate and concerted action to curb global warming. There does not seem to be anywhere near the almost frantic negative political reactions to the issue of global warming and the probability of mankind’s involvement that there is in the United States. It is almost as if your country is on another planet altogether.” Those involved in the morning’s meeting with the president had wondered about Tubrang Gilf’s reaction to the comments of both the president and General Paige concerning the strong resistance of certain parties in the country to prevent its Initiative from being carried out. They now glanced in the direction of Tubrang Gilf to see what his reaction might be to Karl’s comment. The alien commander stood silently, perhaps thinking that this was the moment when this perplexing civilization had to start working through the dilemma on its own, for the alien spaceship and crew would soon be gone. “Paul and Katrina,” General Paige continued, “what are you hearing where you are? Paul, in Dallas, you first.” “Well, contrary to what Karl just said about the strength of the positive reactions that he is hearing, it is more of a mixed bag where I have been. Despite the gravity of the evidence presented during these simulcasts, I seem to be hearing a sizeable negative reaction to most of it. I would say about a 35 to 40 percent questionable reaction to the data presented. It is almost as if they want to bury their heads in the sand rather than face the possibility that they might have to change anything about the way they live or do business. I think that maybe we

have convinced ourselves over the decades that we will just automatically be beneficiaries of this American dream thing, generation after generation, without ever receiving the bill for what we have consumed.” “Yes, I have had the same sentiments many times over the years, Paul,” General Paige said. “Katrina, what are you experiencing?” “Here in Seattle the reaction to the data presented is perhaps more positive. That may be because of the nature of the education and business environment out here on the West Coast. Boeing has its facilities here in the Seattle area. California has its high-tech investments in the Silicon Valley. The direction and pace of education out here reflects that commitment to a higher level of science and technology, which probably lends itself to a more open-minded approach to the reality of the global warming issue. Resistance to it seems to be a function of what part of the country you come from or grew up in, as to what influences affected your belief system.” “Yes, Katrina, I think that you are on to something there,” General Paige responded. “If we tracked those politicians who have been involved in either the demo flights or the simulcasts, we likely would find that those who have expressed negative comments on this issue come from states where their continued reelection depends on their publically expressing those negative comments. Based on Paul’s input, I would imagine that those people resisting would represent just about 35 to 40 percent of the electorate. That means that we will continue to have our work cut out for us, because, as someone pointed out to us, there is a national election coming up next year. As the president stated, we will continue as we are, until it becomes evident that the percentages are not going to change in this country. Then we will probably have to switch to plan B. For now, we have another demo flight this morning, so meeting adjourned.”

Chapter 47

A s the meeting was breaking up, and Peter and Sara were exiting the meeting room, they noticed Tubrang Gilf slowing his pace in the hallway and looking back at them. Peter suspected that maybe it wanted to talk to them, so he made a motion indicating that they should continue outside. Because Tubrang Gilf had the fifth demonstration flight coming up, they walked in the direction of the hangar. Not knowing for certain what it might want to say, if anything, Peter started the conversation. “I suspect that you are still disappointed in us when it comes to our capacity to make and carry out decisions in a timely manner. I believe you mentioned at some earlier point that your system of governing is more direct and immediate.” Peter must have hit on the exact subject that Tubrang Gilf wanted to address, for it did not hesitate at all in replying. “My command assistant has advised me that the other AKARs in the crew are getting anxious to leave. At first, everyone was eager to assist you earthlings, because you were instrumental in repairing our damaged stabilizer. Now that they have become privy to your dilemma in enacting the Save the Earth Initiative plan, they think that we have devoted enough time and effort in trying to set in motion a solution that may never be fully implemented.” “Believe me,” Sara said, ing in, “no one is more dissatisfied with present developments that we are. It has taken a lot of effort on Peter’s and my part to remain quiet and let the primary decision makers try to work out the details. It is both a strength and a weakness that our system allows for general input into the decision-making process, rather than having a system like yours, and I believe you referred to it as the Council, which takes recommendations from the AKARs and then makes the decisions in a more immediate fashion. Am I correct in that?” “Yes, you are, Sara,” Tubrang Gilf answered. “But our system has its problems as well. We certainly have gone through periods in which the Council did not consider the opinions of the resident AKARs and acted independently, often times creating problems that in all probability would not have occurred if they

had only listened to differing opinions—not unlike what is happening now with your more representative system. “The immediate problem for us is timing. It is becoming more of a matter of our running out of supplies before anything substantial can be accomplished here. We are now at the point where we only have enough to sustain us for perhaps another six months, measured by your system. Notwithstanding the desire to depart as soon as possible so that we can endeavor to our civilization once again, we have to do so in a not too distant time, given the supplies remaining.” “Tubrang Gilf, why in the world didn’t you bring this up sooner?” Peter emphatically inquired. “I’m not so sure what your supplies consist of, but if we could determine the nutritional aspects of whatever it is that you need for survival, perhaps we can help out in that regard as well.” “That would be impossible within the short time that we have until we depart. Like you, at one time—many hundreds of thousands of your years ago—we took our nutrition from many natural sources. We do not eat the equivalent of onceliving flesh, as you still do, but we did process a nutritional diet from a variety of naturally growing plant-like strains. The problem was that as our populations grew, we were unable to derive enough sustenance from those natural sources, due to the overdevelopment of the land and the growing pollution of the environment. Gradually, we developed a series of synthetic sources of nutrition, to the point that eventually we could readily provide for growing populations, although that required a change in the way that we thought about the process of sustaining life. Eventually, my civilization relied almost entirely on the synthetic substances, which ended up providing us with a higher level and quality of nutrition than we ever derived from natural substances. When it came to space exploration, we could literally store years’ worth of life-sustaining synthetic food in smaller and smaller spaces. “Getting back to your suggestion, Peter, I am confident that your scientists could not develop what we need in that respect. Unless you can do so with utmost precision, you would undoubtedly produce a synthetic nutritional substance that would turn out to be poisonous to us, keeping in mind that these synthetic foods have to be developed for each individual, as each body uses these substances at different times, in different strengths, and in different combinations.” “So what do you think is the longest time that you can remain with us before you

absolutely must depart?” Sara asked. “No later than a month from now,” Tubrang Gilf replied. “By the end of the month on your solar-based calendar that you call October.” “Does General Paige know this?” she inquired. “No. I did not want to interrupt his discussion with your president. I still do not. At some point, you are going to have to work this out for yourselves. My civilization had to do so. It apparently is not going to do yours any good if someone else intervenes to too great a degree. Until you realize the truth of the matter, you will only continue to regress in the face of having to make sacrifices that you do not want to believe are necessary. I will work with General Paige and President Hunter in the time remaining, when it comes to presenting the evidence, even if that means, as some have suggested, making a televised broadcast with your president that would be heard around the planet. However, I cannot make your civilization believe and act on the truth of the evidence, if a significant portion of your society does not want to cooperate in the process.” They had reached the tarmac in front of the hangar. Tubrang Gilf had to excuse himself at that point and enter his spaceship, leaving Peter and Sara looking on as it rose into the belly on the elevator-type device suspended below it. At that point, Sara noticed General Paige approaching them. “Colonel Bradford,” the general said, “I noticed you talking to the commander. Anything that I should know about?” Sara glanced at Peter, who nodded his head. “Well, Tubrang Gilf and its crew will undoubtedly leave within the month. He revealed that their supplies are dwindling to the point where they only have about a six-month supply remaining. They consume only a synthetic diet and have, as a civilization, for thousands of years. We cannot not help them in that regard, because he said we would undoubtedly end up poisoning them in the process.” “I am not surprised,” the general stated. “About them leaving, that is. I have been wondering when they would decide to do just that. We really haven’t been too convincing lately when it comes to successfully establishing the Save the Earth Initiative as the new standard for doing business on the planet, have we?”

