World Order

by David Archer

  “Yes, I know,” Noah said. “Staff Sergeant Graves and Warrant Officer Smith. When was the last time you heard from either of them?”

  “Graves and Smith? They were on last night, on the game.”

  “The computer game? That outpost is supposed to be on a communications blackout, how did they manage to get online?”

  “We are Military Intelligence, Noah,” Swaggart said, looking at him as if he were stupid. “They have a satellite equipped microcomputer, encrypted so no one can pick up the signal. Why? Has something happened out at the observation point?”

  “Not that I’m aware of just yet,” Noah said, “but I think it’s probably only a matter of time. Think about it; McRae was abducted, and then a day later Private Latham was murdered. I have a hard time believing there is no connection, which means McRae has probably been tortured and interrogated. Whoever we are dealing with probably has all of your names and knows exactly where to find you. It may be nothing but a stroke of luck that we got you before they did.”

  Swaggart stared at him for a moment, then swallowed hard. “Then we need to get my people out of there,” he said. “We’ve been working hard to get whatever information we can, and we can’t afford to let the mission fail completely.”

  Noah looked at him for a moment. “Can you recall them? Get them back here?”

  Swaggart grinned. “Just get me to a com center.”

  “Follow me,” Noah said. “And, by the way. What do you know about Carl Litchfield?”

  This time, the confusion on Swaggart’s face was real. “Carl who?”

  “You never heard of him? He’s former MIC, himself. Just relax, because you’ll get to know him soon.”

  NINE

  Forward Observation Base Charlie, which was the official designation for the small outpost in Catamarca Province that was attempting to watch the activities at the unknown compound, was a hotbed of activity. Squads Echo and Foxtrot were preparing for their first attempts to get close to the compound, and their squad leaders were trying to impress upon the soldiers just how dangerous the mission was going to be.

  Colonel Charles Berkshire, the Base Commander, was nervous. He’d already lost four squads who were sent to try to get close to the compound, and he wasn’t looking forward to losing any more of his men. He was observing the briefing, trying to convince himself that lieutenants Morton and Shaw were capable of bringing their men back alive, but the more he listened to the bravado of the soldiers under their command, the more convinced he was that he was sending another dozen men to their deaths.

  “Colonel Berkshire,” he heard, and he turned to see his clerk. “Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but you have a priority communication coming in. It’s coded Sierra Tango 7, Sir.”

  Berkshire got up and followed the clerk back to the command center. ST-7 was the designation for an emergency communiqué out of Military Intelligence Corps, and could mean that the mission was being scrubbed. As badly as he wanted to get the answers he was sent for, Berkshire also wanted to stop wasting the lives of his men.

  He stepped into the com shack, the room in his command center that housed the encrypted radio system used for military communication, and ordered the radioman out. ST-7 was for his attention only. He clamped the earphones onto his head.

  “This is Colonel Berkshire,” he said into the microphone.

  “Colonel, this is Captain Jack Swaggart, MIC. Authentication follows. Alpha, Zulu, Hotel, India, Romeo. Please confirm and authenticate.”

  AZHIR; that was the authentication code Berkshire had been given. “I confirm,” he said. “Authentication follows. Golf, India, Zulu, Tango, Charlie.”

  “Colonel Berkshire, I confirm. Colonel, I need you to get two of my people on the way back to Donovan Range right away. Specifically, I need Staff Sergeant Paula Graves and Warrant Officer Daniel Smith to be sent back immediately, by special transport if necessary.”

  Berkshire hesitated for just a second. He knew who Sergeant Graves was, because she headed up one of the fire teams in Foxtrot Squad that was about to go out. Pulling her out of the squad would mean having to scrap them from the entire recon mission. They couldn’t put someone else in her position and send them out on such a dangerous patrol so quickly, so it would justify keeping the entire squad back.

  Warrant Officer Smith, on the other hand, Berkshire didn’t know. “Understood,” he replied. “I’ll have them located and on the way within twenty minutes.”

