by James Cooke
‘Er, excuse me, buddy, I just asked you a question.’
This time he got the message.
‘Sorry. I don’t know. What I do know is that he is their leader, a Colonel or something like that. They just arrived out of the blue a few days ago by helicopter. They won’t say what they are doing here, it all seems to be top secret. Whoever he is, you get the distinct impression that they’re not the sort of people you would want to mess with though judging by the weaponry they’re carrying’, Van den Bough carefully explained.
‘This Colonel, what is his name?’ asked Sarah.
‘I don’t remember, all I know is that he comes across as an evil bastard who wears an eyepatch.’ Sarah instantly clicked and said, ‘Eghert - shit, I don’t believe it. That’s all we need!’
Van den Bough frowned, annoyed with himself for being the bearer of bad news.
‘Okay, what the hell is going on around here, we don’t normally see anyone else for a year at a time down here, and then, out of the blue, two lots of unannounced visitors turn up unexpectedly.’ Van den Bough exclaimed.
Brian saw the need to calm things down before things got out of control.
‘Woah, everyone relax, let’s go and talk with Dr Carter, shall we?’ he said, glancing at Sarah then Van den Bough, for acknowledgement. Both nodded slowly, neither said a word.
Chapter 22
Eghert had forgotten just what a miserable place Marion Island could be, nothing but a barren, windswept rocky outcrop in the middle of the South Indian ocean as far as he was concerned. Thirty-seven years ago, at the age of twenty-two, it probably didn’t seem too bad at the time, but now that he was back in the desolate alien landscape located in what appeared to be a perpetual storm, he realised ipso facto just how challenging Marion Island could be.
Back in 1979 under the command of Colonel Trent, Eghert was just a Corporal in the US Army, albeit a very competent and enthusiastic one, a real high flyer according to his superiors. So much so, that his dedication to his country had been well noticed and consequently he had been fast-tracked up the ranks.
The Marion Island research station was a lot smaller then, with only a small contingent of South African staff operating the facility. As far as Eghert was concerned, they were all a bunch of long-haired, bearded hippie freaks. He saw himself as a tough, professionally trained soldier, from the greatest nation on the planet and consequently, his team could do whatever they damned well liked on the Island. He and Trent had trained at the National Ground Intelligence Center in Virginia and had formed a strong friendship. In the summer of 1979, Eghert was part of Trent’s team, conducting non-routine special op’s mission. He was only too pleased to impress his commanding officer.
Trent had briefed his team shortly before departing the USS Aircraft Carrier Ronald Reagan by helicopter.
‘Listen up gentlemen our orders are simple: find and recover the UFO. Yes, gentlemen, a god damned UFO that we believe landed somewhere on Marion Island approximately three days ago. As for the scientist and god knows who else are working here, understand this, they shall not be allowed to hinder our operation, not in any shape or form. Nor shall anyone here divulge what happens after we have finished our mission to anyone outside of this room as long as he shall live. Let me be perfectly clear on that gentlemen; anyone who does won’t live long enough to tell the tale, is that understood? Any questions? – Good.’ Trent said firmly.
Of course, there were none; each team member knew that Trent was deadly serious, it came with the territory. Except for one member of the team.
‘Sir, Eghert 5672, what are our orders if we encounter … well, you know sir, aliens’ sir?’, Eghert asked light-heartedly. His fellow officers sniggered derisively. They were only too afraid to ask what only Eghert had the balls to say.
Trent smiled and replied ‘That’s enough. Good question, Eghert. Gentlemen if such a situation arises, you will shoot first to kill, then we’ll sort out the mess out afterwards, no questions, is that crystal? Okay, dismissed. Prepare for take-off at o-six hundred hours.’
Trent’s commanding officer; Captain Westlake, had already smoothed things over with the South African government, apologizing on behalf of the United States, that one of their military satellites seemingly crash-landed on Marion Island, and furthermore, it contained top secret information vital not only to the West but also to the free world, which naturally included South Africa.
