Area 51_Redemption

by Bob Mayer

  Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home’.”

  There was a short silence, then Joseph spoke. “But, my friends, it is not yet time for us to sing our death song.”

  “It is not,” Leahy agreed.

  Asha unfolded her legs and stood, awkwardly hugging Joseph, then Leahy.

  “What is wrong with your arm?” Leahy asked.

  Asha nodded at Joseph. “Please?”

  Joseph took her left hand, put his other hand under her armpit. Then he jerked, popping the ball into the socket. The only reaction from Asha was a sharp intake of breath.

  “Thank you,” Asha said.

  “You are welcome,” Joseph said.

  They turned and looked down on the Facility as children began running in, a handful of adults among them.

  “We are staying?” Asha asked.

  Leahy nodded. “There isn’t time to get to the mothership. And we’d have to displace the Chosen. That path isn’t a certainty.”

  “This is not either,” Asha said.

  “I know,” Leahy said, “but between the Chosen on the mothership and us, we increase humanity’s odds. We planned for this possibility. This adds redundancy.”

  Joseph chuckled. “You mean you planned for this. The two of you. I am old and considered wise among the people, but the two of you are the future.”

  “No,” Asha said. “The children are. And you too, old man. We need your wisdom.”

  Leahy’s flexpad buzzed. She checked it. “Turcotte has landed topside. I need to go with him.”

  “Will you return?” Asha asked, reaching out, taking Leahy’s hands in her own.

  “That is part of the uncertainty,” Leahy said.

  Asha squeezed Leahy’s hands. “Then I will not say goodbye. Until we meet again.”

  “Take care of our children,” Leahy said.

  *****

  Topside, Turcotte stood on top of the Fynbar looking up at the Battle Core. It was beyond the orbit of the moon, but appeared as large as a full moon. Nyx was on one side, Yakov on the other. Labby was sitting in front of them.

  “This is not good,” Yakov said.

  “I have seen images,” Nyx said. “But nothing can prepare one for the real thing.”

  “That’s a universal truth,” Turcotte said. “You were right, Nyx. I don’t believe anything can stop it.”

  “Thank you, Major,” Nyx said. “And thank you for using my name. I-“

  A voice caused all of them to turn.

  “Who is that? Why do you have an Airlia with you?” Leahy was striding toward them; a dark opening that had not been there a minute earlier was behind her.

  “She saved our ass on Mars,” Turcotte said. “Nyx, meet Leahy. Leahy, Nyx. And this is Labby.”

  Leahy stopped short of the Fynbar. “This is most unusual. Not part of my Strategy.”

  “What’s in there?” Turcotte asked, pointing at the opening.

  “Nothing of importance,” Leahy said. She indicated a small pile of gear, including the Tesla computer. “We need to load that. And,” she pointed at a Tesla cannon, “that has been specifically designed to be mounted on your ship, Major Turcotte. You will find it useful. Then we visit Area 51.”

  “It’s gonna be more than a visit,” Turcotte promised.

  NEVADA TEST SITE

  “What is that?” Colonel Rennie asked as the pod came gliding in overhead, heading for Area 51.

  “The ruby sphere to power the mothership,” Mickell said. They were outside the mineshaft, binoculars to their eyes.

  Rennie lowered his glasses. “So it is time?”

  “Yes.”

  Rennie sighed. “You know of course that—“

  Mickell cut him off. “I know.”

  Rennie went down a few steps and raised his voice. “Gear up, mates. Time to dance with the devil.”

  BETTER ANGELS OF OUR NATURE

  EARTH

  If anyone happened to be monitoring air traffic control in the southwest United States, they would have noted something extraordinary. Except that extraordinary only would have applied in normal times and times were anything but that with the alien spaceship approaching. Thus it was barely noticed.

  Fourteen planes registered to Perdix, all heading toward Area 51, disappeared. They were on the screen one second; gone the next. They were carrying the families of the Mentors, the techs and their families from Dreamland, and key Wyrddin personnel who’d been promised salvation. These were the people who’d been essential to the establishment, preparation and initiation of the Strategy.