  “Very good, sir,” Swaggart said. “Swaggart out.”

  Berkshire set down the microphone and took off the headset. He shouted once for the radioman to return, got up and left the room. His clerk, Sergeant McCoy, was seated at his desk once again.

  “McCoy,” he said. “Send a runner on the double to notify Lieutenant Shaw that Squad Foxtrot is being scrubbed from the recon mission. Tell him to send Staff Sergeant Graves to locate Warrant Officer Daniel Smith and bring him here, immediately. I want both of them packed and ready for transport back to Donovan within fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” McCoy said. He was up and out the door even before he finished speaking, and Berkshire sat down behind his own desk. As he had expected, Lieutenants Morton and Shaw came bursting through the door only five minutes later, and both of them snapped to attention and saluted when they stood in front of his desk.

  Berkshire returned the salute. “At ease,” he said. “I know what this is about, but you can both settle down. Shaw, I just got orders to ship Sergeant Graves back to Donovan. That being the case, I cannot allow your squad to go out on this recon.” He turned his attention to Lieutenant Morton. “In addition, there is no way in hell I’m going to let your squad go out alone. I’m scrubbing the recon until Foxtrot has a couple of days to get a new fire team leader in place.”

  “But, sir,” Lieutenant Morton began, but the look in Berkshire’s eyes made him chop it off. “Yes, sir,” he said smartly. “Permission to speak, sir.”

  “Granted,” Berkshire replied.

  “Sir, my squad is primed and ready. We can handle the recon on our own, sir.”

  “That may be true,” Berkshire said, “but I’m not willing to take the chance. Lieutenant Morton, every squad we have sent out there has either vanished or come back dead. I’m not anxious to add names to the list of those we have to send home in boxes. When you go, it will be with a full squad backing you up. Is that understood?”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Then you’re both dismissed,” Berkshire said. Both men saluted, executed perfect about-face maneuvers and walked out of the office. Berkshire watched them go, and felt a little bit of relief that neither of them was likely to end up on the casualty list that day.

  Graves and Smith arrived moments later, both of them seeming confused about the sudden recalls.

  “Sir, Warrant Officer Smith and Staff Sergeant Graves reporting as ordered, sir,” Smith said as they both saluted.

  “At ease, soldiers,” Berkshire said. He returned the salute, and they both relaxed their posture. “I’m sure you’ve been told you’re going back to Donovan. If you’re here to ask why, all I can tell you is that I’m following orders just like you.” He looked them both over for a moment. “Considering the nature of the orders I got, I have to assume that neither of you is exactly who you seem to be. Regardless, you’ve both been an incredible asset out here, and I’m sorry to see you go.” He mentally crossed his fingers at the polite untruth. “There’s a C-27 on the airstrip warming up, and it’s waiting for the two of you to get aboard. Don’t let me keep you from getting on it.”

  Both soldiers snapped to attention once again, saluted and turned to leave. As they stepped out of the command center, Graves looked over at Smith.

  “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I get the feeling the shit is about to hit the fan. If Swaggart called us back, things must be bigger than we thought.”

  “Or they decided it’s nothing at all,” Smith said. “I don’t buy this whole aliens i
n the jungle thing. That sounds too much like a Schwarzenegger movie.”

  “Something out there is picking off our people. You saw the footage from Jorgensen’s body cam. Whatever that was, it wasn’t human.”

  Smith shrugged. “Well, maybe Swaggart will have some answers when we get back. I’m just glad to go back to somewhere that has air conditioning.”

  * * *

  Litchfield came through the door of ops a few minutes later, and Jenny caught his attention, crooking a finger for him to come closer.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “The Dragon Lady wants to see you,” Jenny said. She pointed. “Through that door.”

  Litchfield looked where she pointed and then walked over and knocked lightly on the door. Allison’s voice came through clearly, telling him to come on in.

  “You wanted to see me, ma’am?” he asked.