As a result, Trent’s team were granted exclusive diplomatic access to the Island and informed that the station staff would not only co-operate fully but be at their disposal if needed. Trent and his team of ten men arrived shortly after noon on October 25th, 1979 and quickly made themselves comfortable within the meagre facilities of the research station. Trent had set up his base of operations in the central station office much to the annoyance of the five resident staff members. The station officer, a young Mr Carter BSc, MSc, was particularly put out by the whole affair.
Carter was a seasoned anti-war campaigner and had taken part in numerous anti-Vietnam war marches, so not surprisingly he took a pretty dim view of American soldiers just being on the Island. He was suspicious as to how they seemingly knew for certain what might be left of their satellite, which had somehow conveniently landed on their small Island, a mere pinprick in the thousands of square miles of ocean surrounding it. The satellite images that Trent had brought with him gave a clue in the form of before and after photographs. An area of the Island due south of the State President Swart peak, the highest point on the Island at 1234 meters, indicated a patch of white on the latest image that hadn’t existed four days ago.
‘Mr. Carter, you see this here?’ Trent said, pointing to the anomaly on the latest satellite image. ‘How far is it from the base here?’ he continued.
Carter took the photo and reluctantly studied the ariel reconnaissance picture.
‘If you mean that! Whatever it is, it’s near Goodhope Bay. As the crow flies, it’s about seven or eight miles away.’ Carter explained reluctantly.
Trent sniggered and grabbed the photo back.
‘Okay that doesn’t sound too far, can we can drive there?’
Carter shook his head.
‘Drive? I’m afraid that’s absolutely out of the question.’
Trent pushed his chair back in annoyance; he wasn’t used to such negativity.
‘Really, why is that Mr Carter?’
‘Well, for one thing, there are no roads or any resemblance of tracks on Marion Island. It’s completely untouched. Besides, we don’t have any suitable vehicles. I’m afraid the only way to get to Goodhope bay is to walk. It’s a two-day hike across the extremely challenging terrain.’
Trent eyed Carter with contempt as if it was entirely down to him that this godforsaken place didn’t have any semblance of basic infrastructure.
He addressed Eghert.
‘Eghert, get the men ready for a little field trip. Take whatever provisions we’ll need from their stores.’
Eghert jumped to attention, like a jack in the box.
‘Aye-aye sir, right away.’ Eghert replied with a big grin on his face, turning mockingly to Carter.
Carter threw his hands up, ‘Now wait a minute, you can’t just go ahead and help yourselves.’
But Trent had other ideas about that.
‘Corporal Eghert, please show Mr Carter how serious we are.’
Eghert couldn’t believe his luck.
‘Yes sir!’ Eghert replied. He pulled out his Desert Eagle 0.50 sidearm and pointed it straight at Carter’s face.
‘I think you’ll find that we can do anything we like here Mr Carter. If you and your team know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of our way. Corporal Eghert, go and take care of their radio room if you would please, make sure it can’t be fixed.’
Corporal Eghert left the room, excitedly. When he found the radio room, he took great pleasure in unloading two clips of 0.50 slugs into the radio sets and then he and his men helped thems
elves to water and provisions from the station kitchen. The gunshots rang through the base, like a lightning strike. On hearing the commotion, Carter made a hasty retreat to the staff room to brief the other waiting staff members.
‘The man’s a complete lunatic; he’ll have us all killed if we don’t keep out of their way.’
The team were shocked. ‘What should we do?’ asked a young Van den Bough.
‘I’m afraid we can’t contact the mainland, what you just heard was gunfire, they shot the radio set. Now we’ve got no means of communication. We’re not due to update the mainland until Friday, three days from now. I’m sure that when we don’t do that, they’ll keep on trying to contact us for a few hours before they assume it’s an emergency; and then they’ll probably ask the South African Air Force to investigate. But that might not happen until Saturday, so all we can do until then, is to go about our normal business. No one, I repeat no one, is to try any heroics.’ Carter added.
‘Well I think I can speak for the rest of the team, you can count on that sir.’ Van den Bough replied.
‘Good, because these guys are, as I say, complete lunatics; and dangerous ones at that. Okay, now that we’re all here, I want to ask, has anyone any idea if anything out of the ordinary might have happened recently over near Goodhope Bay?’