“No, sir.” Lt. Colonel Bradford answered. “In fact, it mentioned that its crew had arrived at the same conclusion and wants to leave as soon as possible.” “What else did ol’ Tubrang Gilf have to say about the Initiative?” The lt. colonel looked at her boss for a second before answering. “Only that it is our responsibility to make this work out. There is only so much that Tubrang Gilf can do to help, but in the time remaining, it is willing to do that. I think that it believes, at this point, that we will have to resort to a plan B, which probably means some sort of an address to the people of the nation, either by the president, or Tubrang Gilf, or both, I suppose.” “General,” Peter said, ing in, “about that address to the nation—why not just do it, as soon as it can be arranged, but on a larger scale? Why continue with these flights and simulcasts, particularly in this country, when we know that they probably have already accomplished whatever they can at this point? It is a matter of timing, after all, as Tubrang Gilf mentioned. Why not just go with the approach that will have the most immediate effect within the time frame remaining, while the aliens are here?” “What do you suggest specifically, keeping in mind that an announced address to the nation by the president of the United States will be automatically viewed and listened to around the world?” “I it that this will be taking a risk,” Peter began, “because there are those in this country—probably the same crowd who is opposing the global warming initiative—who absolutely dislike anything to do with this organization, but why not a presidential address at the United Nations on the Save the Earth Initiative, with a surprise visit toward the end by Tubrang Gilf from the tarmac of the remote base, with the alien spaceship in the background? We could schedule it just before the aliens depart the planet to their civilization somewhere in the Milky Way galaxy. The media would love to cover this from all locations simultaneously.” “I think that I see what you are getting at, Peter,” the general replied. “An address in front of the United Nations would better establish the environmental issue as a global one, thus defusing the special and more provincial interests of the conservatives in this country. But under what pretense could the president request such an address without having to reveal too much security-related

information beforehand? Right now, only a very few people, including our allies, are privy to what has been happening over these past few months. I must it, though, that the timing could not be more perfect. There is a meeting of the United Nations General Assembly in two weeks to discuss international security issues, among others. And one of the those topics, if I recall correctly, has to do with controlling the currently unregulated flow of oil from spills occurring in developing countries, primarily in Africa. In many cases, control of the oil in countries like Nigeria, for instance, often es from one extreme group to another, and much of the oil production disappears into the black market. With that amount of violence and corruption, there is not much interest in dealing with the pollution aspects coming from unregulated operations that adversely affect the rivers and estuaries.” “Your idea, Peter, could work out beautifully, based on what General Paige has just related,” Lt. Colonel Bradford said, ing in. “I can see the scenario now: the President’s office requests to address the General Assembly on the topic of worldwide environmental issues, which certainly coincides with at least one of the topics the Council is to consider. At some point, the president mentions the Save the Earth Initiative, with details relating to a recent environmental survey conducted showing the threatening current conditions of the planet. She explains exactly how this data was generated and the importance of attacking the problem head on. She weaves into the narrative General Paige’s recommendation about linking our responsibilities for husbanding our God-given resources, according to our religious beliefs for doing good. She then introduces Mr. Peter Harrigan to fill in the background details. “Peter Harrigan tells his story, which relates to the particulars of an encounter with aliens and their spaceship, the repair carried out on that ship through the efforts of the United States and its allies, and the environmental survey mentioned by the president, thus bringing events up-to-date. This will serve to confirm the actual existence of an alien encounter and the secret repair of the alien ship, which will unleash worldwide attention for the first time on that alone. To counter that, the next step is to introduce the alien commander, Tubrang Gilf, standing on the tarmac at some secret location—the base, of course—with the alien spacecraft in the background. Tubrang Gilf will , once again, the details of the environmental survey, the outline for undoing the effects of the global warming that is taking place and the events that must unfold to correct those effects through the Save the Earth Initiative.

“At that time, it will state that only we can correct the problems that we have brought on ourselves. We have the blueprint to do it. But do we have the necessary desire, the initiative to carry it out? At the end of its comments, it will enter the spaceship. The ship will be seen lifting off from the tarmac, hovering for a moment, and then suddenly disappearing into Earth’s atmosphere and into space. What do you think of that scenario?” the lt. colonel concluded, looking at Peter and then at General Paige. “Well, I would say that your little scenario is a place to start,” the general said. “And the president did say to caller her if something important came up regarding the Initiative. So I will put in a call to her, as soon as Tubrang Gilf departs on this next demonstration flight, and see what she thinks of Peter’s proposal. I’m going to refer to it as ‘the Peter Proposal,’ by the way, in case she does not like it; ‘our proposal,’ if she does,” the general said, smiling. With that, the three watched as the spaceship started up and soared away.

The second meeting of the day with President Hunter began at 3:00 p.m. General Paige had called earlier, just after the alien spaceship left on its morning demonstration flight, and had been informed by Chief of Staff Ronald Jolly to plan on a brief meeting some time mid-afternoon. To facilitate planning for the meeting, the general had fully briefed the chief of staff on the plan B proposal. Now, everyone at the base was in their respective spots in the headquarters meeting room; the meeting for the president and her staff this time was in the Oval Office, and she immediately responded with her opinion on the proposal. “General Paige,” the president began, “at first I could not believe your proposal for a plan B. It sounded like something pretty much out in left field. When I mentioned it to Patricia Thomas and David Boyle, they had the same initial reaction. Then, the more that David thought about it, the more it made sense to him, if we are to ever overcome the resistance of the conservatives on the environmental issues. He explained that given the nature of the topics to be addressed at the General Assembly, it would be appropriate for a nation’s leader to speak on an issue of particular importance to the world. In fact, David ed several leaders of our European allies, and they felt that a US president would be particularly effective in giving such an address, mainly due to the past reluctance of this country to participate in past UN actions involving world environmental issues. “David immediately ed Carl Worthington, our ambassador to the UN, and filled him in on what we are trying to accomplish. Carl, who is an ardent believer in global warming, ed the office of the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Consuelo Menendez, and arranged for a phone conversation. Within the hour, she and I were able to talk for a few minutes, and she was very enthusiastic about the idea. Consuelo felt that my speech in front to the General Assembly would lend an air of extra weight and importance to what the UN is trying to do to increase global awareness of the issue of the high levels of environmental pollution often caused by various criminal activities in lawless or near lawless countries. “So I guess that I have accepted your suggestion—or I guess it is Peter Harrigan’s suggestion—to speak in front of the UN General Assembly the second week in October. The exact day has yet to be determined, as its depends

on when they schedule the topic relating to the global environment. Ms. Menendez suspects that it will be midweek, the thirteenth or fourteenth, so I will leave those days open and prepare accordingly. By then, we will have completed the demonstration flights and the simulcasts, and I think that we have already agreed that, with plan B, this address to the United Nations is necessary. “However, we do need to discuss the other parts of this—Peter’s role in filling in the beginning details of the story and the parting message from Tubrang Gilf. I did not mention any of that to the Secretary-General, because at the time, I was not sure if anything concrete had been decided. My address alone, I think, might suffice. To what extent, do you think, do we need to reveal anything beyond what I would say? After all, only a handful of people know about an alien presence, the spaceship repair, or the secret base. “That was Patricia Thomas’s concern, when she first heard about your proposed scenario. She was not all that convinced that we could control the aftereffects of revealing the truth of what has been going on the past four months, particularly after having pulled out all of the stops to deny it and cover it up. In that regard, we would have to explain what we did with Daryl Stark, Charley Whitmore and the Washington Daily Herald, and Debra Storm and WASH AM. Her position is very simple: if it was important to keep it secret in the name of national security, then it is undoubtedly still important to keep it secret now, maybe more so. She maintains that perhaps the issue of global warming should be allowed to succeed or fail on its own merit at this point, rather than be used as an exercise that might risk national security. “Her point is that we have secretly brought on board enough individuals from the upper echelons of government, the military, and business from around the world with these demonstration flights and onsite simulcasts, that that alone should suffice to motivate the leaders around the planet to bring about the necessary changes to reverse the effects of global warming. My response to her position is that those very people who have been brought on board have already seen for themselves the aliens and their spaceship, whether directly while in Earth orbit or via real-time simulcasts, and have already been exposed to the data on global warming generated by Tubrang Gilf and its crew, and are bound to reveal these secrets sooner or later, even if only inadvertently. Better that it is done directly and with some control, rather than to let it come out in a haphazard fashion that will only produce the angry accusations of an unnecessary and continual cover-up and further impugn the integrity of the government. Your

