Conspiracy Unleashed

by L. Danvers

  Cal scrambled out of her room, down the curved hallway and through the gold screen to the main cabin. She hurried to her seat. Commander Ahmadi and Flynn were in position in front of the control panel, and Britt and Sam marched inside as Cal was fastening her seatbelt.

  “We’re getting close,” Commander Ahmadi said. “Prepare for landing.”

  Sam furrowed his brow. He eyed the frozen planet through the cracked main cabin window. “Commander,” Sam said. His tone was unnaturally low. “This doesn't look right. What planet is this?”

  Flynn checked the coordinates against the list of planetary names. “Duratus-QF3752.”

  “Those aren't the coordinates I gave you,” Sam said. He pulled up the series of numbers on his control panel. “Look, you got the last digit wrong. We're supposed to be going to Duratus-QF3757.”

  “You called it out wrong.”

  “It does not matter,” Commander Ahmadi interjected. “We are here, are we not? It is in the habitable zone, and it has piqued my curiosity. I say we check it out.”

  “But we're not supposed to be here,” Sam urged. His jaw was set, and his fists were curled tight around his armrest.

  “I do not want to hear any more,” Commander Ahmadi said. “It has been decided. I am the commander of this ship, and I say we are going.”

  Sam stared at the icy planet, not blinking. Cal couldn't figure out why he was so upset. They were explorers.

  “Sam,” she whispered. He didn't turn to look at her, but she was sure he had heard her. She wondered if he was mad at her. He had acted fine at breakfast. Why was he ignoring her?

  Commander Ahmadi continued to navigate the Stellix toward the small blue planet. Through the scratched window, they saw snowy mountain ranges and long stretches of ice-covered lakes. They were a darker teal than the surrounding areas. Commander Ahmadi steered, trying to find the perfect place to land.

  “Look. Over there,” Flynn said, pointing to the bottom right corner of the window.

  “What is it?” Britt asked. “I don't see anything.”

  “Me neither,” Cal said.

  “That is peculiar,” Commander Ahmadi said, thinking aloud.

  “What is?” Britt asked.

  “Do you see those gray specks over there? In the corner?” Commander Ahmadi said. “They look like buildings.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Cal kept her eyes on Sam, who was growing tenser by the second. He wasn’t moving. His focus remained on the planet. When he spoke, there was a tightness to his voice. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “We should investigate,” Commander Ahmadi said in reply. He steered the ship toward the mysterious gray buildings and landed the Stellix. The five of them put on special gear they found in the storage closet to keep warm. Commander Ahmadi, Flynn, Britt and Cal talked about what they might find. But not Sam. He wasn’t speaking to anyone. He wasn’t looking at anyone.

  They followed the commander to the hatch door and proceeded down the unfolding ramp. The bitter cold stung their cheeks.

  Cal had a hard time keeping her footing. The ice-covered ground beneath them was slick and unforgiving. She and Britt linked their arms as they walked, partially to try to keep from slipping and partially to keep warm.

  The Stellix wasn't docked that far away from the rows of cement buildings, but crossing over ice through frigid air made the trek feel much longer.

  Clouds rolled overhead, blocking any hope of heat from the distant sun.

  They drew nearer to the buildings. There was not a single window on any of them. From the outside, there was no way to know what was housed within.

  When they reached the front of one of them, they came upon a circular concrete door. It bore an intricate design depicting three smaller circles—moons, Cal figured, based on the crater-like indentations. A chunk was missing from the one in the middle.

  She stared in awe, wondering what kind of beings could have built a structure which looked, to her, like those built by man. She took a step back to take it in, and when she did, something to the side of the door caught her attention.

  Terror overtook her face.

  Certain it couldn’t be what it looked like, she inched closer, squeezing her eyes shut and opening them again, trying to make sure they weren’t deceiving her.

  A chill ran down her spine, but it wasn’t from the biting cold of Duratus.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  The others followed her line of vision. There it was. A credittat scanner.