  But they’d never understood one simple fact.

  They were not essential to the implementation.

  AREA 51

  Smoke drifted above the pod, the heat tiles on the outer hull releasing the burn of reentry. A heavy lift crane was crunching toward it, treads tearing up runway tarmac. A half mile away, the opening to Hangar Two revealed the mothership resting in its cradle. It was loaded, ready. All except one hatch, which led to the center of the FTLT drive. Where an empty space waited for the ruby sphere. The opening in the closest leg of the cradle contained the elevator to a personnel airlock in the mothership. The gash in the side of the mothership was sealed.

  Mrs. Parrish stood outside of Hangar Two, Maria and George in attendance.

  Parrish tapped her flexpad with supreme irritation. “Major Turcotte. You are pushing this too far. Where are you?”

  Bradley Fighting vehicles held a perimeter around the pod and Hangar Two. Apache gunships flitted about, guarding the air perimeter. Scores of mercenaries on foot were closer in, weapons at the ready.

  There was no response to Parrish’s call.

  “Ma’am,” Maria said. “Outer security reports Route 375 is packed with vehicles. They’re halting them at the gates. A rumor has spread about the mothership. That it is the only way to survive. Most likely started by the truckers we flew back to Las Vegas.”

  “Should have killed all of them,” Parrish said. “That was an oversight.”

  “There are multiple aircraft heading this direction,” Maria added. “Most likely privately owned.”

  “Order the security on the east to hold those roads,” Parrish ordered. “And air defense is free to fire at any inbound aircraft except the Fynbar. Whenever Turcotte decides its time to make his appearance.” She hit the flexpad. “Turcotte. You will run out of time. Both you and your friends.”

  *****

  Colonel Mickell was in the passenger seat of the humvee, while Rennie manned the gun turret, his hands resting lightly on the dual grips of the M2 fifty caliber machine gun. Behind them were the rest of the vehicles in the company. They were following the same dirt road via which they’d escaped Area 51.

  Rennie didn’t halt as his vehicle crested the ridge, and Hangar Two, came into view. He noted the Apaches, the fighting vehicles, the pod.

  “Faster,” he ordered his driver.

  *****

  The crane reached the pod. Near the front of the bay was the crew compartment where the men sent to Mars had ridden in. It was blackened and burned from reentry.

  The ruby sphere was secure in its cradle. Men clambered on board, cutting the tie downs, leaving the steel mesh in place. The crane operator brought the hook down and they attached it to the mesh.

  The ruby sphere was lifted clear.

  Slowly, carefully, the crane turned and trundled toward the mothership.

  *****

  “Hello, Mrs. Parrish.” Turcotte’s face was in the screen, back-dropped by the interior of the Fynbar, where Leahy and Nyx were visible.

  “You are making this very difficult,” Mrs. Parrish said.

  “Not really,” Turcotte said.

  Mrs. Parrish ignored the distractions. “Let me be plain. You want to live. I want the regeneration tube and the body in it. An easy exchange. A life for a life.”

  “Just my life?” Turcotte asked.

  “Yakov is acceptable,” Parrish said.

  Tur
cotte indicated the two behind him. “And my friends?”

  “You have poor choice in friends,” Parrish said. “You must have learned by now that Leahy can’t be trusted. I told you that. And—“ she sputtered, not sure what to say. “An Airlia? They are our enemy. Should have left it on Mars.”

  “No negotiation on that?” Turcotte asked. “Really? Just two more spots on such a big spaceship? You’re going to blow up this negotiation over that?”

  Mrs. Parrish snorted in disgust. The crane was going by, entering Hangar Two.

  “Fine. Your so-called friends too. Where are you? Time is short.”

  “I’m here,” Turcotte said.

  ******

  “Firing,” Yakov said.

  The plasma stream from the Tesla cannon was continuous as Yakov arced it from the first Apache he’d targeted through four more, before the power ceased.