response, General Paige, and those with you.” The meeting room in the headquarters building was momentarily quiet. The president and her national security advisor had raised questions that had no riskfree answers. Both, under unpredictable circumstances, could be right and wrong in their assessments. How could they marry the two into the best possible approach? “Excuse me, Madam President.” Peter spoke up before anyone else in the room. “I don’t think that there is any question that your speech is necessary and not just because it has already been scheduled, but because all of us involved know what is at stake here. However, I do not think that you can give an effective speech without revealing most aspects of how the environmental data relating to the prospect of an irreversible global calamity was generated—and by whom. If all of what you are going to say is important, then you cannot hide behind a screen of national security when intensely questioned about your claims. I realize, as you mentioned, that the government invoked the cloak of secrecy that ultimately caused the downfall of Daryl Stark and the retractions, in the end, from both the Washington Daily Herald and WASH AM. But that claim of national security was justified then, particularly with the all too real threat of an alien invasion at one point. “Now, the situation is vastly different. You do not necessarily have to mention anything about the near-miss invasion in your address, although that will also probably come out eventually. If so, you can simply claim that while we were fortunate to have escaped that, the reality now is that our planet is threatened with the very probable extinction of life, at least life as we have known it, if we do not act now. , Tubrang Gilf’s data clearly shows that we have already crossed that point of no return or will very shortly, the difference being only a matter of as little as twenty to thirty years. By that time, we will begin to see temperatures gradually increasing beyond the comfort zone for humanity, beginning in the tropical areas first and then gradually working their way up the latitudes toward the major population centers. “Madam President, while you would very well be taking a short-term risk by following through with the agenda that we propose, I do not think that, given what we know to be true, you would be entirely honest in your address to the world if you did not do everything that you could—the right thing for generations to come.”

The president sat at her desk in the Oval Office, looking at those around her and then into the camera. “Peter,” the president replied, “ you have always been and remain the principle driver throughout all of this. Heaven knows how things would have worked out if you had not become involved on that morning walk in the desert back in June. Your with the aliens was fortunate in many ways —for both sides, I think. So, Peter, with that, are you ready for an address in front of the member states of the UN General Assembly?” “Yes, Madam President, I am,” Peter eagerly replied. “I am confident that we can present a convincing, coordinated address that will properly introduce to the world at large the overwhelming evidence of what must be done. Tubrang Gilf’s remarks will then be the icing on the cake.” “And you, Tubrang Gilf?” President Hunter asked. “It appears that your televised address will definitely be a first for this planet. Are you confident that we can put it all together? Plan B will be our last chance to do so. You will need to knock it out of the park, which is an old sports saying of ours.” “Yes, Madam President, I am aware of that saying,” the alien commander answered, “although I am not quite sure that I fully understand the significance of its origin. I am prepared to coordinate my comments with yours. I hope that what I say will have the desired impact on influencing the necessary sequencing of future events for your planet.” “And you and your crew will be departing Earth at that point, in two weeks?” the president asked. “Will it be a good time for you to do that?” “Yes, Madam President, we will have to depart no later than that, if we are to reach our destination before our supplies run out.” President Hunter inquired further of the group assembled at the base. “General Paige, what is your assessment at this point?” “Madam President,” the general said, “I think that events have taken us, almost despite our efforts, to the point where we really should be. There really is nothing else that we can do. The plan B offers our civilization the best opportunity to create a positive approach to assuring our continued survival as a species. Just think where we would be now if Tubrang Gilf’s spaceship had not landed on the planet but had only conducted its surveillance of the planet outside of Earth orbit, and then had conveyed that negative information to the colony

ships when they were still distant from Earth. They would have diverted to another destination, and we would have remained completely unaware of our probable future demise. “Now, we stand a chance, however remote, of being able to turn things around, and we really do have to thank our alien visitors for that, despite the initial threat of invasion. I would like to think that both our visitors and our civilization have learned something truly valuable from this encounter that we both can use to improve our civilizations and the prospects for their survival well into the future.” “Madam President,” Tubrang Gilf said, “I agree with General Paige on the general nature of events to date and his hopes for the future. In fact, I think that you should include them in your speech, as they appear to sum up the significance of the past several months. In all likelihood, our civilizations will not meet again, because of the vast distances and the time that it will take you to develop the necessary technologies. My crew and I have concluded, however, that your capacity for further evolution is higher at this point than we had earlier estimated. Once you gain an understanding of your planet’s natural functioning, I have confidence that your civilization can accomplish great feats over time.” “So do I,” the president responded. “Very well, ladies and gentlemen, let us run a tight ship for the next two weeks. Now that the demo flights and simulcasts have ended, we have time to properly focus on what is ahead for us. Again, the Secretary-General said to count on either October 13 or 14, so let’s start planning accordingly. Let’s stay in touch. Bye for now.”

General Paige and the group that had been in place since the beginning, with the exception now of Daryl Stark, sat in the meeting room in the base’s headquarters building after the meeting with the president ended. They felt the need to take a collective deep breath, while trying to take in the probable culmination of the flow of events over the past few weeks and months. Now that the final decision had been made to go with plan B in just two weeks, it was difficult for everyone to imagine an end to it all. But the desired end would not occur until plan B was successfully executed. “Peter and Tubrang Gilf,” General Paige said, “let me make just a few comments before we adjourn the meeting. The president may be making an important, historic address in front of the UN General Assembly, but you two will be ones to take the framework of her comments and give it a structure and meaning for all to see. Peter, you will have the responsibility to make the case for the veracity of the president’s comments; you will be the ‘witness for the prosecution,’ so to speak. You will give testimony to the reality of what happened by supplying the firsthand details of a chance encounter by a trusting and competent scientist and his dog, to an initially doubting audience, for only a very few around the world will have an advance knowledge of what has happened. In fact, you might want to mention the irony that your German shepherd’s name is, in fact, Chance, to give the occurrence a more down-to-earth feel, in that we now have been provided a chance to finally turn things around. “You will have to make the convincing connection between that first encounter in the remote desert and the later, important revelation made by our unimpeachable expert witness. At which time, the president will introduce our alien visitor. The nature of that introduction will have to be just right, for we do not want the revelation of the alien commander and its spaceship to overshadow the message. As you work on that, you will want to coordinate your comments with the White House and Tubrang Gilf to make certain that just the right touch is achieved. “Tubrang Gilf, yours is the responsibility for laying the groundwork for taking the action that is the Save the Earth Initiative. Your initial problem will be the predictable worldwide reaction of shock and surprise that will occur when you first appear on camera, after the president’s introduction. To counteract that, you

will have to talk directly to the people of the planet, conveying the idea from the start that the Save the Earth Initiative is the message, not your presence here on the planet. “That will be difficult to do, as you can imagine. You will have to make the viewers feel your concern for the future of Earth by relating the experiences of your civilization. Your appearance may be quite different from what they are used to seeing, but your experiences and your sincerity in relating those experiences in that they can understand here on this planet will make the difference, I believe.” “Yes, General, I have been thinking much the same thoughts lately,” Tubrang Gilf responded. “As you have suggested, I must make them see and feel the connection that makes us all the same when it comes to survival, instead of keying only on the differences that drive us apart physically and emotionally, making us incapable, much of the time, of working together toward a common and necessary goal. I must look into the ship’s archives to see if there are any records remaining from those times when my civilization was contending with what yours will soon be facing. If they are still there and intact, I will see if they can be digitally reformatted to match your electronic equipment. If so, I believe that they will be most effective in convincing your civilization of what lies ahead.” “Very well,” General Paige said. “As the president said, ‘Let us run a tight ship for the next two weeks, focusing on what is ahead.’”