  A gasp escaped Britt’s mouth, and the vapors of her warm breath lingered there.

  Cal’s hands trembled as she stepped forward. She pulled back her sleeve, leaving her skin exposed to the unforgiving cold. She raised her arm so that her tattoo was in line with the scanner.

  “Access denied,” a robotic, pre-recorded voice said through a tiny speaker.

  “I don’t understand,” Cal said, pulling her sleeve down as she turned to face the others. “What could a credittat scanner be doing here?”

  She looked to Commander Ahmadi, whose forehead bore deep creases. Flynn stood beside her, his eyes darting back and forth between the scanner and circular door, trying to figure it out. Britt was there, too, shivering as she batted her lashes, her chocolatey eyes glossy from the cutting cold. Sam stood a few feet to the side of them, his arms crossed over his chest, the veins protruding from his neck.

  “There is one way to find out,” Commander Ahmadi said. He pulled back his sleeve and raised his wrist to the scanner. Once again, the recorded voice denied access to the building.

  “This isn't working,” Sam said.

  “What is your problem, Decker?” Commander Ahmadi snapped. “You have been acting weird the entire day. If I did not know better, I would say you are afraid of something. Is that it? Are you scared?”

  “No.”

  “Then you try,” he ordered in a tone that dared Sam not to obey. “Go on. Scan your credittat. See if you can open it.”

  Sam didn't budge. His grip tightened on his folded arms.

  “I gave you an order, Decker.”

  Sam didn’t blink.

  Commander Ahmadi drew his pulse-r from his utility belt and leveled it at him.

  “What are you doing?” Britt yelled.

  “Do it!” he shouted at Sam. “Now, or I swear I will shoot.”

  Sam gulped. He looked to the ground as he stepped forward, but something told Cal it wasn’t for fear of slipping. She inched closer toward him and called out his name, but he wouldn’t look at her.

  As if in a trance, moving in slow motion, he edged toward the credittat scanner. He pulled back his sleeve and revealed his tattoo.

  “Access granted,” the recording said.

  And with that, the heavy concrete door rolled open.

  “Who are you?” Commander Ahmadi asked, his index finger pressed against the trigger of the pulse-r.

  “Put down the gun, Commander,” Sam said. “I can explain.”

  Commander Ahmadi didn't lower his gun.

  Cal stood there, unsure of what to do. Part of her wanted to defend Sam, and the other part of her was furious with him. Her head ached from the thousands of questions piling up in her mind. Who was this person she had grown so close to? What secrets was he hiding from her? From everyone?

  Flynn lunged toward Sam and pinned him against the concrete wall. What was he thinking? Cal was afraid to watch. Sam could snap him like a twig.

  But he didn’t. He didn't try to defend himself.

  “O’Boyle, let him go,” Commander Ahmadi said.

  Flynn backed away, his mouth set in a hard line, keeping his gaze planted on Sam with each step he took.

  Cal hadn’t seen this side of Flynn before. His rage made her uneasy. Not because he was wrong to be upset, but because it was so out of character for him.

  She was confused. She was torn between taking his side and being there for her boyfriend—or whatever Sam was to her. A part of her heart a
ched for Sam, standing against the wall, his face sunken. But another part of her, her more rational part, knew something was wrong and that Flynn was justified in his anger.

  She made her choice. With a heavy breath, she stood beside Flynn and gripped her hand tight around his arm. He went still, and for a fleeting moment, his focus was torn from Sam and fell on her.

  “Start talking,” Commander Ahmadi said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I’ll tell you everything I know. You have my word.”

  “You realize your word does not mean much to us right now, Decker?”

  “I know. Follow me.”

  And they did. The commander’s pulse-r remained aimed at Sam’s back as they entered the concrete building. The room was as dark as the depths of space. The only sources of light were the gentle blue glow of their wristbands. Every hair on Cal’s body stood on end, the eerie feeling she had only magnified by the rapid beating of her heart.