  “I do indeed,” Allison said. “Mr. Litchfield, you came to me with good recommendations. I was told that you would be an asset to our team, and to our mission. Now, it’s come to my attention that you may know a whole lot more about what’s going on here than you are supposed to. Would you care to enlighten me?”

  Litchfield looked confused. “Ma’am? I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

  “Litchfield, I’ve just learned that there is another mission in Argentina working on the same compound that we were sent to investigate. They seem to be from Military Intelligence, but I can’t help wondering if you might be involved with them somehow. We already know you haven’t been completely truthful with us, so I want to give you one chance to come clean before I decide whether to ship you back home in the seat of an airplane, or in a box in the cargo hold.”

  Litchfield stared at her for a couple of seconds, his eyes wide, but then he relaxed them and began to grin. “If anybody else said that to me, I would say they were bluffing. Trouble is, I know too much about you to dare think that. I can tell you that I am not connected to Military Intelligence, and I am not aware of any mission they may have with regard to your target.” He cleared his throat and then sat down in the chair in front of her desk. “Now, having said that, I should tell you that you are correct in your suspicion that I am not quite what I seem to be. My name really is Carl Litchfield, and I really am the security commander for Area 51, but I’m also a Special Agent of the United States Exotic Corps. USEX is an even more secret organization than your own, and comprises less than two hundred personnel. Our job is to be ready to handle any contact with alien intelligences.”

  Allison nodded. “I see,” she said. “Then, you have something to do with the so-called Men in Black?”

  “Absolutely not,” Litchfield said. “Most of the reports of Men in Black are purely bogus, but there have been a few that seem to have some basis in truth. Trying to find out more about them falls under the purview of my organization.”

  “So, you’re supposed to be here just in case this turns out to really be aliens. That’s interesting, since you went to such great lengths to try to convince us that it simply couldn’t be. I take it that was another area where you lied to us?”

  “Not at all,” Litchfield said. “I’m personally convinced that what we are dealing with is nothing more than somebody trying to convince the rest of the world that aliens arrive. Using Branigan and his research to do so only makes sense if it’s not real. However, some of the mutations that Branigan’s Cocktail can produce could create forms of life that would be considered quite alien to the rest of the world. They would also likely be very hostile, which would make them incredibly useful in any attempt to create panic. My people suspect that whoever is pulling this off is trying to do just that, create a panic by dropping genetically modified creatures into different locations around the world. The creatures themselves would be sacrificial pawns; they would undoubtedly be killed or captured, but once the cocktail has done its job, it would be very difficult to determine that they were ever Earthly creatures at all.”

  The door to the office opened and Noah stepped inside, followed by Neil, Renée and Jenny. There was a bench on one side of the office, and all four of them sat down on it.

  Allison waited for Litchfield to acknowledge their presence. “Mr. Litchfield, we already have evidence that somebody is experimenting on human beings with the stuff. What can you tell us about those experiments? And don’t try to tell me that no human experimentation has been done, because I won’t believe you. I know the scientific mind pretty well, and they can’t resist trying something like this, no matter how immoral it might be.”

  Litchfield licked his lips, glancing once again at Noah before he turned back to Allison to reply.

  “All right, yes,” he said. “Branigan and his staff did experiment on a number of human subjects. Some of them were so close to the descriptions of aliens in so many alien abduction stories that it was almost like life copying fiction. They grew two to four feet taller, their lower legs became considerably longer than normal, heads and brains grew roughly thirty percent and the faces became long and thin. Eyes grew larger and more almond shaped, and the skin changed to various shades of blue or gray.”

  “Which accounts for a lot of the leaked footage of alien creatures,” Allison said. “Am I correct about that?”

  “That was the propaganda division,” Litchfield said. “They felt that leaking some footage and then spreading a campaign to debunk it would help keep a lid on what we were really doing.”

  “What other changes did those human subjects undergo?” Noah asked.

  “That depends on how the cocktail affected them,” Litchfield said. “Some of them became more intelligent, while at the same time losing all tendency toward aggression. Others, because of something in their own DNA, simply became murderous. Like Dorothy, they seem to be always angry, always violent.”

