The Zeta Grey War: The Event

by D F Capps

  Kaplan grinned. This would actually fit quite nicely into his plans for the new interceptor missiles and Russia. He typed his suggestion into the USAP317 connection and waited. From his past experience, approval of his plan wouldn’t take long.

  Thirty-five seconds later the official approval arrived. He knew just the person for the job.

  Chapter 21

  Charlie waited for the soldier to remove the helmet from the hubrid shackled to the interrogation table. The hubrid quickly tried to take control of his mind. Charlie waited calmly for the hubrid to realize it wasn’t working.

  You have a name? Charlie asked telepathically.

  Brian, the hubrid answered cautiously.

  That at least tallied with the name on the driver’s license and the social security number. There was no Zeta Grey brain implant, so whatever the hubrids learned was a combination of traditional learning and question cascades, not a computer download. That put them on an almost even footing with him, except for the advanced training Charlie received from his Tau Cetian father.

  Why have you been placed into the human population? Charlie asked.

  Brian stiffened, trying to block Charlie from reading his thoughts.

  Not bad, Charlie thought. I understand why you don’t want to cooperate. You don’t have to, you know. You don’t have to communicate with any of us. I’m just trying to give you a chance.

  Brian looked confused. A chance? For what?

  Oh, don’t worry about it. Some of the other hubrids will let us know what you’re doing here. I just thought you’d like to avoid what the humans do with aliens.

  Prison? Brian replied. I’m not afraid of prison. A smirk appeared on his face.

  No, Charlie thought, with a smile. They’re not going to put you in prison. That’s for other humans. They don’t do that to aliens.

  Brian frowned. So what do humans do with aliens?

  They dissect them, like this. Charlie reviewed the autopsy of the Zeta Grey he witnessed at Ceti Research in his mind so Brian would telepathically receive the images. Humans are curious. They’re going to want to take a look at everything inside of you. It’s how they learn about aliens.

  Charlie sensed the increase of adrenaline and the rapid breathing rate in Brian. If you can provide something of real interest to the humans, they may not be so curious about what’s inside of you. It’s all up to you. I just wouldn’t wait very long. As I said, humans are curious. They’re not going to wait around.

  I’m not an alien! Brian mentally shouted. I’m just like one of them!

  Charlie shook his head. The fact that you are communicating telepathically with me demonstrates that you are not like the humans. You’re an alien.

  Brian glanced around the room in a panic then focused on Charlie. You have to be an alien, you’re telepathic.

  Charlie smiled. The difference is I’m helping them. You’re not. If you want a better deal than dissection, you have to help them, too.

  Would they kill me humanely before dissection?

  Charlie smiled, shrugged, got up, and turned to the door.

  Wait! Don’t leave! What do you want to know?

  Charlie turned around. Why have you been placed into the human population?

  The Event, Brian admitted.

  Exactly what is this Event?

  I don’t know. We are being trained to influence people, to keep them from panicking, to keep them under control.

  For what?

  Brian looked down at the table. They didn’t explain the whole thing to me. Just what my part was supposed to be.

  Okay, Charlie thought. When is this Event supposed to happen?

  Brian shook his head. I don’t know.

  Soon? Charlie asked.

  Brian shrugged.

  Next year? Ten years from now?

  Next year, Brian admitted. Maybe sooner.

  So what is it? Charlie demanded. Next year, or sooner?

  Brian looked up at him. Sooner.

  Six months?

  Brian shook his head. I don’t know! It’s going to be whenever they tell me it is. I don’t know!

  Charlie nodded. So probably within six months?

  Probably, Brian answered.

  How many hubrids are there on the planet?

  Brain glanced around the room again. I have no idea.

  In the country?

  Brian shook his head again, and looked down at the floor.

  Okay. Charlie turned to the door again.

  Don’t let them do that to me. Please!

  Charlie turned to face Brian. They’re going to want more, otherwise. Charlie made snipping signs with his fingers. Humans are really curious. Think about what more you can tell them. Seriously. He turned and left.

  * * *

  “So what’d you learn?” McHenry asked.

  “The Zeta Greys have a plan called ‘the Event,’ ” Charlie said. “The plan is compartmentalized, so the hubrids don’t know exactly what’s going on, or when, but it looks like something big is going to happen within six months.”

  McHenry leaned forward. “Local, national, or global?”

  Charlie grimaced. “Probably global in nature.”

  McHenry sighed. “That’s not enough time to prepare. Any idea what’s going to happen?”

  Charlie shrugged. “The hubrids, and probably the hybrids, will be involved in crowd mind control—keeping people from panicking, keeping them calm.”

  “Or defiantly demonstrating as they did in Sweetwater,” McHenry said.

  Charlie nodded.

  McHenry leaned back in his chair. “So something is going to happen that would panic people and they want to maintain control. That’s interesting. Chaos is a valuable military tactic in certain situations. But they need to maintain control, which means they have a specific outcome in mind that’s not a natural reaction from people. Perception and people’s emotions have to be manipulated to get the outcome they want.”

  “And this helps us how?” Charlie asked.