  “How long does it take to charge?” Yakov asked Leahy.

  The Fynbar was hovering above Area 51, northeast of Hangar Two, directly over the long runway.

  Before Leahy could answer, Yakov’s flexpad flashed green and he centered the reticule on another Apache that was accelerating away. He fired short, fast bursts, taking out the last three. The screen was still green.

  “This is working very well,” Yakov said.

  “A Russian compliment,” Leahy said. “Thank you.”

  Yakov shifted to the Bradley fighting vehicles.

  ******

  “What the hell are you doing?” Parrish screamed.

  “For some odd reason,” Turcotte replied, “I don’t trust you. Just making sure the deal goes through as we’ve agreed.”

  Maria spoke: “Air defense requests permission to fire on the Fynbar.”

  “Negative!” Parrish yelled at her. “Negative!”

  *****

  “Attack formation,” Rennie ordered his company as the debris of the last Apache fell out of the sky ahead of them.

  His motley collection of humvees and pickup trucks spread out on line.

  ******

  The Bradley fighting vehicles were easier for Yakov to pick off. He was getting the hang of the Tesla cannon.

  *****

  “You are such a child,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Fine. I will keep my word.”

  “Still don’t believe you,” Turcotte said.

  Parrish muted the flexpad. “Inside the Hangar,” she ordered the commander of the surviving mercenaries. “Ambush them as we enter.”

  *****

  The airlock on the crew compartment inside the pod opened. The merc commander exited with his surviving men. They’d shed their useless TASC-suits but had their MK-98s in hand. They climbed out of the pod and headed for the Hangar.

  They were joined by Colonel Rennie’s vehicles, forming a tight perimeter around the opening to the Hangar.

  And Mrs. Parrish.

  Just behind that perimeter, the Fynbar landed. The hatch opened and Turcotte exited.

  Turcotte walked forward, past the betrayed mercenaries and New Zealand peacekeepers. He stopped in front of Mrs. Parrish.

  “Impressive,” the old woman said. “Very impressive.”

  “Tell your gunmen inside the Hangar to drop their weapons and come out.”

  “Give me the regeneration tube.”

  They both turned and watched as an antiaircraft missile was launched from one of the batteries on Groom Mountain. It hit an inbound Lear Jet that was lined up to land on the runway. The jet disintegrated.

  “We don’t have much time,” Mrs. Parrish said. “My outer security won’t be able to hold the mobs at the gates. There are tens of thousands of people trying to get in here.”

  “We saw them on the way in,” Turcotte said. “Tell your men to put their weapons down.” He indicated the force behind him. “We will fight our way in if we have to. And you will never get the regeneration tube.”

  A muscle twitched on Parrish’s cheek. “Do it, Maria.”

  Her assistant relayed the order. The men seemed relieved to give up, some of them recognizing their comrades among the attackers. The crane was backing away from the mothership. The ruby sphere was in place.

  A voice came out of Mrs. Parrish’s flexpad. “Ma’am? Are you loading? We’ve initiated the power up for the sphere. But we’re having some problems closing the hatch.”

  Parrish muted her flexpad. “I always believed you were a man of your word, Major Turcotte. I will honor my deal. Will you honor yours?”

  “Of course,” Turcotte said. He indicated the Fynbar. “You can have the regeneration tube. See?”

  Yakov, Nyx and Leahy were dragging the tube out of a maintenance hatch on the side of the spacecraft.

  “We checked,” Turcotte said. “It will work. Its power unit is charged.”

  “We’ll load it,” Mrs. Parrish said.

  “Really?” Turcotte replied.

  Another ground-to-air missile launched, destroying an incoming jet.

  Her flexpad vibrated.

  “Gonna take that?” Turcotte asked.

  “No,” Parrish said.

  Maria spoke. “Ma’am, the outer perimeter has been breached. Some of the security forces have joined the mob.”

  Another missile was fired. Another plane destroyed.