There was a long silent pause before Mr Jones; the station Meteorologist piped up.
‘Well, nothing significant I think.’ he blurted out.
‘Go on Jonesy, tell him what you thought you’d seen, you know the other night.’ Mr Wilson, the station cook, chipped in.
Carter cocked an eye at the admission that there might be something to it after all.
‘Saw exactly what Jones. If you’ve seen something unusual, why haven’t you reported it?’ Carter asked.
‘It’s just that I’m not too sure myself. It was on Tuesday evening. I was walking to the latrines via the south footpath when something in the south-west sky caught my eye. It sort of resembled a meteorite but only much slower. Then it did something very odd.’ Jones explained.
‘Odd, what the hell do you mean odd?’ Carter replied.
‘Okay, whatever it was, it appeared to slow down and just before I lost sight of it over the other side of the peak, and it changed from brilliant white to a kind of fluorescence green.’
‘Christ almighty Jones, what in god’s name were you thinking; when were you going to share this little revelation with the rest of us, eh? Don’t you think that was a bit strange?’ Carter replied with a hint of frustration.
‘Well, yes I suppose so, I just wanted to make sure.’
‘Make sure! Oh God, please give me strength.’ Carter attempted to calm down, and asked again in a quieter tone, ‘Okay Mr Jones, just take your time, please tell us again why you needed to make sure.’
Jones twitched awkwardly on the spot, averting his gaze towards his colleagues, in an effort not to appear a fool.
He coughed, clearing his throat.
‘Make sure I wasn’t seeing things. You see, I was off duty that day, and I suppose I’d had a few too many. I thought I might just be seeing things.’
Someone sniggered, and eyes widened.
‘Quiet you lot, let Mr Jones finish,’ Carter interjected, ‘Carry on Mr Jones if you will.’
Jones nodded his head in agreement, ‘Yeah shut up you lot, I’m not the only one around here who likes a drink.’
‘Jones, never mind that, just spit it out, man.’ Carter snapped back.
‘Sorry, Mr Carter. As I was saying, I thought I’d check to see if there had been any other sightings.’ Jones replied.
‘Bloody hell Jones, have you lost the plot? Well, has there been?’
‘No, none that I can find sir.’
Carter sat down at a nearby table, with his face in his hands for a few seconds, in exasperation and then announced, ‘Right this is what I think we should do. If Mr Jones and I left now, we could get to Goodhope bay area well before those soldiers or whatever they are, could; given the fact that we know the terrain far better than they do.’
There were no objections or questions, everyone nodded in agreement.
‘Good. Okay, Mr Jones, meet me in fifteen minutes fully prepared outside of the generator building. Dr Hellaby, I’m leaving you in charge until we return. If any of our unwelcome guests should ask where we are, tell them that we’ve gone to check a weather station on the north coast, okay?’
‘Sure, no problem. Please, just be careful. How long do we leave it before we send a search party out if you’re not back with twenty-four hours?’ Dr Hellaby asked.
‘We’ll be back alright, but let’s stick with twenty-four hours for now.’ Carter replied.
Just as planned, Carter and Jones set off shortly before noon carrying food and water that the cook had packed for them. They had managed to slip away unnoticed before Eghert, and his men set off, and by five o-clock they were a good two-thirds of the way there. Having explored most of the Island over the last few years, they knew how to avoid the numerous bogs and deadly ravines.
As darkness descended, Carter found a sheltered spot in which to camp overnight. Eghert was just a mile behind when he too decided to wait until dawn before risking any of his men in the dark. During the night, while the wind howled, Jones had noticed several lights to the East which he suspected were the Americans. Consequently, they both agreed to get moving again just before dawn. After setting off once again, the terrain soon became even more hazardous with even steeper slopes covered in black scree from the Islands central volcano. They were now due south of President's peak and about half a mile from the Southern cliffs of Goodhope bay.