  Sam fumbled his way through the darkness and flipped on a switch. Row after row of overhead lights flickered on, bringing what the building kept hidden to light.

  Capsules were propped up in long, neat rows. Sam stood in silence while the rest of the crew fanned out, each to get a good look for themselves at what was housed inside.

  Cal swallowed a lump in her throat, and she crept toward the nearest capsule. Upon reaching it, she saw it was covered in brownish-gray flecks of dust. She rubbed the front of the capsule, which had the smooth feel of glass, with the sleeve of her coat, making a circular motion with the grime until what was underneath could be seen.

  She felt the color drain from her face as she stared into the face of another. It was a person, frosted and blue, suspended in a glass capsule. Frozen in time.

  Cal heard a gasp from Britt and the thuds of Commander Ahmadi’s feet as he marched over and demanded an explanation from Sam.

  “Our mission isn’t what you thought it was.”

  “What is that supposed to mean, Decker?”

  “A secret branch of NASA? Run out of an estate? Come on. No, the vice president funded this entire mission himself. This was to satiate his own curiosity. The president knew nothing about it, as far as Pierce knew.”

  “So Vice President Pierce is behind this?” Commander Ahmadi said, his voice low and purposeful as he motioned toward the capsules. “That is why there was a credittat scanner out front?”

  “No, he knows nothing about this place.”

  “But you do,” Flynn said.

  Sam looked at his feet and cleared his throat while thinking of the right words to say. After a long pause, he lifted his chin and said, “I haven’t been honest about who I am.”

  “No kidding,” Britt grunted.

  “I work for the CIA. I was assigned to go undercover and infiltrate this operation to prevent, er, to prevent this. To keep you from finding out what was going on. I was instructed to kill each of you should you discover the truth. But, I couldn’t do—”

  “And what is the truth, Decker?”

  Cal’s nerves were shot. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.

  “This is part of a top-secret government program,” Sam said, leading the others down one of the aisles. He brushed the dust off of the next capsule they came upon, revealing the frosted face of a man who couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. Cal noticed a plaque at the top of the glass capsule. It read:

  Jonathan Beauregard Jordan

  29 years old

  Astrophysicist

  Houston, Texas

  “This is our chance to preserve the human race,” Sam said. “Don’t worry—he’s not dead. None of them is. They’re just frozen.”

  “Just frozen?” Flynn snapped. “What the hell are you talking about? Who did this?”

  “It started after Douglass’s first term. He cut a deal with the leader of an alien race—Caelifera, queen of the Creatians. She gave him a choice. He could provide specimens for her to study—”

  “People, Sam,” Britt said. “They’re people.”

  “You’re right. People. Provide people for her to study, or she would take people herself and obliterate the rest of the human race. She said she was looking for a cure. Something she hoped to find in the human genetic code. So he agreed to deliver people to her. He had help, of course, but for the most part, as far as anyone on Earth knew, these people, I dunno, disappeared.”

  Disappeared. The word echoed in her mind. Cal rested her back against one of the capsules for fear she was going to faint. Her thoughts raced at a dizzying speed. It hit her at once. The story she’d chased for so long, the many questions left unanswered—this was the answer. Her instincts had been right. The disappearances were connected, but in a way she couldn’t have imagined. These innocent people had been kidnapped by the U.S. government and shipped off to be tested, then fated to an eternal frozen slumber.

  A warm touch brushed against her arm. It was Flynn, offering her support as she had done for him what felt like forever ago, though mere minutes had passed. He put the pieces together, too. While Cal struggled to verbalize her many questions, Flynn came up with one of his own.

  “What about the victims’ families? They were left to wonder what happened to their loved ones.”

  Sam shrugged. “Some cases stayed open, others were staged as deaths.”

  “Staged?” Britt asked, her hands planted firm on her hips. “How could they be staged as deaths if the bodies weren’t found?”