Chapter 48

Monday, October 11, through Thursday, October 14

T he date for President Hunter’s address before the United Nations General Assembly had been set on September 29. She would deliver her address at 10:00 a.m., Wednesday, October 13. It was mentioned that the total length of the presentation by the chief executive should be kept to no more than one hour, with the understanding that she could call upon others within her istration to assist her in the presentation, as needed, as long as the time limit was followed. The plan, created by the White House and General Paige and his cohorts at the secret base, called for the president to speak for about thirty minutes, introducing the topic of the environmental challenge that the planet faces due to global warming caused by the activities and inactivity of man, and linking it to the patriotic and religious responsibilities that man must shoulder to husband Earth’s resources, according to God’s plan. Her comments would begin to hint at a new source of scientific information, from a truly unique and unimpeachable source, that would establish beyond any doubts the truth behind the climate change issue and the unavoidable catastrophe that would result if the nations of the world did not take action within the current generation. At the end, she would call for a worldwide Day of Prayer for the Planet to begin the process of reclaiming a healthy global environment for future generations. President Hunter would then introduce Dr. Peter Harrigan, head of the Departments of Archaeology and Anthropology at Stanford University, who would explain the background details that had led, over a period of several months, to this new scientific information. It was felt by all concerned that Peter’s position at the university would lend credibility to his presentation.

Peter would simply explain his unexpected involvement in a strange encounter in the desert that led to an odyssey culminating in the introduction of the new scientific information mentioned by the president. He would then say to those listening to prepare for the most amazing revelation in the history of the planet, and the president would then introduce the one responsible for warning of a global cataclysm, Tubrang Gilf and his Save the Earth Initiative.

Just days before the president’s speech, the president and her immediate staff, along with General Paige and those within his group, were going over the details of the speeches and the overall presentation in the early hours of Monday morning. “I wish that I had the confidence in this that you have, General Paige,” President Hunter said with a slight bit of exasperation in her voice. “What sounded good when this was first proposed now sounds like a roll of the dice. I know that this is the right thing to do, but I have to it that facing the entire world is more than a little daunting. For one thing, even if what I say to the General Assembly is persuasive, no resolution ed by that body as a consequence is binding on the member states. So we could get stonewalled in that chamber, just as we are in Congress.” “You are quite correct, Madam President,” the general responded. “But keep in mind the we are primarily trying to influence public sentiment here at home, particularly among the more intransigent, conservative elements and not world opinion necessarily, at this point. Also keep in mind, however, that the UN Security Council can resolutions that are binding on the member states, so let us hope that the reactions of the General Assembly to our presentation, particularly the presentation from Tubrang Gilf, will serve as an impetus for such action. Regardless, our presentation will still serve the purpose of focusing world attention on the importance of this matter before us. This is, after all, going to be a global effort, as in the Save the Earth Initiative. So regardless, you will be serving that purpose, as well as that of positively influencing opinion here at home.” “As usual, General, you are remarkable in putting forth your well-thought-out arguments. Of course, this is a dual-purpose agenda for us, isn’t it. I know that my speech will ring strong on the global effort aspect, including the promise of a significant effort by this country, which further highlights the importance of overcoming that entrenched resistance among the conservatives. Peter, are you still confident in what you will say before I introduce Tubrang Gilf?” “Yes, Madam President. We have been going over my portion of the speech—I believe that we have forwarded your office the most recent update—word for word, and I am comfortable with the flow of details. I am going to cover mostly

the pertinent aspects, in order to properly set the stage for Tubrang Gilf, without overwhelming those listening with too much irrelevant information. For instance, I am not going to say anything about the efforts of Daryl Stark or Charley Whitmore or Carson Plummer in the mix of events. Nor will I go into all of the details of the spaceship’s repair. Those revelations can come out later. When I relate my encounter in the desert, I am going to concentrate almost exclusively on the dilemma that Tubrang Gilf and its crew found themselves in and the necessity, as I saw it, of repairing their damaged spaceship, so that the crew could safely depart, highlighting our success in doing so, of course. “As for Tubrang Gilf’s part, and it can certainly speak for itself, that is the primary concern, but there really is nothing that we can do to entirely control that. The key is going to be the reaction to Tubrang Gilf’s presence on the large screen in front of the General Assembly and the world. It will be a fait accompli. We are just going to have to do it at the appropriate time in the speech, let Tubrang Gilf say what needs to be said in its own words and with its own evidence, and then have the alien crew depart. In fact, showing that departure would be the fitting end to the entire saga, don’t you think?” Peter asked, looking at those in the first-floor meeting room in the headquarters building and into the cameras that would broadcast his presence to those in the Oval Office. “I understand that Tubrang Gilf is not present at this time,” President Hunter inquired. “No, it is not,” General Paige answered. “Tubrang Gilf and the crew are preparing the spaceship for departure, which will occur, according to the schedule we have been discussing, sometime around noon this Wednesday, the day after tomorrow. That, of course, will mark the end of our scheduled presentation, Madam President, and the beginning of Earth’s solo performance to save itself. That suddenly brings up something that I am not sure anyone here may have considered before, certainly not me—the necessity of someone—no doubt you, Madam President—to say something appropriate about the alien departure taking place in real time, while you are at the podium in front of the eighteen hundred or so people in the General Assembly room, as well as those viewing your speech. “Are you to say, ‘Good afternoon, folks,’ and just walk away from the podium and out the door, without saying anything about what the world has just witnessed? What is said in conclusion might be as important, if not more so, than

what was said during the entire presentation. I guess what I am talking about is not just a graceful exit but something that summarizes and puts in perspective what has just been heard and witnessed. Tubrang Gilf’s exit will be the dramatic end—riding off into the sunset. Afterward, what will the crowd say? “Who was that masked man?” Anyone?” Both rooms were quiet, with some people looking around for someone to respond with a meaningful statement. It was apparent that no one had given much thought to closing comments that would tie everything together in an understandable package. Those attending and viewing the memorable speech and dramatic departure would need to know and understand how it all connected to their lives and countries, when the General Assembly’s activities ended and they all returned home. “I see your point, General,” the president itted. “My speech, as currently written, carries the theme of global action only to the point where Peter’s part of the speech to the Assembly takes over. From then, as discussed, our efforts to influence thoughts and actions move on to Tubrang Gilf and its comments. Until you mentioned it, we had sort of thought that the departure of the alien ship would be rather the dramatic beginning to the planet’s involvement with the Save the Earth Initiative, without considering that a final appeal to that end would have to be made. We will have to do that as the alien spaceship is preparing to leave the remote base. We can use some of the final comments of Tubrang Gilf, and we will have to know what they will be, so that we can then coordinate those comments with what we will say as the alien crew enters their ship and it begins to move—that will create the most dramatic effect. In other words, as the ship slowly rises up into the morning sky, we can use that dramatic footage to rouse the people of this planet into action. It will be the moment to make them see that we must save our planet, so that our civilization can survive, but also can grow and evolve to the point where we can reach for the stars in our own spaceship. And the departing aliens have given us just that opportunity.” “Madam President,” General Paige began, “I think that you just may have a career in marketing and public relations ahead of you, when you are finished with playing around as president. Maybe you could end up as a presidential speech writer, for you have just created the image of getting the countries of the world energized to begin what will be a long process. As always, every journey must begin with the first step, and I think that you are on to something that would make a marketing and PR person proud.”

