by T. D. Kohler
He leans back in the chair and takes out and pen and notepad while watching Robert Lazar’s expression of disbelief.
“They cannot make me just disappear.” Lazar goes to stand back as the reporter holds his palm out to stop him.
“That is why we need to video record this interview,” Knapp mentions, matter of fact, as he reaches and turns on the recorder. “Perhaps we should start with your credentials. Who you are, and where do you work?”
Pursing his lips and nodding his head, Lazar pauses as he looks at the video recorder. “My name is Bob Lazar. I work, or rather worked, at an above top-secret research facility outside of Groom Lake here in Nevada.”
“What do you mean by, above top secret?”
Lazar cautiously begins to glance between George Knapp and the recorder.
“I had a Majestic Clearance, which is thirty-eight levels above the well-known top-secret level. We worked on Project Galileo at S-4 with a small division of researchers, such as myself, who held that clearance.”
“How many people worked on the project with you?”
“Twenty-two people.”
Knapp glances up from writing. “Twenty-two people on the project?”
Lazar tries to keep his excitement in check, not wanting the reporter to confuse any facts. “No, twenty-two people total that worked in S-4. This is why I am contacting you. It's just unfair, outright, not to put it in the hands of the overall scientific community. There are people much more capable of dealing with this information and by this time would have gotten a lot further along than this small, select group of people working out in the middle of the desert. They don't even have the facilities, really, to completely analyze what they're dealing with."
“Are you referring to the flying saucers?”
Lazar chuckles and says, “Getting right to it, aren’t you? Yes, the conspiracies regarding the crash in Roswell may or may not be true. What I do know to be true is the ships they do have there are not of this earth. The technologies they are reversing are taking decades to complete.”
“Can you give us an example of this technology?”
“Anti-matter reactors that allow the ships to produce their own gravitational fields. The old argument that we can never be visited by an alien race is due to the sheer distance, even at the speed of light.”
“What do you mean when you say gravitational field?”
Adjusting his glasses, Lazar straightens his back.
“Around the turn of the century, Nikolas Tesla was interviewed by the New York Times. He talks about an incident where he saw the past, present, and future at one moment . . . You see, gravity distorts time and space. Just like if you had a waterbed and you put a bowling ball in the middle. It warps it down like that; that's exactly what happens to space. Imagine that you were in a spacecraft that could exert a tremendous gravitational field by itself. You could sit on any particular place and turn on the gravity generator and actually warp space and time and fold it. By shutting that off, you'd click back, and you'd be a tremendous distance from where you were, but time would not have even moved because you essentially shut it off.”
Lazar takes a moment to catch his breath and push up his glasses.
“I mean it is so farfetched, people. It's difficult for people to grasp, and as stubborn as the scientific community is they'll never buy it, but this is, in fact, just what happens."
“Albert Einstein and Nathan Rosen theorized something along those lines. However, they theorized that the physics would make it impossible to use.” Leaning back in his chair, Knapp is proud of his burst of knowledge.
"Well, when you harness gravity, you harness everything. It's the missing piece in physics right now. We really know very little about gravity."
Taking a moment to open a water bottle and trying to register what was just said, all he can do is offer Lazar a water. “This is all interesting, but how do you suppose they, I mean these ships, are able to harness it, if you will. I mean it sounds all too fantastic to exist.”
“The technology to harness gravity not only exists, but is being tested at S-4. And, if such technology is beyond human capabilities, it must have come from someplace else.” Reaching out he accepts the water bottle. “This is more than conjecture. There is an element that cannot be found on the periodic chart. The element, called 1-1-5, it is stored in these casings, and these ships utilize this element, creating a magnetic field that is capable of creating its own gravity. The government has five-hundred pounds of it, and it cannot be made on Earth.”
Struggling to keep up, writing in his pad, Knapp raises a finger for him to hold on a second.
“There are a few elements on the periodic table that are man-made. Perhaps it is one of them and it just has not made it there as of yet.”
Lazar takes a second to sip his water. “It would be almost impossible, well, it is impossible, to synthesize an element that heavy here on Earth.”
Knapp smiles. “At least right now.”
“I don't think that you can ever synthesize it. You essentially have to assemble it by bombarding it with electrons, atom by atom, and it would take an infinite amount of power and an infinite amount of time. The substance has to come from a place where super-heavy elements could have been produced naturally.”
Writing in his pad, Knapp has a feeling of overwhelming dread wash over him. “That type of technology sounds dangerous. If that is just one type of the technology that is being worked on there . . . What if some of these technologies were to get out and into the wrong hands? How much damage could even one person be able to cause?”
Lazar leans back in his chair. “I am not saying that we should just open the gates, but we just need to let people know we are working on such things.”
Reviewing his notes, Knapp looks up and stares, concerned. “I’m for the Freedom of Information Act, but even I would be concerned if such technology fell into the wrong hands.”
