by Ballan, Greg
“We have a 200-meter crater in the middle of one of the most top secret and secure military installations in the entire world. I don’t see how we can keep this a secret much longer. Washington and the Secretary of Defense as well as the Secretary of the Army and Air Force will want an explanation. Not to mention having an alien-humanoid capable of bench pressing a freight train, breathing down our throats, looking for his wife because we’ve kidnapped her to harvest her child and study it.”
Anderson paused as he looked out the window at the damage control teams still working to clear debris from the explosion site. He whipped around “And let’s not forget the Tesla prototype.” He raised his arms in a defeated gesture. “We sent that multimillion dollar piece of hardware to the four corners of the world. Not only that, but the Roswell ship is a total loss as well, fifty years of research and technology gone. We had plans to adapt the Phoenix aircraft with a prototype stealth pod that we had managed to remove from that ship; it’s all gone now.”
Ross laughed despite himself. Anderson was correct in everything he said. “Is that all that’s bothering you, Bill?” he said in an attempt to be humorous.
“That’s the bulk of it.”
Ross joined Bill at the window and scowled, staring out at the damage to the Groom Lake facility. “The Air Force boys will definitely be pissed about this.” He sighed.
“Justifiably so.” Anderson gave him a don’t-you-agree look. “The Air Force base commander we relieved prior to this mission will have both of us up on charges.”
Ross nodded solemnly then returned to the couch. “We have a problem, Bill.”
“We?” Anderson repeated sarcastically as he walked back to Ross and loomed over him.
“Yes, ‘We,’ ” Ross replied as he pointed to the empty chair Anderson had occupied, then adjusted his own position on the sofa. Anderson sat and Ross began to explain.
“That probe reported back to wherever it came from, and notified the alien’s … father. We can expect the alien father to come to claim his son.”
Anderson looked confused. “Are you saying that our alien is a child?”
“Yup.” Ross gave him a nod to refute any questions.
“So, we’ve got an alien child, and a pregnant mother expecting a hybrid child – both captives with both fathers on the warpath that will eventually lead them here.” Anderson sighed, then shook his head at the no-win situation. He began pacing again as he contemplated a solution to either problem.
Anderson shook his head as he weighed different options and courses of action. “That’s a damn big problem. We know from our computer extrapolations that Knight, in warrior mode, is more powerful than any force we’re capable of dealing with. Knight’s impervious to conventional weapons – as far as we know. We also understand his body is capable of generating and harnessing incredible amounts of energy, possibly even using that energy as a weapon, although we can’t confirm that.”
Ross nodded.
“It’s simple then.” Anderson returned to his chair and faced Ross. “Give the aliens what they want. We turn over the son to his father and try to establish a productive dialogue regarding the abduction of our citizens and our downing of Gray’s ship and his abduction. This matter can be settled diplomatically without further hostility. As for the hybrid, we gambled on that scenario from the beginning. We took our chances and the gamble failed. He knows she’s alive and if he knows that, the odds are he’ll soon find out where she is. We haven’t the means to stop him. He’s only grown stronger since his original mutation.”
Ross looked at him in disbelief. “What you’re suggesting is that we simply give up?”
“What would you have us do?” Anderson said. Ross noted the protruding veins in Anderson’s neck as he went on. “Continue to fight and have more equipment destroyed while we suffer more casualties and possibly start an interstellar conflict with a technologically advanced civilization?”
“I was hoping you would have a more militaristic alternative.”
“Were you expecting me to suggest that you utilize Goliath and put at risk a forty billion dollar weapons platform that we haven’t even acknowledged exists to the rest of the world? Goliath violates several strategic arms limitations agreements that we have with other countries. If we attack the incoming vessels we will be declaring war and will clearly be the aggressors. We don’t have the right to commit the entire planet to that type of conflict, sir.” Anderson’s tone was emphatic.
Ross shook his head; this was not what he wanted to hear. Anderson was no longer on his side and could no longer be trusted. “I’m sorry Bill, but you’re going to have to cool your heels for awhile until this plays itself out. I was hoping for more than a defeatist attitude.”
Anderson nodded. “Do what you want, Art, but know that you’re condemning this planet if you act with aggression. If the aliens don’t kill you, Agent Knight will.”
“Don’t you understand?” Ross snapped. “They’ve been coming with impunity for decades, using us like lab rats for their own scientific study and curiosity. We have the right to defend ourselves. That’s all I’m doing.”