“Well, I can see here in the Oval Office that people are smiling and nodding their heads in approval,” President Hunter acknowledged. “Again, we will have to see what Tubrang Gilf’s comments are going to be. I would think that it should have them ready soon, with the speech in two days’ time.” “I will track it down, as soon as we are finished here,” the general said, “to inform it of what you and Peter are trying to accomplish at the time of the alien departure. Tubrang Gilf may have some input on what to say at that point. When I find out, I will forward those comments to your office.” “Thank you, General. And thank all of you here and there for your dedication and hard work in getting us to this point. I really do not know why, but something tells me that I am going to miss at least most of this when it is all over. Probably the camaraderie that has developed while under intense pressure. I hear that it often happens, no doubt out of necessity to accomplish things, even though normally we might not be able to stand the others. Maybe we can start having annual reunions. I am only kidding, of course.” “Well, Madam President, we have a lot of room out here at this desert base. Enough to accommodate a large group. And just like Vegas, “Whatever happens here, stays here,” thanks to our security. So no vicious rumors can find their way back to Washington.” “In that case, I just might change my mind about that reunion idea,” the president responded. “But for now, I have to our UN ambassador, Carl Worthington, to let him know about the finale that we are considering, which will involve more of a presence out at your remote base. With many other issues and activities at the UN this week, I want to make certain that there will not be any surprises, at least on Wednesday. to forward me Tubrang Gilf’s final comments and anything else that you can think of. We have to have all of this completed within twenty-four hours. Let’s say no later than noon tomorrow.” “Yes, Madam President.”

As General Paige approached the alien spaceship on the tarmac, he noticed Tubrang Gilf walking around the ship with its command assistant. They seemed to be conducting a walk-around that normally would be done on an aircraft just prior to starting the engines and taxing for takeoff. The command assistant appeared to be punching entries into an electronic pad as the commander clicked instructions or observations. A crew member was following along, making entries into a similar device. As the general neared, the command assistant noticed him approaching and spoke to his leader. Tubrang Gilf turned toward General Paige, who motioned for both aliens to remain in place, and then walked toward them. “General Paige,” the ship’s commander called out, “we are currently preparing our vessel for departure soon after your president’s speech. Tomorrow, we will have to take it on a test flight to assure that all systems are operative, prior to venturing out into the rigors of outer space. As you know, it can be a very hazardous environment, particularly for those who strike out into it unprepared. Even though both the stabilizer and the atmosphere generation system have been repaired, we still have various preflight procedures that need to be conducted that can only be done in space.” “Tubrang Gilf, I certainly do not want to get in your way, so I will be brief,” General Paige said. “As you know, we had what may be the final meeting this morning with the president prior to the speech on Wednesday. In the meeting, we discussed the necessity for the president to be able to refer to some of your final comments at the end of the speech, as the screen is showing you and your crew departing, so as to tie everything together to create the maximum emotional effect for those who have attended the speech at the United Nations or have viewed the speech via simulcast. “It is imperative that the president be able to do this just at that point as a motivational device to get the leaders of the various industrialized countries committed early on to the prodigious effort ahead for the Safe the Earth Initiative. She wants to use the footage of your departure, with some of your exact words in the background, to create the most dramatic effect when she attributes the chance we now have to save our planet to you and your crew. We hope it will convince them that we do have a chance to turn all of this around but

only if we do not hesitate and commit to follow your lead.” Tubrang Gilf stood motionless for some time, looking intently at General Paige. Then it spoke slowly and quietly. “Since we have been on your planet and involved in what I suspected to be your civilization’s feeble efforts at repairing our ship, more and more of your actions over time have served to contradict most of the commonly held beliefs that have been promoted by the Council regarding the lack of capabilities that your civilization presents. Again, your recent actions have contradicted most of those assumptions. I have come to respect you, both individually and collectively, for your abilities to grow in stature and achieve what you must to assure your long-term survival. I cannot predict how the efforts on the part of my civilization to achieve that same longterm survival will turn out, but I can tell you that I, personally, no longer the prospects of invading your planet, should events not prove beneficial at the two planets recently inhabited. “I will provide you with the comments that I intend to say from this base on the morning that we leave, about forty-eight hours, as you calculate them, from now. My crew and I are honored that your president intends on saying what you have just told me concerning what we have been able to contribute to your future efforts. I only hope that, somehow, your civilization will be able to find the strength and focus to carry through with what will be a long road.” “Yes, it will be a long road,” General Paige acknowledged. “Something that you just said, about your comments delivered from this base, brings to mind a detail that we will need to address beforehand. This all has to do with creating just the right image that will leave the correct impression on those watching and listening to you. We will need you to be standing in front of your spaceship, as you deliver your comments, with some of your crew working around the ship in the background. We also are going to need some of our personnel, such as base security, in the background as well. This will all be directed at creating the right perspective, by showing you and your stature in contrast to your crew and our military personnel. “After your departure, we will be barraged with comments, questions, and accusations about the veracity of what the government was showing from the base as the president was giving her closing comments in front of the General Assembly. They will, no doubt, accuse the istration of promoting a hoax,

just as was done subsequent to the first lunar landing decades ago, just to promote her istration’s actions to get global warming legislation ed through a mostly conservative House of Representatives. It undoubtedly will get ugly at times. For that reason, we need to make certain that when the people see you and your crew, along with of our military moving together on the tarmac and remaining there as your ship fires up and rises swiftly into the air, they will realize that it was real, and it will give further credibility to the message just delivered by the president, Peter Harrigan, and you.” “Yes, it must be that way,” Tubrang Gilf said. “It will be your last chance, while we are still here, to firmly set the stage, as you would say, for your future endeavors. We will be gone shortly after the speech has ended, and your civilization will be on its own. It will have to be willing and capable to make dramatic changes to the way it does just about everything. I will try to convey that aspect of it, based on my own civilization’s near-disastrous experience from long ago. I hope that it will be enough.” “So do I, Tubrang Gilf, so do I,” the general quietly responded.

The president’s secure motorcade proceeded swiftly down New York City’s streets, cleared of traffic in advance, toward the United Nations Headquarters building located on the East Side of Manhattan on an eighteen-acre site between Forty-Second and Thirty-Fourth Streets. Founded after World War II in 1945, it had the stated aims to, among others, promote and facilitate international cooperation in the fields of international law, global security, economic development, human rights, and world peace. For many in the United States, it had always been a controversial organization for those who viewed it as the beginning of a one-world government run by “Big Brother,” with vast powers over the people of the world, such as depicted in George Orwell’s book, 1984, written nearly a century ago. Rather than promoting the integrity of a country’s borders and its independence, they viewed the actions of the UN as increasingly serving only the interests of those intent on destroying the very idea of nationalism in favor of a world without borders, an idea certainly ed by those seeking to ultimately destroy the United States. However, had those in opposition to the United Nations been entirely honest in their views, they would have had to pay further homage to Orwell by including the ever-growing power of the transnational corporations as also contributing to the present threat to the integrity of government, perhaps even the ultimate threat. Now, the president of the United States of America, Anne Claire Hunter, Chief of Staff Ron Jolly, National Security Advisor Patricia Thomas, and Peter Harrigan approached the entrance to the very familiar edifice that housed the interests and efforts of nearly two hundred member states from around the globe. Waiting to greet the president and her entourage upon their precise 9:00 a.m. arrival were the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Consuelo Menendez; the US ambassador to the United Nations, Carl I. Worthington; and various dignitaries representing governments from around the world. The presidential vehicles came to a quick stop, and Secret Service personnel immediately emerged from their black armored vehicles and surrounded the presidential limousine. As the doors were abruptly opened, they moved to cover her approach to the entrance, eyes roving over the street, parking areas, and adjacent buildings. Within seconds, everyone was inside.

Warm greetings—quick hugs and handshakes—were exchanged before everyone moved into the interior hallways and from there into rooms adjacent to the General Assembly Hall, with its iconic map of the world, as seen from the North Pole, hanging above the speakers’ platform. Delegates from the member states were beginning to assemble in the large room that could accommodate many hundreds—many standing around chatting quietly, others already patiently seated. The Secretary-General would make some remarks shortly at the platform prior to the introduction of the president.

