Jackie leaned into him and put her head on his chest. "I was worried sick about you," she said. "Stanford had no idea where you had gone and I was afraid."
Christopher put his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder. "I was at Onizuka, working."
"Working on what?" she asked.
"Can't say," he said. "But I am sure beat. I haven't slept much for the past two days and I'm too wired to sleep now."
"I know the perfect sleeping medication," she murmured as her hand went between the buttons on his shirt. She began to caress his chest lightly with her fingertips.
A low moan escaped his lips as he remembered her ability to push just the right button to get a reaction from him. His hand encircled her breast and squeezed, gently rubbing the hardening tip through the fabric of her top.
A half hour later he knew that she was right as he drifted off to sleep.
He awoke with a start and panic flooded his mind. Did he oversleep?
He carefully climbed out from under Jackie and went into the kitchen. Under the cabinet, he saw his under counter clock radio. 6:34 glared at him with a small dot lit next to the printed letters 'AM'. Relief swept over him as the dread of a missed opportunity left his mind.
Standing naked in his kitchen made him feel lewd as he made coffee. He finished the preparations and went into his bedroom, gathered clean clothes and stepped into the bathroom to shower. Three days accumulation of human activity washed off him as he relaxed under the stream of hot water.
Finished, he searched his closet for a small overnight bag imprinted with the words "Vintage Crushers" and an emblem of a Herculean figure squeezing the letter V filled with grapes. The bag, a holdover from his high school days, was quickly filled with two sets of clean clothes. He carried the bag into the kitchen, in time to pour a cup of hot coffee into his travel mug.
Mixing the coffee with sugar, he put a lid on the syrupy mixture and sat down at the table to scribble a quick note to sleeping beauty in the other room.
"Gone to work. Back in a few days. Love Jorg."
He quietly left, carrying his bag and coffee, leaving much earlier than necessary for the short trip to Moffet Naval Air Station. He would have done well to turn on the radio. As it was, he found out soon enough.
CHAPTER 26
Puente Piedra, Peru
Captain Marsh of Her Majesty's Special Air Service cat napped throughout the night and he approvingly noticed that Lieutenant Murphy did so as well. They both stirred as the watch changed and they each took turns checking the situation. This exchange occurred without a single word being spoken. When morning arrived, both were well enough rested though still a bit tired. Morning in military terms. It was 0400 hours.
"Nick old boy," Captain Reginald Marsh called.
"Good morning Captain, and its Nicholas not Nick. I always hated the name Nick Murphy, so I use Nicholas."
"Right. Anyway, I have a trick to purify water. Works better, water pills leave such a nasty taste in the water. Real easy if you're interested," Marsh said.
"Sure, anything tastes better than this stuff." It's true, almost anything tastes better than purified water. Nicholas was making a cup of instant coffee from a powder just to try and kill the horrid flavor.
"Well, first you get a one ounce glass bottle and put a dozen or so iodine crystals in it. Fill the bottle with water and shake it for about a minute. Then pour it into a liter of water. I guess you lads would use a quart, about the same as a liter. Let it set for fifteen minutes and you have water that's safe to drink. Be sure not to pour the crystals into it or you'll likely get sick. The crystals will last for years," Captain Marsh explained. "Oh yes," he added with a chuckle, "make sure none of you lads are pregnant. You'll get sick if you're pregnant."
Lieutenant Murphy laughed outright. "I'll have to tell 'em." It was the first laugh he'd had since entering Peru. It felt good.
They had camped just north of town and all that remained in front of them before Ancon was a short section of the Pan American Highway running through the early morning coastal desert.
32°43’44.10”N 1°51’55.98”W
Near Bouafra, Morocco
Major Mumsford crouched down in the wadi, or dry stream bed. His team was a klick and a half from the plateau where the UFO’s were parked. Luckily the main wadi branched into a tributary, also dry, that led directly to the plateau. He met with his leadership team.
Captains James Harder, Wesley Agricom and Hershel Harrison, also known as double H, and Colour Sergeant Webly met against the crumbling wall of sandy dirt that concealed them from the plateau a dozen klicks away.
“Looks like we got lucky chaps,” Major Mumsford said. “This cut meanders off in our direction. Stay spread out and quiet. We move toward the plateau. No hurry yet, so be on guard for any movement,” he cautioned.
And as he finished speaking a triangular shaped craft arose from the plateau and flew off to the south, seconds before another arrowed in over their heads to land on the rise before them. The complete silence of the maneuver was eerie as the forty-eight British Marines exchanged glances among themselves. Earlier the craft were mere moving dots above them at great altitude. Now the reality hit home as they viewed their adversary much closer. Science fiction be damned thought Double H. This isn’t fiction anymore.
UFO Park
Pacasmayo Sand Dunes
Wemar was satisfied with the completion of the implant. The wound had been closed and healed before the native was awakened.
Ramon gained consciousness slowly. He felt strange, unable to concentrate on his surroundings. He felt like he was not alone, but couldn't explain to himself why he felt this way.