  Cal suspected she knew the answer, but Sam spoke before she could find the words.

  “Funeral home directors would do favors for the president. From what I understand, they had no idea what they were a part of. They heard the president wanted something done, and they did it.”

  “That’s crazy,” Flynn said. “Who would do something without question because the president asked them to?”

  “We did,” Cal said coolly. The others turned to face her. “With Pierce, I mean. We gave up everything we knew, risked our lives, to come here because the vice president asked us to. Why were we sent on this mission if he knew nothing about this place?”

  Sam continued walking along one of the aisles, passing so many capsules that Cal lost count. She and the others followed him. She read the plaques as they walked past, and one of the names caught her attention. Damon Cantrel. Her eyes flooded with tears. She remembered speaking to his sister on the phone back in the newsroom. She remembered how Blair’s voice shook as she talked about him. How could Cal explain what happened to him? Blair would think she’d gone mad.

  “President Douglass thought Pierce overheard a discussion between him and Caelifera,” Sam continued, combing his fingers through his hair as he spoke. “Pierce questioned him about it, and Douglass told him not to speak of it again. Pierce didn’t know any of the details, of course. But the president was worried Pierce would try to get to the bottom of it and reveal his secret to the public, which is why I was planted as a recruit.”

  “You knew the entire time.” Cal shook her head in disgust. Sam walked closer to her and lifted her chin with his fingertips, but she jerked her head away, refusing to look at him.

  “You weren’t supposed to find out,” Sam said. “We weren’t supposed to come here. It wasn’t on the list.”

  “And that makes it okay?” Cal snapped. “You lied to me. You lied to all of us.”

  “I know,” he said. “I know. But I’ll make it up to you. I swear. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’m on your side. Ask me anything. Anything.”

  Britt gave Sam a piercing stare. Cal couldn’t have been more surprised if steam started pouring from her ears. Britt was fuming. “Why are these people being kept here? If Caelifera was done with them, why not return them to Earth?”

  “Because that would be hard to explain. Think about it. People would be disappearing and magically returning later. It wouldn’t be long before abduction theories would begin to circulate. So President Douglass and Caelife
ra agreed to store them here. Here, they and their genes could be preserved for prosperity.”

  Cal felt hot. The stale stench in here was getting to her.

  She needed to get away from Sam. Get away from the others. She needed time alone.

  Without saying a word, she started wandering down the aisle. She heard footsteps follow after, but she held up her hand for them to stop.

  Her heart broke for the families of these poor people she passed as she walked along another row. These were victims of the U.S. government.

  Antoinette Alexandra Peterson

  32 years old

  College Professor

  Ann Arbor, Michigan

  Antoinette looked so helpless suspended in the glass capsule. There had to be something they could do to help save her. There had to be some way to get these people out and return them home to their families.

  Cal turned down another aisle and read the names of each plaque she passed. Tyra Penelope Smith, Edward Martin Cunningham, Mila Sofia Jiminez, Quinton Jamal Andrews, Quinn Isabella Cameron, and...

  Wait.

  Cal looked at the name on the plaque she had passed.

  Quinn Isabella Cameron

  27 years old

  Analyst

  Washington, D.C.

  A piercing scream escaped her lips, and there was a rush of footsteps against the cool concrete as the others hurried to catch up with her.

  “Cal!” Flynn shouted. “Are you okay?”

  She wasn’t. When the others found her, she was limp on the floor. She had passed out. Britt tended to her while the rest of them looked around to see why she had screamed.

  Flynn saw it. Saw her. It was Quinn.

  He punched Sam square in the mouth. Blood oozed from Sam’s lip.

  “What the hell?” Sam yelled.

  Cal came back to consciousness. Britt pleaded with her to take it easy, but Cal wouldn’t hear it. She was livid. She was ready to explode.

  She burst into tears and pounded her fists against Sam’s chest.

  “What did you do to my sister?” she screamed.