The situation at the remote base was tense in the early morning hours. The final hours of a momentous adventure for so many that would stay with them for the rest of their lives were now ticking down. Soon the events of plan B would be underway, and the hopes were that everything would go as planned. If they did not, if there was to be a glitch of some sort, it was pretty much out of their hands. General Paige and his group that had been through so much over the last four months were situated in the larger crew briefing room in the now-empty hangar. This was the site for many of the meetings involving various base personnel, of the construction crew that had handled the scaffolding and the stabilizer during its repair, the alien commander and its assistant, the president and her staff that accompanied her, and many others. They were assembled here to observe the speech that the president would give shortly, along with their compatriot, Peter Harrigan. His fiancée, Lt. Colonel Sara Bradford, had elected to remain behind at the base, rather than accompany Peter to New York, so that she could assist the general with the many items to be attended to, as the base would be basically decommissioned after the departure of the alien craft. General Atkins would have to stick around for some time to assure continued base security, until such time as those still trying to gain entrance to the base would grow tired and decide that continuing to fight coyotes and scorpions and smelling like bad road kill most of the time was becoming a bad idea. Better to get drunk at the local watering hole nightly and dance the two step with their significant others. Paul Harrigan and Katrina Douglas were preparing to leave the base shortly after the departure of the alien ship and return to whatever normal would be from now on at NASA. They would still be very much involved in challenging the boundaries of space and in the continuing story of the planet’s global warming scenario, gathering and analyzing an unending amount of data that would track civilization’s struggle with the realities of climate change. Karl Holzhauer, the European Space Agency’s representative to NASA, had remained in Europe after participating in the simulcasts there during the

demonstration flights that were part of the plan A of the Save the Earth Initiative. He would return to the United States soon, stationed at NASA’s Houston, Texas, complex, along with Katrina Douglas. Paul Harrigan would return to NASA’s Glenn Research Center, located at the Cleveland Hopkins Airport in Ohio. General Paige would find himself back at the Pentagon, still serving as chairman of the t Chiefs of Staff to the president, along with the other current . Certain influential people on the more conservative side of the political equation would begin the process of convincing him that he had all of the qualifications to become the next president of the United States, if only because his campaign chest would be generously funded to overflowing, if he decided that they just might be right. The immediate problem, however, when it came to ousting the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was that she seemed to be riding high in the public opinion polls of late, as long as this ridiculous issue of global warming remained in the forefront. Peter Harrigan and Lt. Colonel Sara Bradford would have the more difficult time of it, at least in the short run, for Sara’s orders were to return to Washington, along with General Paige, to continue as his adjutant. Where her next orders would take her was a question mark, but that would likely happen within the year, unless something intervened to change the time frame. Peter would soon return to Stanford, California, where he would pick up on his teaching responsibilities at the graduate level, along with attending to his position as the head of the Anthropology and Archaeology Departments. The most immediate dilemma for the two of them would be that she would be on the East Coast, and he would be on the West Coast, separated by five to six hours flight time and schedules that would be, at times, unrelenting. In the meantime, they would just have to find the time and tenacity to continue to be creative in satisfying their intense attraction for one another in what would be a long and prosperous marriage. In the end, they would take their grandchildren on many horseback rides in the desert. For now, most of the group sat in the room as the local time approached 7:00 a.m., awaiting the president’s speech.

The domed ceiling looked down upon the assembled delegates as they rose and applauded Consuelo Menendez, Secretary-General of the United Nations, and Anne Claire Hunter, the President of the United States of America, as they entered the room and proceeded to the podium at the front of the raised platform. Their images also appeared on two large flat-screen TVs located on each side of the golden UN seal poised above and behind them. The two stood side by side, waving to those within the room and—looking into the camera positioned at the rear of the room—to those viewing throughout the world. When the applause abated, the Secretary-General addressed the Assembly. “Assembled delegates, good morning. This morning, as you know, we will be addressing certain issues of a global nature relating to the responsibilities of nations to protect their local environments from the ravages of industrial pollution, particularly in countries negatively influenced by unrestrained corruption and violence. The growing levels of such environmental destruction is a threat to the entire global ecology and economy. With us this morning to address the Assembly on the issue of threatened global climate change due to continued environmental pollution on an international scale is Anne Claire Hunter, the President of the United States. And so, without further delay, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you President Hunter.” Those in the room again rose and applauded, as the Secretary-General grasped the hands of the president and then walked to her seat, leaving the president standing at the podium, looking out into a very large room packed with delegates from most of the world’s countries. President Hunter smiled and waved and then looked down at the prompter embedded in the surface. The room quieted, and the president began speaking. “Madam Secretary-General, assembled delegates, distinguished visitors, and those viewing from around the world, thank you for this opportunity to speak to everyone concerning as issue that an increasing number of people recognize as a potential threat to everything—and I repeat, everything—that we hold dear, including life itself. “What I have to say and how I will go about saying it is very important, so I

hope that you will bear with me. Before I am finished speaking, you will hear, not just from me but from two other presenters with stories to tell. Stories that, I assure you, will rock the very foundations of what we know, or think we know, about this planet and about the universe. So buckle your seatbelts, because, as the actress Bette Davis once said in one of her roles, “It’s going to be a very bumpy ride.” ” Having gotten their attention, President Hunter prepared the worldwide audience for what was to unfold before them this morning. Speaking slowly and deliberately, she set out the scientific data relating to the fact that the planet was dying at an ever-increasing rate, due mostly to man’s activities over the past centuries and particularly since the advent of the Industrial Revolution. She spoke, in part, of man’s continued reliance over that time on fossil fuel technologies, well past the time when it should have begun the transition to safer, more renewable sources. In the process, man eventually employed certain questionable methods of extracting hard-to-get-to fossil fuel energy, including injecting vast quantities of chemically enhanced water deep into Earth’s crust. That large-scale operation served to permanently remove huge quantities of fresh water from the hydrological cycle and, in the process, contributed to increasing air pollution, contaminated drinking water, and the release of high levels of methane gas into the atmosphere. Just when there were those who were hopeful that the planet could finally begin to wean itself from the dependence on gas-producing fossil fuel technologies, man then decided to tap into the methane hydrate gases bottled up in the onceextensive areas of Arctic permafrost to secure even more fossil fuel sources. But then the warming climate threatened to release a potentially devastating amount of that gas that would turn Earth’s atmosphere into a deadly cocktail, particularly if the permafrost was disturbed by large-scale mining activity. As the president continued, what began to startle her audience after a while was the nature of some of her revelations, for they were based on factors that none clearly recognized, evidence that could not have been obtained through known scientific measurements here on the planet. Some came to see that the president was leading them toward the conclusion that a significant portion of the data had been generated by entities not of the planet.

After thirty minutes, and much consternation and unease from many in the audience, President Hunter paused and looked out over the crowd. She deliberately wanted what she had just relayed to sink in before she proceeded. “Before I introduce the next individual to address this General Assembly, I want to make a point that I firmly believe in. As a civilization, we cannot engage in wishful thinking. What is happening to our environment cannot be ignored. Nor can we simply climb into spaceships that will whisk us away from a dying planet to ensure our continued survival. Our only chance here is to recognize our individual responsibilities to husband the natural resources that your Creator has entrusted to you. It is your duty to do so—your patriotic duty for your country, your government, and as a citizen. It is also your religious duty to whatever God is the foundation of your personal religion, for that God has given you resources with the expectation that you will take care of them into perpetuity. Ladies and gentlemen, you have to ask yourself the question, ‘How will my God judge me, if I fail in that duty?’ “Now, ladies and gentlemen, to reinforce what I have just said, I promised you that there would be two others who would add to my comments. These are the ones who have a story to tell that you must hear. At this time, I would like to introduce one of those to you. This is a man whom I have come to respect very much, for this person is the reason that I am here this morning and the reason for much of what has ensued over the past four months that will come to mean more to you than you can image at this time. So, be patient, and listen to what he has to say, for it is a story that will live in legend. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, Mr. Peter Harrigan.” The man entered the room from the same direction as had Consuelo Menendez and Anne Hunter and walked deliberately toward the podium, stopping next to the president, looking out toward the delegates. As he did, the reaction of the room was mixed. There was a fair smattering of applause but mostly looks of confusion and a murmuring of questions. “Mr. Harrigan is a man of accomplishment in many fields. Department head and professor at Stanford University, archaeologist, author, artist. He will begin by relating to you his part of the story; the second individual will continue, once Mr. Harrigan has set the stage. Mr. Harrigan?” The president left the podium to sit next to the Secretary-General, leaving Peter