  Mrs. Parrish screamed at several of her unarmed mercenaries. “Bring that tube into the hangar and into the ship!”

  The men hesitated, but Turcotte waved, indicating they could do so.

  As they ran over and began to manhandle the tube, Yakov, Leahy, Nyx and Labby joined him, facing Parrish. Colonels Mickell and Rennie also came up, along with the commander of the mercenary force.

  Leahy spoke first. “Are you completely loaded?

  Parrish pointed at the regeneration tube. “With that on board we will be.”

  “And our people,” Turcotte said, indicating the others standing with him. “And their soldiers.”

  “There is a limit—“ Mrs. Parrish began, but Leahy cut her off.

  “We can make it work.”

  Nyx’s singsong voice interrupted. “I am sorry to intrude. But are you aware of how long it takes to power up the mothership?”

  Everyone turned to her.

  Turcotte said: “We can at least get out of here before the mobs get us. Use the magnetic or gravity drive to get off the planet and start moving away.”

  Nyx shook her head. “You cannot do that now. All drives, FTLT and STL, will be offline while the ruby sphere boots the FTLT system. You cannot engage STL at the same time. A safety precaution. I lived next to a space field for many years.”

  Mrs. Parrish hit the screen of her flexpad. “Julius. Test the magnetic drive.”

  “We can’t close the hatch for the ruby sphere,” Julius replies. “The controls won’t respond.”

  “The hatch will not close,” Nyx said, “until the entire system comes back on line. Ruby sphere refuels are significant maintenance events and occur rarely. They always take place at a space field. On the ground.”

  “How long does it take to power up?” Turcotte said. “How long until we can get out of here?” His question was punctuated by another ground-to-air missile blasting an incoming plane.

  “I do not know,” Nyx said. “I understand some of the engineering from listening to techs. I have watched motherships repowered on the ground with fresh ruby spheres. But it is not my area. I am an astrobiologist as I explained.”

  Yakov cursed in Russian.

  Mickell pointed at the ship. “You all load up and shut the ship. The mob can’t get to you.”

  Leahy indicated the open hatch. “She just told us that won’t shut. What if they attack that?”

  “We need a perimeter,” Turcotte said. He faced Mickell and Rennie and the merc commander. “Can you coordinate that?”

  The three men were soldiers, used to quick, hard decisions.

  Rennie answered. “We’ll do it, mate.”

  Rennie and the merc commander ran toward their men, yelling
orders.

  “Look,” Leahy said. There were dust clouds in the distance. “We don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll take the Fynbar up and provide support,” Turcotte said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to kill innocent people.”

  “You have no choice,” Leahy said. “The future of mankind is in there.”

  Maria spoke up. “We have reports of people coming across the Nevada Test site in their vehicles. From all directions. They are desperate.”

  Mrs. Parrish was watching the regeneration tube being slid into the elevator in the strut. The door shut, indicating the elevator was going to the airlock. “The rest of us should get inside.”

  Turcotte turned to Nyx and Leahy. “Go with her. Leahy, stay on top of her. Nyx, get to the bridge. You probably know more than Julius.” He pointed at Yakov. “You go with Nyx. You’ve flown this thing before. I want you at the controls once it can fly.”

  “My friend—“ Yakov began.

  “Go!” Turcotte yelled.

  EARTH ORBIT

  The Battle Core settled into high orbit, 20,000 miles from the planet’s surface. Its trajectory was opposite the planet’s rotation. There was a reason for that, as there was for every thing the Swarm did.

  Weapons systems were powered up.

  The Metamorphosis was complete and the results were walking, crawling, swimming, slithering and winging their way to designated warships for the pending drop on the planet.

  It was all standing operating procedure for a reaping.

  As the Core circled the planet, it began targeting procedures.

  RAVEN ROCK, PENNSYLVANIA

  “Too high,” Marshal Krasmav complained to General Clark, his voice crackling from static. “My missiles do not have the range. And unless my intelligence services have been greatly mistaken all these years, neither do yours.”