2015
Concrete Bunker,
Dry Creek, LA
July 21, 0946 hours
The air conditioning has started talking its toll as Agent Abergathy keeps cupping and blowing into her hands. Standing off to the side, she watches Garrett type away on the computer and keeps an eye on the monitors. To his left is an ever-present can of Chef Boy R Dee. Looking to her right, she watches Stevens analyzing the thing responsible for killing her partner. Walking over to Stevens she stops a few steps shy and looks around, not seeing Admiral Kay.
Shrugging her shoulders, she continues to walk to Stevens’s side. “So, what’s the story with Silver Surfer here?”
She and Stevens turn in the direction of Garrett as he is clapping. “Two points for the newcomer. I have been sitting here trying to think of what to call him, but all I could think of was Captain Atom.”
Stevens shakes his head and looks back down to his iPad and continues as if not interrupted. “Kristen, this is unbelievable. I have cross referenced the makeup of his skin and the readings I got from the ship the other day; I don’t even trust what I am seeing.”
Still hearing Garrett mumbling something about Silver Surfer, he looks up at Abergathy then nods over to his friend, trying to keep his voice down. “Don’t encourage the muscle-bound monkey. We are trying to get him away from the graphic novel universe.”
Without looking away from the control monitors, Garrett says, “I heard that.”
“You guys are unbelievable. Here let me take a look.” She reaches up for the electronic pad. “I need to feel useful.”
“How familiar are you with atomic structure?” Stevens asks.
“Just give me the pad there Cyclops.” They both hear Garrett muffle a laugh as they turn to see him still at work on the computer. Abergathy looks back up at Stevens. “Please.”
“Alright young lady, show me what you know.” Stevens hands her the iPad.
From out of nowhere, Admiral Kay yells out, “Harvey! Can you come here?”
“Just . . . one . . . sec!�
� Garrett picks up speed typing away.
Stevens and Abergathy watch the muscular doctor nearly stumble out of his seat trying to hurry.
Holding the iPad, Abergathy looks back at Stevens. “Why do you guys follow him? I mean I get some of it. He appears to be an honorable man, driven and focused. But you two never question his motives.”
“Well, last year he saved Harvey’s life, and his life’s work,” Stevens nonchalantly tells her. “Earlier this year, I met with both of them, and they showed me that I too was in danger. And that dangerous people were watching my work. Harvey told me what happened at his Oklahoma lab. And we have been together since.”
“How did you guys end up here?” Abergathy asks.
Stevens points to the motionless man in front of them. “Well, that is because of this guy and that ship of his leaving magnetic-gravitational waves across the atmosphere. I started tracking them late last year, and that is what brought us here.”
Garret makes considerable fumbling sounds as he knocks over some cans, hurrying to meet with the admiral. Abergathy turns her attention back to Stevens.
“So, you are here because he trusts you and is willing to follow your lead.”
“Well, nobody here is really the one in charge. We work together.” Pointing to the tablet, he says, “Now Kristen, let’s see what you know.” Folding his arms, he says, “What can you tell me about this man?”
Moving things around on the tablet, she is astonished. “You got all this information from your headgear. That is, like, wow.” Making a few more swipes on the tablet, she absently starts to take a few steps; not realizing the tablet is connected to the headgear. It catches and Stevens is jerked down, and he catches his balance by grabbing on her shoulders.
Covering her mouth, she freezes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize this was attached.”
Stevens reaches up and detaches the tablet. “No problem, it was my fault. There you go.”
Watching him straighten up, Abergathy shakes her head. “Okay, first of all, this is a lot of information.” She immediately takes a few steps backwards. “This guy’s radioactive!”
“He’s not though. I would have detected that.”
“I am seeing uranium, more precisely diuranium octoxide. That is a natural form of uranium, but I am also seeing thorium nitrate. These two together must be working to create a clean-power reactor, but what is it powering?”
Stopping she looks up and leans towards the mysterious man. “This is incredible. How is this possible? This man has no other vitals.”
“Okay, those elements I saw. But what I do not believe is an atomic structure there that should not be there, especially in this quantity. And as for his vitals, I think they’re being blocked.”
“You are talking about Element 1-1-5.” Abergathy begins to slowly walk around the clothed man. She starts to wave a free hand in the air.
“I can’t remember what it’s called. It just became accepted to the periodic table.” Getting a closer look at the mysterious man, she asks, “Are we sure this is not an alternate sentient life form?”
“No, it is not an alternate sentient life form. Although, I like the way you worded that, so much better than alien. Anyways, Harvey found out who he was yesterday.”
Taking a moment to remove his headgear, Stevens takes two long strides to the other side of the man. “I would like to introduce you to Professor Eprem Mildiani. Professor, this in Kristen Abergathy, and, as you can see, both attractive and brilliant.”
Smiling and shaking her head, she says, “So who is Professor Mill-Dee-Yani?”
“Professor Mildiani. It was his work on atomic structure understanding that inspired me to study in the field.” Stevens raises his hand in theatrical fashion.
“Did he look like this when he was inspiring you?” Abergathy asks.
Dropping his hand, Stevens gives her a deadpanned look. “No . . . smart alec. He did not, which is why I need to know how this happened.”