  “It tells us a lot about what they don’t want,” McHenry said. “They don’t want conflict or open aggression. They need cooperation, or at least a specific controlled response.”

  “That agrees with what I picked up from Brian,” Charlie said. “The hubrids didn’t grow up here. They’re unaccustomed to dealing with conflict. They’re also way too dependent on their telepathic abilities. They come on strong as long as they think they have the advantage, but they have no backbone. As soon as they lose their telepathic advantage, they fold.”

  McHenry smiled. “Courage is born out of challenges and hardships. They’re soft. Not ready for battle.”

  “Which means what?”

  “We take the battle to them.”

  Chapter 22

  “This is a logistical nightmare,” McHenry said. “Because the Zetas are so mobile, it’s worse than dealing with guerilla forces. We don’t have the resources to occupy the underground alien bases and prevent the Zetas from taking everything back. Even if we destroy the tunnels, they’ll just dig new ones and retake the bases.”

  Colonel Novak paced around the room. “Well, there’s the Sherman approach.”

  McHenry nodded. “General Sherman’s march to the sea during the Civil War. Destroy as we go, so there’s nothing to reclaim.”

  “Yes. But what if we use something much older?” Commander Pedder said. “What if we poison the well?”

  McHenry looked up at him with a frown on his face.

  “We know iodine is poison to them on contact, but essentially harmless to humans. What if we spray everything with iodine?” Pedder asked.

  “Wouldn’t they just wear a protective suit? It’s what we would do,” McHenry replied.

  Novak shrugged. “Maybe. Every report I’ve seen describes them as not having any clothes at all. What if they don’t have any protective suits?”

  “Interesting,” McHenry said. He rubbed his hand across his chin. “With the planetary shield in place, they’
d have to make do with what they have here.”

  “Or someone who lives here would have to make the suits and get them into the underground bases,” Pedder said.

  “Or undersea bases,” McHenry added.

  Novak furrowed his brow.

  McHenry picked up two folders, handed one to Novak, and the other to Pedder. “Latest recon from the NRO, plus some classified documents from the navy. Apparently flying saucers have been coming up out of the oceans since the end of World War II. You’ll find Admiral Byrd’s classified report on Operation Highjump from his mission to Antarctica in 1947. In addition to UFOs, we also have USOs, unidentified submerged objects. Every day I get up, I find out we’re even farther behind than I thought.”

  Novak and Pedder studied the documents for a few minutes.

  Pedder spoke first. “We can’t use a nuke on an alien base under a city, but we certainly can on one under the ocean, especially at the depth indicated here. The detonation would show up as an earthquake and generate a small tsunami, but all of that wouldn’t cause any real damage to coastal cities. It’s doable.”

  “I’ll talk to Hollis,” McHenry said. “Meanwhile, see how much iodine we can get our hands on and ramp up production from the manufacturers. We’re going to need a small ocean of the stuff.”

  * * *

  Wilber Jared was led into Senator Stevens’s office.

  “To what do I own the honor?” Stevens asked.

  Jared showed him the sheet regarding the electrical generator tests he got from President Andrews.

  Stevens sat and read for a minute. “Look, from the legislative side there’s not much I can do on this. I can recommend certain restrictions, but we’re talking months of—”

  “No,” Jared said forcefully. “I didn’t come here for the political dance. We gave you a lot of money to get you reelected. That can end today, or it can double tomorrow. You know people, people with power, and influence. Make this machine go away. Permanently.

  Stevens shrugged. “Andrews is in control of this thing. I can’t—”

  “If you’re not our guy, someone else will be by the end of the day. Either you can fix this, or you’re out.”

  Stevens stared at Jared. “We’re talking the president.”

  Jared stared back at him. “Permanently. I don’t care what it takes, or what it costs. Can you fix this or not?”

  Stevens nodded slowly. “I’ll get back to you.”

  “You better,” Jared said. “I need to know I can count on you.”

  * * *

  Late that evening Senator Stevens waited for the arrival of his special guest. He peered out the front window as a black stretch limo pulled up in front of his luxury apartment. The head security guard nodded at him as he and the other guards walked away from the front door and took up a position just down the street. A tall, hooded figure with a long black cloak stepped from the limo. Her expensive high-heeled shoes glistened in the streetlights. He opened the door, glanced up and down the street, and let her in.

  His female visitor was just over six feet tall, slender, fair-skinned, and blond. She could have been quite striking except for the enlarged head and over-sized blue eyes.

  “What have you got?” she asked.

  He handed her the sheet of paper he received from Wilber Jared.

  She looked over the information. “Where did this come from?”

  “My constituent got it from President Andrews.”

  She looked concerned. “This level of technology is unexpected. It represents a real danger to us.”

  He nodded. “That’s why I asked for the meeting tonight.”

  “You did well,” she replied. She stared at the sheet for a moment and closed her eyes.

  He could sense the telepathic connection she made with a Zeta Grey saucer in the distance. Within a matter of a few seconds, Rosaq, the Zeta Grey commander of the Earth Acquisition Force, would know the contents of the paper.

  She opened her eyes. “You are going to be a part of resolving this issue. We need your level of access.”