‘Damn, this is going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Did you bring the binoculars, Jonesy?’ Carter asked. Jones fumbled about in his rucksack, found the binoculars, and passed them to cater; who scanned the immediate area. It seemed somewhat hopeless as nothing out of the ordinary stood out amongst the craggy slopes of black cinder ash from the volcano. What they hadn’t noticed was a pair of breeding Brown Skua’s nesting nearby, and now they had inadvertently disturbed them. These giant oversized seagulls had absolutely no fear of man and would swoop down at anyone who came too close to their nesting grounds, capable of easily killing a person with their enormously powerful beaks. Now they were in attack mode. All Jones could do was frantically wave his walking staff at them in an attempt to ward off the skua’s whenever they came in for an attack. While Jones carried on waving his stick around as if it were a Jedi lightsabre, Carter continued to survey the area. For some unknown reason, the skua’s didn’t dive bomb Carter, it was as if they recognised him from previous encounters and deemed him not to be a threat. Standing at the top of Santa Rosa Valley, Carter could see it gently sloping away from around a thousand meters to sea level due south of the peak of the volcano. About halfway down the valley was a smaller peak; Santa Rosa Hill.
It was a volcanic cinder cone that connected to the central volcano, through a series of underground passages. As Carter observed the cone, he noticed something odd.
‘Jones, didn’t you say something about whatever it was you saw the other night, about it turning from white to green?’
Jones wasn’t listening, he was too busy frantically waving his makeshift sabre about at the dive-bombing birds.
‘Just a minute sir, we seem to be under attack by these bloody things.’ Jones replied as he desperately swung the staff at the incoming skuas.
‘C’mon you bastards, come and get some of this,' he shouted, swinging the staff around like a man possessed. Carter saw that he was somehow, immune from their attacks, but knew that he needed Jones, and picked up and threw some stones at the birds until eventually, they ceased their attacks.
‘For god’s sake, Jones, calm down, they’re only bloody birds.’ Carter shouted.
‘I know sir, but…’ Jones replied, without finishing what he intended to say, and instead, breathed heavily.
Carter close
d his eyes and shook his head in frustration, his patience wearing thin.
‘I think we must be close to their nesting site. If we step away over here, I’m sure they’ll leave us alone. Fairly obvious, Mr Jones, I would have thought. See, they’re leaving us alone now.’
Jones nodded in agreement, ‘Yeah, you’re right if I’d have seen them…’ Jones replied, still breathing heavily.
‘Okay, back to my question, the green light?’ Carter asked.
‘Yes, sorry. As I said before, it seemed to go bright green before I lost sight of it.’
‘Well, in that case, I think I may have found whatever it is you saw. See, down there in the cinder cone.’
Jones took the binoculars from Carter and focused on the cinder cone about five hundred meters away. The dark centre had a distinctive green glow; it pulsated slowly from darkness to green and back.
‘Bloody hell, that’s weird, something isn’t quite right about it.’
‘Exactly Jones. Let’s take a closer gander, shall we?’
Carter and Jones carefully made their way down towards the cinder cone, walking sideways on the loose scree of the valley slope. As they approached the cone, they quickly realised just how large it was. Rising five or six meters from the surrounding area to the rim itself, which appeared to have a similar diameter.
‘Wait, stop!’ said Carter placing his hand on Jones’s shoulder.
‘Listen, can you hear that?’
Jones had a puzzled expression, moving his eyes from side to side as if that might help to hear the sound.
‘Sorry, hear what Mr Carter?’
Carter cupped his right ear and tilted his head.
‘Listen, there it is again. A low-pitched humming noise like nothing I’ve ever heard before.’
Jones copied Carter, in an effort to hear it, this time he did.
‘Yes, yes, I can hear it now. What the hell do you think it is?’
‘I have absolutely no idea, but I’m determined to bloody well find out,’ Carter replied, ‘C’mon let’s get closer, shall we?’ he continued.
They both ascended the northern face of the cinder cone with difficulty due to the loose black cinder coke; it was akin to walking up a sand dune. As they approached the summit, the humming noise grew louder, and they could also detect a sinusoidal change in frequency. The rim of the cinder cone, about six or seven meters in diameter afforded them only a minimum surface area on which to stand, without risk of falling in.