Wemar was observing the native's reaction to the presence of the implant. Occasionally, different species were discovered who couldn't tolerate the foreign implant and had to be terminated. If that was the case, she would dissect the creature to learn more. No great difference between the two, other than the potential for more discovery with the native alive.
Ramon opened his eyes and tried to place his presence in this chamber. He was inside a room with three metal walls and a glass wall that reflected his image. He focused his eyes on an indistinct motion beyond the glare of the glass and froze. The movement was that of a huge man shaped reptile-like being.
He blinked his eyes in an effort to see the apparition more clearly, but the bright light inside his chamber prevented a better view. The interior was filled with the muffled noise of machinery and he heard the quiet squeaking of something on the floor. A look down convinced him that he was someplace alien. Small ant-like creatures quickly traveled about the floor in a seemingly aimless pattern. He carefully sat up and placed his foot on the floor. The creatures avoided the area under his foot as it descended. He was trying to make sense of his predicament when suddenly, he knew.
Wemar sat still as the native sat up and put an appendage on the floor. Directing her thoughts toward the glass module, she gained control of his mind and directed him to leave the chamber.
Ramon got up and walked toward the door without conscious thought. He left the chamber after opening the door with a complex series of button pushing that he was barely conscious of. He entered the night desert of coastal Peru, striding with a purpose unknown to him.
Special Forces Team Bravo
Pacasmayo Sand Dunes
PFC Blake Mayer was in position overlooking the UFO park when the person appeared. The team had earlier split into two groups of three to facilitate observing the park. Twelve hours on and twelve hours off. What had started out to be the height of excitement had quickly turned into boredom as the aliens remained motionless. The motion below was the first indication of movement in over fourteen hours.
Blake had been on 'duty' for less than an hour when the starlight scope revealed the activity. A single word spoken over the low power infrared line-of-sight radio alerted the Captain.
Captain Winfred had not assigned himself to a watch, instead opting to be read
y for any eventuality. He had sat with each member of the team at their station for at least a few moments, encouraging them with his presence. He then went to their makeshift 'base', actually just the spot where they gathered, half covered with sand to break up their outline for camouflage. He was moving toward the ridge moments after the alert signal.
"What'cha got Blake?" Winfred asked quietly.
"Movement between the big building and the big round ship, sir. I think it was the person carried in earlier," Blake whispered. "By himself. Not with anyone or anything else."
"Okay, let's just sit here a moment and watch," Winfred said quietly.
Minutes passed slowly as the desert was silent with sterility. The oppressive heat of the day had turned into a cool evening, and that had turned into a cold night. The air was crisp with both cold and tension as the two sat noiselessly watching. Slowly a low hum began to fill the air. The beginnings of the noise were so indistinguishable from the silence that neither Blake nor Winfred were aware of it at first.
The hum rose in intensity and pitch until they were aware of nothing else. Slowly, seven round craft began to rise into the night sky. These were vehicles that were not part of the patrol routine. Of the seven, one was slightly larger and appeared to lead.
Vic began to assemble his satellite radio, wishing he could speak into it rather than text messages the burst transmission. He sent the message about the craft taking off and awaited instructions. Several minutes passed before a return message arrived. Once decoded, it read "Message acknowledged, continue as before."
Vinson Carrier Battle Group
Off the west coast of Peru
"Home base, Sentry twenty-two."
"Sentry twenty-two, this is home base"
"Seven, repeat, seven high speed bandits leaving bandit base. Course, Three two two degrees, speed accelerating through Mach five, altitude fifteen thousand feet and climbing."
"Copy Sentry twenty-two. We have them on the repeater."
The CIC Watch Officer picked up the phone and called the Captain’s quarters first, then the CAG. Inside the Flag CIC, an aide to the Admiral dialed his boss as well. Less than a minute later, this information was relayed to US Third fleet in San Diego, US Southern Command, Quarry Heights in the Panama Canal Zone (soon to take over tactical command of the situation), and the Pentagon. The people who needed to know weren't told until it was too late to do anything about it.
CHAPTER 27
Inside the lead 'bandit'
San Francisco, CA
Ramon sat in silence as the vehicle accelerated around him. He was comfortable in his surroundings as any sensation of movement was dampened by technology far beyond his ability to comprehend. He was conscious of his predicament, yet unable to do or feel anything about it. Like watching a very realistic dream and being unable to wake up.
The vehicle in which he sat attained a speed of over six thousand miles per hour during its short time in flight. Experts would later speculate that the ship must have projected some sort of field around itself because of the lack of heat absorption of the hull.
After a time, Ramon arose from the chair and went down a passageway. He arrived at a chamber partitioned by a sliding door. He obediently stood motionless for several minutes until the door cycled open. He stepped into the small chamber and the door slid closed behind him. Scant seconds passed before another door opened to the outside. He stepped out of the ship and into the world's spotlight.