  “It affects people in different ways?” Renée asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Litchfield replied. “Branigan and his team were working on determining what factors in the subject’s DNA caused what particular reactions when he disappeared with a large sample of the cocktail.”

  “You’ve described two different kinds of effects,” Renée said. “What other effects are there?”

  Litchfield suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Look, there’s only so much I’m allowed to tell you,” he said. “I was ordered to tell you only what I felt you needed to know in order to help you accomplish your mission. I can’t give you all the answers, that’s not…”

  “Give me twenty minutes alone with him,” Jenny said, smiling at him. “He’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “Not quite yet, Jenny,” Allison said. “Mr. Litchfield, I really don’t care how secret your organization is. My own orders from the President of the United States tell me to make decisions on who presents a true and legitimate danger to our society, and to then order their elimination. My oath to the Constitution was to protect our country from all enemies, foreign and domestic, and I suspect you took a similar oath at some point. Right at this moment, I’m not sure you don’t fall into one of those categories, so why don’t we just cut out the bullshit and you tell me what’s really going on, here. You were asked a question, and I expect to hear the answer. If I don’t, I just might decide to let Jenny get it her way.”

  “And you won’t like it,” Jenny said, still smiling.

  Litchfield glanced at Noah, but his steely gray eyes offered no help. He took a deep breath, then looked at Allison once again.

  “I don’t know all of the answers,” he said. “What I do know is that there were a few subjects who showed no visible changes, while still gaining greatly increased strength and stamina. If the scientists can figure out what makes the difference, then the treatment will be considered for possible use in the soldiers of the future. As for the rest of them, I don’t know anything about the effects they have.”

  “So, you people are hoping to create super soldiers?” Allison asked. “I’m assuming these people will all be volunteers?”


  Litchfield looked uncomfortable again. “As far as I know, none of the treatments were, or will be, performed on anybody who didn’t volunteer,” he said. “However, some of the initial experiments did involve condemned prisoners. They were offered a chance to avoid lethal injection and continue living in return for their cooperation, and more than two dozen agreed. These were people who had no family, who could easily be made to disappear, of course. They were all informed that if the experiment were to be a failure, they might still be terminated, but that if it succeeded, they would have a chance to live out their lives in a controlled environment.”

  “Okay, then tell me what you can about those people,” Allison said. “What happened to them with the cocktail, and how many are still alive?”

  Licking his lips, Litchfield said, “Of the original twenty-six volunteers, only nine remain alive today. Six of them are so drastically different that they never leave the underground bunkers. Those are the ones who have been taken for aliens. The other three show no physical differences at all, but they are much stronger than before. They can run at twice the speed of a normal man and deadlift more than a thousand pounds. I’ve seen one of them jump thirty feet straight up, and all of them are damn near bulletproof. Anything less than an armor piercing round doesn’t even leave a mark.” He grinned. “They say it still hurts like hell, though.”

  Allison looked at Noah. “Anything you want to ask?”

  “Yes,” Noah said. “Litchfield, why are you really here? You claim to be part of the security from Area 51, but I saw your reaction when we showed you the creature that attacked one of the lost patrols. You weren’t just interested, you got excited. Why?”

  Litchfield looked him in the eye for a moment. “Agent Wolf,” he began, “I’m exactly who I told you I am. What you saw in my face wasn’t excitement, it was sheer terror.”

  “Terror?” Noah asked. “That thing frightened you?”

  “Damn right, it did. One of Branigan’s experiments got loose a couple years ago, actually escaped and managed to evade capture for eight days. It survived the desert with no problem, not even a sighting until it got to the town of Broken Spring, Nevada, almost fifty miles away. Broken Spring was a very small town, and the people there were pretty shocked to see a nine-foot alien-looking creature turn up. Some of them tried to capture it, and I guess all hell broke loose. Their town constable called in a report that something alien was attacking them, but he went off the air before he could give any details.”