* * *
Inside another room of the bunker, Garrett and the admiral stand in awe over the vastness of the room. Garret notices the large computer console and what appears to be an oversized boat docking pad.
“So, this is where he stores that ship when he is not traipsing around the globe.”
“Well it is one of the places,” the admiral notes without much excitement.
“What do you mean one of the places?” Garrett turns and asks.
The admiral smiles, “Think about it,” motioning to the other room. “He is here and where is the ship?”
Garrett looks at the door then up at the giant hatch of a ceiling. “That is a good point.”
“You mentioned earlier about him traipsing around the globe, but what did you mean by that?”
“Well I figured since we are dealing with Project Cadmus or rather an unknown, highly organized, highly funded organization that I would check with MUFON to see if they had anything.” Garrett taps his fingers together trying to keep his enthusiasm in check.
The admiral holds his hand out, motioning for him to slow down. “Slow it down. First, who or what is MUFON?”
“Mutual UFO Network, an organization that has been tracking and researching anything and everything that has to do with aliens since Roswell—” Seeing that the Admiral was about to object, he says, “Or anything perceived to have to do with aliens.”
“And these people are not a government agency?” the admiral says, rubbing the back of his neck and pacing. “Interesting. Okay, so he was traipsing.”
“Of course, it is not conclusive evidence. However, there’s photo evidence of it, or something that looks like it.” Recognizing the admiral is getting impatient, Garrett focuses his attention to him.
“Alright, he was spotted in Owings Mills, Maryland back in August, Colorado Springs in October, Torrance California in November, and LA Center in Washington in December. Those are the ones I can almost confirm. This guy is creating quite a stir with the UFO conspiracists and hunters. There was even one spotting on a highway in Colorado in December where it could only be seen on the camera after a shot was taken. And the other locations, one minute it was there then it was gone.”
Uneasy and unsure of the new information, the admiral turns to the exit. “Well let’s go back in and see if Lincoln and Kristen have made any headway with the professor. I just thought you would appreciate this area that is actually under the barn.”
The excitement returns in Garrett’s eyes. “This does add to the cool factor. I mean, I love this Bat Cave. If I even had some of this stuff, I wouldn’t have been caught.”
The admiral chuckles. “Let’s go and see what they’ve found out.”
Interstate 165,
LA
July 21, 1006 hours
The Ford F250 cruises down Interstate-165. St. Clair notices that Selenia, who’s in the passenger seat, keeps looking out her rear side mirror, appearing nervous. St. Clair puts a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump.
“Relax, what you worried about?”
“Nothing.” Selenia lowers the visor to check her makeup. Then she scurries to open her purse and takes out a large compact. Curling towards the truck door, she massages one of her eyes while looking into the small mirror.
St. Clair shakes his head trying to make conversation. “I didn’t know you wore contacts. Now that I mention that, I don’t really know too much about you.”
A smile forms across Selenia’s face as she turns to look at him. “You’re kidding me, right? Little John, I remember you learning every inch of me.”
He tries to hide some embarrassment. “That’s not what I mean.”
Smiling and looking back into the compact, Selenia says, “Believe me, you would not believe me.”
“C’mon girl, give it a shot.”
She looks up at St. Clair and says, “How about the fact that I was found on the door steps of St. Andrew’s Church in Birmingham, England on a full moon?”
Slowing down, St
. Clair pulls off the side of the road. As it rolls to a stop, he turns a look at her. “Well that is mysterious. If you had no parents, how did you get your name?”
Selenia looks around, and not seeing anything on the road she looks at St. Clair with nervous curiosity. “Why are we pulling over?”
“You seem nervous, so we’re waiting for Nomi and Grunt. No worries though, Flea’ll play nice. I would like to hear about the rest of you while we wait for them to catch up.”
“Okay, sounds fair. Wait, why do you call her Flea?”
St. Clair lets out a laugh. “Her size for starters and the fact she can move in quick burst with amazing speed . . . Now you are changing the subject.”
Giving an exaggerated wave of her hand, Selenia sighs. “What would you like to know?”
“Well for starters, if you did not have parents, where did you get your name? Eleadora Selenia is a very beautiful, yet unique, name.”
Selenia shows a hint of blushing as she watches the sincerity of St. Clair. “The name is Greek and means gift of the sun in the moonlight. I figure since it was a Greek community that found me, what else would you name a baby with alabaster skin and fiery red hair that you find on your doorstep on a full moon?”
Watching Selenia caress her arm as if in a soap commercial, a movement in the passenger side rearview mirror catches St. Clair’s eye. “If I didn’t know better I believe we have been spotted.” Before he can shift into gear a 2015 Black Lexus GS barely slows down as it passes them. St. Clair catches eye contact with Grunt, and he is immediately filled with a sense of elation as he watches them speed pass.
Inside the Black Lexus, Nomi is driving as if she can feel the wind in her hair. Pulling alongside the Ford F250, sitting off the side of the road, she smiles and slows down a little to get confirmation. Grunt looks out the passenger window making eye contact with St. Clair. As he turns to look ahead Nomi picks up speed again.