alone in front of the world to relate an encounter that, at times, he had to convince himself had actually occurred. But he knew that this would not be over until he did tell the story, as he knew it. It would be up to Tubrang Gilf shortly to add an additional reality to it, so that no one could or would question what he was about to reveal. And realizing it for the first time, he knew that he really wanted to tell the world what had happened, because he would be unloading a burden that he had become tired of carrying. “Thank you, Madam President. And, thank you, Madam Secretary-General, for allowing me here, this morning, to address the distinguished delegates of the United Nations General Assembly. What I am about to tell you is a remarkable story. It begins, simply, with a morning hike in a remote part of the Southwest desert with my dog, Chance. From there, it gets rather complicated, as you will see.” Peter took the next twenty minutes to relate as best he could, given the time constraints, the basic details of an encounter that was much more involved than anyone could have imagined. He ignored, as previously agreed, any details of the near invasion. In the process, more listeners’ attentions were piqued, as they became more convinced as to where the story was heading—that it was going to involve the unlikely and questionable scenario of an alien encounter and the possibility that things were not going to be the same as they were when the delegates first entered the Assembly room. As Peter continued to add more remarkable details, such as the repair of an alien spaceship at a remote desert military base, a constant yet quiet buzzing started to fill the room from people making comments to one another. Others listening outside the Assembly room were reacting in the same way, particularly those who had surmised all along that certain statements that the Hunter istration, as well as other agencies in Washington, had been issuing, denying suspicious military-related activities in the desert or elsewhere, were at least misleading, if not bogus all together. Peter completed telling the story with the statement that his comments to this point had simply been a prologue to the final act. Waiting in the wings was the second individual, who was the one responsible for generating the damaging scientific data that the president had related earlier. With that, Peter reintroduced the president, who then quickly retraced her steps to the podium, thanking Peter for his remarkable and thought-provoking story. After which, Peter walked over

to where she had been sitting and ed the Secretary-General, who was equally as speechless as the others in the room. When the room quieted, President Hunter nodded her head to someone toward the back of the room, and immediately the two large flat screens suddenly revealed a location outdoors, with the rays of the early morning sun beginning to shine on a large, oval-shaped object. The object was positioned in front of a large building with a dark opening in front, and a number of figures, mostly small, were walking around the object. Just as people in the Assembly room were starting to react to the probable reality of what they were witnessing, another much larger figure suddenly appeared in the foreground, causing most people to react with an exclamation of some sort. The strange-looking being had the eyes similar to those of a predatory creature and a mouth that was more beaklike than not. It stood perfectly erect in military fashion. In less than a minute, when most everyone started to realize what they were watching, a distinct clicking sound emerged from the beaklike mouth, and the words emerging from it completely shocked the humans. “Madam President, we are ready for you.” “Thank you, Tubrang Gilf. Wait for the end of my comments. I will let you know when to begin.” “Very well,” the alien creature replied. Those in the Assembly Hall were completely aghast. Many were ri from their seats, pointing at the screens. Others were already in the aisles, staring at the strange form, trying to achieve some understanding of what was the most shocking thing that they could ever imagine. Questions abounded. “How could this be happening?” “What is going on here?” “Why did we not know anything about this beforehand?” “What danger is this woman subjecting us to, president or not?” “How we can prepare for this threat without more information?” Those questions and many others were asked throughout the room, as the threat of near panic loomed. “Please! Everyone! Please return to your seats!” President Hunter yelled from

the podium. “Everything is under control, I assure you! This is all part of my speech and part of what Peter Harrigan presented to you! I promise you; this will all make sense to you, when I am finished!” Still sitting next to Consuelo Menendez, Peter was alarmed at the reaction of many of the delegates. Glancing over at the Secretary-General, he could see in her eyes the alarm that she suddenly felt. Without hesitation, she quickly walked to the podium and ed the president in trying to quiet down many of the delegates. Ushers that had been standing along the side aisles had rushed in to get the delegates to return to their seats and to help restore order to the Assembly Hall. After several minutes, order was mostly restored. The Secretary-General was compelled to offer a firm yet positive statement to assure order during the remaining time that the president would be at the podium. Later, she would wonder why she had agreed to the format first proposed by the Hunter istration, for she suspected that, regardless of the fact that she had been briefed on many of the most secret aspects behind the president’s speech, the White House chief of staff had failed to fully inform her and her staff of the actual involvement of the alien beings and how potentially unnerving it might be to those watching and listening. When all had quieted down, Consuelo Menendez left the podium, and the president continued with the final portion of plan B of the Save the Earth Initiative effort. This type of reaction on the part of the unsuspecting delegates and those viewing, to the sudden appearance of the alien ship and crew, had been anticipated and discussed earlier during the initial planning. Despite the possibility of such a reaction, almost everyone felt that it was best to proceed within the confines of the UN Assembly Hall as the best way to initially limit that type of reaction to the delegates within the hall and to that small portion of the general public that would actually be tuned into the presentation. This reaction, however, had come as an uncomfortable surprise. “Thank you for your understanding and cooperation. I realize that this most recent disclosure has been disturbing for many of you, but as I tried to explain earlier, this is all a part of the much larger story of the threat that the world faces, if we do not recognize and address the very real risks that civilization faces within the current generation. Now, I would like to introduce you to the

individual you see on the TV screens. Its name is Tubrang Gilf, and it is the commander of the spaceship that you see in the background. Also, you see many of the ship’s crew working around the ship as they prepare to depart the planet on their way to the rest of their civilization. Again, it is attempting to survive the threat of a catastrophic collision of their home planet by another planetary body that will destroy it. “This was a significant part of the story that Peter Harrigan related to you a short time ago. Additional details will be forthcoming on this, I assure you, in the days, weeks, and months to follow. Now, it is important to allow Tubrang Gilf the opportunity to reinforce the environmental data, most of which it and its crew recently revealed, relating to the real global warming issue faced by all of mankind. Tubrang Gilf, I believe that we are finally ready for your portion of the presentation, if you will.” “Thank you, Madam President,” the alien commander said, the clicking noise still proving disconcerting to most delegates in the room and to those listening around the world. Just as the alien’s presence and first words had so disturbed the delegates, the same general reaction had taken place most everywhere else. Those viewing the presentation had decided, however, to quiet down after a few minutes, just like the delegates, out of curiosity to see what else would transpire. Everyone was completely mesmerized by this all-too-unreal occurrence that would become yet another reason for someone later asking, “Where were you when you first heard of the alien presence on the planet?” “I understand why your civilization would be surprised and shocked by the presence of my crew and me on your planet,” Tubrang Gilf continued. “As Peter Harrigan related to you earlier, landing on this planet was not intended, but mechanical failure necessitated that we had no choice. Again, as Peter related, the only solution to our dilemma was to agree to a repair of our spaceship, which I was doubtful your civilization could accomplish, for which I was proven wrong. “My ship has now been prepared, and my crew and I are prepared to depart shortly. While my ship was being repaired, I agreed to begin working with various countries and their governments to develop a proven schedule of changes that your civilization would have to adopt to prepare them for the rigors