San Francisco Bay Area
The numerous military installations of the Bay Area were relatively quiet at 4:28 A.M. A few duty Watch Officers and enlisted counterparts were on duty. At the Combat Systems Technical Schools Command on Mare Island Naval Shipyard, Seaman Second Class Joseph James was trying to understand the radar system he was to master before graduation. He had come in early to gain some extra study time on the SPS-49 when he spotted a return on the scope. At first he thought it was a commercial airline, but then he noticed the high speed. At that point, he thought it might be from Alameda Naval Air Station, twenty miles south. Then when he translated the nautical miles per hour into a figure exceeding Mach four and he realized that he was wrong.
The course of study at the Naval Schools on Mare Island do not allow for much extra circular reading, so he was unaware of the UFO’S in Peru. He concluded that what he saw on the scope was undoubtedly an anomaly from poor maintenance.
On Center Street, in Fremont, California, just off Interstate 880, there is a complex of buildings surrounded by a cyclone fence topped with razor sharp concertina style barbed wire. The gate in this fence is manned twenty-four hours a day by an armed guard, typically former military or police personnel, trained in the use of lethal weapons. The first thing one notices about this complex is the immense log periodic array antenna adjacent to the building. Next, one notices the large number of microwave dishes on the roof.
John Kellerman was inside the main structure, sitting at his console. He had just completed his regulation coffee break, termed 'decompression' because of the extreme high pressure environment in which he worked. Because of this pressure, the coffee break room contains a variety of amusement devices not normally found in the typical office break room. Devices such as the latest pinball and video games as well as a pool table. John was a Senior Air Traffic Controller at Oakland Center, the FAA's Air Traffic Control Center for the San Francisco Bay Area.
The cavernous room in which he now sat was cast in a twilight glow twenty-four hours a day. The ceiling is close to forty high and this vastness is divided by a partition running down the middle with separate control consoles on each side of it. An open area between the work consoles and the break room contains additional 'decompression' booths for those who require a different form of relaxation.
John enjoyed working the early morning shift as the traffic load was slightly less congested. To say he was surprised at the incoming air traffic would have been an understatement.
"Aircraft approaching Oakland Center at flight level one six, course twenty-two degrees, please turn on your IFF indicator and squawk three three one," John said into the lightweight microphone attached to his custom made headset.
Ten seconds later he had heard no response. "Aircraft approaching Oakland Center, be advised that you must turn on your IFF indicator"
An additional ten seconds passed with no response to his query. He signaled for a supervisor as he broadcast "Attention all aircraft in the Oakland Center area, attention all aircraft in the Oakland Center Area. There is now a group of aircraft not responding to instruction. Be advised that their current course will take near the holding pattern at SFO."
Harold Lincoln hurried over to John's console and watched for a moment. He spoke "John, take the traffic, I'll take the unidentified aircraft."
Harold moved to another display and plugged his headset into it. "Unidentified aircraft approaching Oakland Center, be advised that you are in violation of FAA regulations and you will be in serious trouble if you do not comply immediately." He then noticed the speed and assumed that since the aircraft were breaking the sound barrier they must be Navy or Air Force. The Navy has two Air Stations in the immediate area and the Air Force has a base in Fairfield. Most military pilots learn early in their careers that failure to follow the rules is heavily frowned upon.
He quickly contacted each military installation only to find that they were not US Military Aircraft. At that point, all they could do was to keep other aircraft away from them and each other. At the present time there were sixteen passenger aircraft operating in the Oakland Center's area of responsibility carrying over nineteen hundred people enroute to or from the three major metropolitan airports in the Bay Area. The pressure applied to the Air Traffic Controllers' conscience was increased tenfold with worry as the incoming unidentified aircraft approached San Francisco. They were lost from radar directly over the city.
US Army Base
Presidio of San Francisco
First Lieutenant Kelly Bo
yes had gone to sleep around 3 A.M. secure in the knowledge that his command judgment would not be called into use for the remainder of the night. He was the Commanding Officer of the 32nd Tactical Missile Battery and the most pressing problem he had had since the beginning of this alert had been the disappearance and subsequent return of one PFC (soon to be private). He had stumbled in dead drunk about 2:15 A.M. and had been immediately confined to the post stockade pending further investigation.
Boyes had spent the last moments before sleep detailing in his mind the wording of the report he would file regarding the PFC's behavior.
His anti-aircraft battery was deployed along the water’s edge in the middle of Crissy Field, near the northern most section of the Presidio Army base itself. Lieutenant Boyes was sacked out with his men near the mobile launch tractor when the duty NCO shouted at him. It took vital seconds for him to respond to the NCO's words, thereby losing the slim window of launch potential against the incoming UFO’s.
Boyes reacted to the call by climbing out of his sleeping bag and running into the trailer. Sergeant Wilson said "Goddamn Lieutenant, they was moving fast, no identification or nothing. Just stopped and went straight down."
The Lieutenant looked at Sergeant Wilson for a moment before speaking. When he did speak, the resignation was evident in his voice "You're not fucking with me are you Sergeant?"
"No sir," Wilson said indignantly.
"Okay, let's see what we got."
By then, of course, it was too late.
CHAPTER 28
San Francisco Police Radio
Zone 3, Park and Central Districts
460.500 MHZ
"Seven Tom one oh six, Dispatch"
"Seven Tom one oh six "
These Few Brave Souls Page 12