  He bowed his head. “Whatever you need, I will do.”

  Chapter 23

  Communications officer Lieutenant Perkins rushed into the command center of the nuclear powered fast attack submarine, U.S.S. St. Louis, and handed Captain Jenkins the new tasking order. The communication was direct from President Andrews, authorizing the use of nuclear weapons. He studied it for a moment, then looked at the tactical screen.

  “XO, bring us around to a course of one-two-zero degrees, flank speed, and make our depth fifteen hundred feet.”

  “Aye-aye, sir. Bearing one-two-zero, flank speed, depth fifteen hundred feet.”

  “Once that’s done, join me in my cabin,” Jenkins said.

  As soon as they reached fifteen hundred feet, Lieutenant Commander Bergen placed the officer of the deck in charge of the command center and walked through the narrow passageway to the captain’s cabin.

  Captain Jenkins punched the combination code on the tasking order into the touch pad of the safe, and pulled the key from around his neck. Bergen stepped forward and entered his code. Both men inserted their keys into the locks and turned them at the same time.

  Jenkins extracted the laminated card from the safe and checked the authorization code against the tasking order he had just received. “Authorization codes match. We have the president’s arming codes for six nuclear torpedoes. Take this to Lieutenant Engels in the torpedo room. Get those fish loaded and ready to go.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  “Then meet me in the command center.”

  * * *

  “Make your speed twenty knots,” Captain Jenkins ordered.

  He could feel the tension in the crew. Despite hundreds of hours of practice, knowing this was real seriously changed the dynamics in the crew.

  “Twenty knots, aye-aye, sir,” answered the helmsman.

  The whole point of all the practice drills was to reduce the chance of errors being made during actual combat situations. Captain Jenkins used the 1MC communications system to coordinate the action of his crew.

  “Target is a large undersea dome, one hundred twenty miles northwest of Los Angeles. Torpedo room, con. Set torpedoes for maximum spread before converging on the target.”

  The expected response came quickly, a good sign everything was going according to plan.

  “Con, torpedo room, aye-aye. Maximum spread, then converge on the target.”

  Commander Bergen stepped closer to Jenkins. “Any idea what the target actually is?”

  Jenkins tightened his lips and shook his head. “No. But from the size and depth of that dome, I can assure you we didn’t build it, and it certainly doesn’t belong in our back yard.”

  Bergen nodded in agreement.

  “Con, sonar, range to target is twenty thousand yards and closing.”

  They were getting close.

  “Acknowledged, sonar, notify me when our range is eighteen thousand yards,” Jenkins replied.

  It was time to double check final orders.

  “Torpedo room, con, confirm that all torpedoes are set for silent running, high-speed screws five hundred yards from the target, close proximity detonation.”

  “Con, torpedo room, aye-aye, sir. All settings confirmed.”

  Jenkins’s stomach tightened as they got closer to the dome. The tension escalated in the command center as everyone waited for the final order to launch the torpedoes.

  “Con, sonar, range to target is eighteen thousand yards.”

  Jenkins nodded. It was time.

  “Acknowledged, sonar. Torpedo room, con, open outer doors.”

  He waited impatiently for the response.

  “Con, torpedo room, outer tube doors open.”

  He turned to the fire control team. “Fire torpedoes one through six.”

  The sound of torpedoes being flushed from their tubes filled the sub.

  “Torpedoes one through six away, sir. Outer torpedo tube doo
rs closed.”

  Jenkins took a deep breath. “Very well, make our heading three-zero-zero degrees, full speed, maintain depth.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” the helmsman answered.

  Captain Jenkins watched the countdown time on the main tactical screen. Just over twenty-seven minutes remained before the six torpedoes would reach their target and the nuclear detonations would vaporize the strange dome. Exactly what it was and how it got there, he’d never know. He just knew it would cease to exist in twenty-seven minutes.

  * * *

  Captain Jenkins’s heart beat in sync with the countdown timer for the six torpedoes closing in on the strange undersea dome. At slow speed the torpedoes would move silently through the water on their way to the target. At five hundred yards away they would switch to high speed screws and zoom into the dome in a matter of twenty seconds. It didn’t give the enemy much time to respond. With six torpedoes coming in from six different directions, any response wasn’t going to be effective. With three minutes left, he gripped the rail surrounding the periscope platform to keep his hands from shaking. The crew of the St. Louis had been through hundreds of dry-fire drills before, but this was the first time the torpedoes had been armed with real nuclear warheads.

  “Con, sonar, we have faint movement sounds around the target.”

  Jenkins snapped his attention to the tactical display. “Sonar, con, can you identify the sounds?”

  Any activity around the target wasn’t a good sign.

  “No, sir. It sounds like water is being rapidly displaced, but there are no screw or engine sounds.”

  Okay, he thought. So far, so good. “Any sense of position or direction?”

  “At this range, no, sir. Could be more than one source of the sound.”

  Jenkins studied the tactical screen for a moment. “Torpedoes are about three thousand yards from the target. Any signs that whatever is disturbing the water is engaging our torpedoes?”