of having to contend with undeniable and dramatic global warming and climate change. Earlier, the results of the environmental survey that I conducted in Earth orbit initially revealed that your planet was, in fact, dying. That it would only be a matter of time before a tipping point would occur, and you would lose any control that you may have had of reversing that trend. “It was agreed at that time that the government of the United States, under the leadership of the president and in participation with other governments, would engage in an international attempt known as the Save the Earth Initiative to convince others that cooperation in dealing with this harsh reality was absolutely necessary, if life on this planet was to survive. Unfortunately, there were and are those—in the United States government, primarily—who would continue to thwart any and all efforts to assure that life can and will survive. “Even if that can be achieved, and it must, your chances for actual survival much beyond the next three to five hundred years are still questionable. Beyond that, you will reach that tipping point, after which your survival becomes highly improbable. The point is that you do not have much time left to make the type of decisions that are necessary for your survival. Now, my crew and I are going to depart your planet. If and when we may return, or if and when your civilization may develop the technology to where you can visit my civilization, I cannot tell. I do hope that you will listen and heed the data that scientists on this planet and I have provided and will continue to provide. “Now, I invite you to me and my crew on a flight into Earth orbit and beyond. This was not a part of the original plan, but it is necessary to fully relate what you have been told with the reality that exists. It is the last thing that we can do for you before we leave your solar system. While in orbit for a brief time, for those of you who have not seen your planet from this perspective, you will see it for the truly beautiful and delicate thing that it is. This will be your opportunity to see for yourselves that but for the health of your planet, you have nothing in the end, unless you can travel in great numbers to the far reaches of the galaxy, as my civilization is trying to do.” Tubrang Gilf turned and headed for the spaceship on the tarmac. As he approached, Generals Paige and Atkins, Colonel Livermore, Lt. Colonel Bradford, Paul Harrigan, Katrina Douglas, and Karl Holzhauer (newly arrived from ) ed the alien ship’s commander at the elevator device that would lift the remaining crew into the ship’s belly.

This moment appeared to be very emotional for all, as the large alien creature grasped each of the humans with a claw-like hand. In a few instances, they seemed to engage in a minimal hug. They continued to talk among themselves, as the last of the ship’s crew —small and frail-looking creatures with extra-large eyes and dressed in gray uniforms—rose up into the ship. As the lifting device descended back to the tarmac, the large alien, dressed either in a green uniform or covered with feathers—it was difficult to determine—rose up into the ship and disappeared. Those still on the tarmac hurried away until they were positioned at the far edge of the paved area. All attention worldwide was riveted completely on what almost everyone viewing would assert was indeed a flying saucer. Not much occurred for several minutes. Many watching started to grow impatient. Then, the saucer seemed to be vibrating, and there would be those who would insist later that it seemed to emit a greenish glow as it suddenly lifted off the tarmac and rose slightly above the hangar. It hovered there for a few seconds, during which time the view on the screens in the General Assembly Hall and on screens around the globe switched to a view that could only have come from directly inside of the spacecraft itself. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion could have taken eyes off of that spectacle. Then, the spacecraft exploded away from its location about the hangars. It rose into the sky so quickly that attention spans could barely keep up with it. Layer after layer of clouds streamed by, as the ground disappeared more rapidly than it did with any of the rockets launched by NASA. Earth quickly diminished in size, until the vast expanses of continents and oceans were readily visible to all. For some, it brought back memories of viewing the planet as seen from the moon during NASA’s early days of the moon landings. Or from the later days of the space shuttle program, when live footage of astronauts working in space would show the planet as background. Now, after the age of no more than a minute, people were taking in the view of orbiting the planet. At this distance, nothing relating to the daily lives of nearly nine billion people was visible. For someone approaching the planet, it might have appeared uninhabited. As viewers were beginning to get used to the comforting perspective, the alien voice began …

“Do not let the view from this distance deceive you. We are all but small creatures in the overall scheme of things, yet we can and do have a profound effect on what is the natural flow of things. If we do not pay attention to that fact, we can readily disrupt that natural balance. If we ignore that long enough, we can—as is happening to your planet presently—set in motion irreversible consequences that can undo millennia of advancement. I implore you—do not let that happen. Again, I have presented to you a plan, based on what my civilization had to do eons ago to avoid ultimate destruction, that will assist you in avoiding the worst effects of the climate change that is coming. It is up to mankind at this point as to whether or not you can and will be successful. My civilization wishes your civilization a successful journey into the future.” The view from orbit suddenly and dramatically changed. The speed with which the spaceship had flown into orbit above Earth was a fraction of the speed with which it proceeded to leave the planet altogether. Earth was rapidly disappearing, the planet and its moon now barely visible. Whatever light from the sun there had been reflecting off the atmosphere was gone, and only that coming directly from the sun now filled the left side of the gigantic screen floating above the control consoles. The view of that average sun started to fill more and more of the left side of the screen. The gas giants in the solar system—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune —almost instantly flashed by in their respective orbits. Soon, the entire solar system could be viewed as a diminishing point of light near the center of the screen, and then it, too, vanished. More and more pinpoints of light streaking toward the spaceship were seen blending into streams of continuous lines of light aft of the ship. A silver glow enveloped the oval craft. The spaceship was now at near light speed. The stabilizer was working perfectly. At that point, the views from the two screens in the General Assembly Hall, those at the White House, at the remote base, and elsewhere around the planet went blank.

Epilogue

A head, the same continuous lines of light from ing stars and solar systems were streaking past the spaceship. Tubrang Gilf was still standing at the operations console. The assigned crew was busy with monitoring the everchanging positions of the ship, relative to approaching objects depicted on the suspended screen that showed the rapidly nearing celestial bodies. As it sped toward those planets now inhabited by many of its civilization, any reason for calling for a change in speed or direction would have to be anticipated well in advance for it to be effective in time. Just as Tubrang Gilf had decided that now was the time to forward a message to the primary exploration ship’s captain, giving it notice that they had departed from the planet and their current position, the ship’s commander was approached by its command assistant with a just-received message. “Excuse me, sir,” it said, “this just arrived from the primary exploration ship.” Tubrang Gilf took the portable receiver with the message displayed on it. Its command assistant remained at the commander’s side until the message was acknowledged and the second in command was excused. Tubrang Gilf read the message with some trepidation, for its substance once again brought up the issue of the suitability of the planet that they had just left to sustain, in this case, some Colony still on board one of the more distant Colony ships. According to this most recent message, one of the two planets surveyed earlier by another of the ships from the exploration fleet had, indeed, proven to be less than suitable for any additional Colony and probably would not sustain those already there for nearly as much time as first estimated. For now, however, the message said, the Council had ordered that Colony ship to proceed in the direction of that planet the inhabitants called Earth, until receiving a message from Tubrang Gilf’s ship suggesting otherwise. “If necessary, conduct an additional suitability survey to the earlier readings.” While Tubrang Gilf reread the message, unaware that its command assistant was

still at its side, the spaceship was streaking ever farther away from Earth. This prompted the second in command to ask, “Will there be a reply for the captain of the primary exploration ship, sir?” “A reply?” the commander replied, its mind reeling with conflicting thoughts and interests. “What sort of a reply would you suggest at this moment, keeping in mind, of course, that we are where we are at this point, thanks to the efforts of the inhabitants of the very planet that the Council may finally order to be invaded?” “Sir?” the command assistant inquired, for lack of a better response. “I know what our duty should be, Assistant—allegiance to the Council, of course. But there are other considerations to take into . The primary one being, for both the Council and its and the human population, the future of the planet itself. Everything rests on that. I have not been entirely honest with either, you see. Earlier, I could have informed the Council that planet Earth was salvageable, but at a tremendous long-term risk, and left it to the Council to make that decision. Under intense pressure to relocate our burgeoning population, they probably would have ordered the habitation of the planet, and those relocated there would have, in all probability, perished. “In the beginning, I should have informed the human population that their planet was dying, without any chance of rescuing it. That their populations and those of other species on the planet were doomed in the end, as the planet’s environment turned hostile and would remain so for hundreds of thousands of their solar years. I did not have the heart to tell them the entire truth at the time. Something inside of me wanted them to continue to struggle to survive against all odds, for that is what our civilization is endeavoring to do as well. “In neither case did I tell the entire truth. And so, a significant portion of our population and the vast majority of theirs will likely perish, regardless of what anyone can do. After all, it is what the universe is all about—giving life and taking it away. And in that process, life will always find itself struggling for survival.”