“But do we have the right to commit genocide on our entire species? We’re just one of many nations, and we’re acting – for good or bad – as one voice for the entire planet. That’s way beyond our jurisdiction,” Anderson fired back, shaking his head at the futility of the situation.
Ross showed himself to the door and gave the guards strict instructions to keep Anderson under watch at all times. He had to plan this on his own – the world be damned.
Chapter 15: Gestation Day 47, 0430 hrs
Prelude to Armageddon
The Asteroid Belt between Mars and Jupiter
To the Interstellar Observers it was evident that humans had adapted pieces of salvaged alien technology to strengthen their primitive earthly systems. After thirty years of passive study of the human race, Observers had lost one of their spaceships to the humans.
Their destroyed nomad probe had confirmed one of their own was being held hostage at a surface installation, the offspring of one of their most distinguished citizens. It was time to act, to confront the humans and address the crimes committed against them, and be held accountable for the crimes their race had committed for over four decades.
An heavy Observer cruiser was readied for deployment to Earth. This type of ship was their primary means of defense against hostile races that traveled through space, however the purpose of this mission was diplomatic, a first contact, an attempt to retrieve their young citizen and end the present hostilities in a peaceful manner.
The Observers knew, however, that the primitive humans would undoubtedly attack first and ask questions later. That, they’d learned by observation, was the human legacy, blind aggression despite the odds. Though they hoped for peace, the Observers busily prepared for a war.
* * * *
Madame’s Restaurant, Hopedale, Massachusetts
Erik arrived home at four in the morning. It felt like he had been away for months instead of weeks. Emotionally exhausted, he knew there was still much to do. Several calls had to be placed; his most important call being to the reporter who had been on the scene of his wife’s accident. Then he would shake up some sources regarding the plot against Monique LaSalle.
Erik unlocked the door to his office, walked in and carefully closed and locked it behind him. He tossed his duffel bag on the nearest chair and then flopped lazily on the couch. As he closed his eyes he imagined Shanda’s arms wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
Someone had taken his wife from him, and he swore to exact retribution.
“God, I know you’ve said that vengeance is yours, but this time I’m going to save you the effort. I’m going to kill those who took my wife and take great pleasure in doing so. I’m tired of being a shill for the government. Starting tomorrow, I’m playing by my own rules. Erik sighed. A man can be pushed only so far; I’ve reached my limit. He drifted off to sleep,
* * * *
Erik awoke to the smell of bacon, sausage, and freshly brewed American coffee. He grabbed his cell phone, unpacked his guns, slipped them into his combat holsters over his jersey and covered the guns with a worn flannel shirt. He headed to his usual booth, ignoring the stunned looks from waitresses and busboys.
Alissa walked over and smiled. “I had a feeling you were back.” She pulled out her order pad.
“I figured you would. I got back around four this morning.”
“The usual?” she asked.
“Please,” he replied.
Alissa waved over another waitress, handed the young girl the order slip then slid into the booth.
“Not exactly six months,” she said with a questioning look.
“Shanda’s alive, Alissa.”
“How do you know this for sure?”
“When I was overseas, I had to change. As soon as I did, I felt her. She called to me, along with … another presence.”
“Where is she?”
He shrugged, saying, “I don’t know. Her message was garbled, almost as if it were being jammed or muted on purpose. Our link reestablished itself the moment I received her mental call – and then nothing. But she’s out there, somewhere, and I’m going to find her.”
“Is your case finished?” Alissa asked.
“No, but clues and details require my presence here as well. The threat to Miss LaSalle originated from the US and it can only be stopped from here. The LaSalle’s tour has been postponed indefinitely.”
Alissa nodded then fetched a pot of coffee and poured him a cup. Erik inhaled the aroma deeply and sighed with satisfaction.
“Have you had any more visions regarding the objects?” he asked.
“Just one, a few nights ago, I couldn’t make any more out of it.”
“I just thought I’d ask,” Erik grumbled. He was hoping that she would have been able to gather more insight into the troubling vision that neither one of them could understand.
Erik leaned closer to Alissa and whispered, “I spoke with my silver friend like I promised,” Erik whispered. “He knew what those things were and what race created them.”
“Just how bad is it?”
“According to him, they’re a peaceful race, annoyingly curious, yet peaceful. He seems to think that they were provoked somehow.”
The detective felt an uneasy sensation; he was being watched. He wasn’t in any danger, but whoever was observing him had not expected to find him here. A quick glance at Alissa confirmed that the young telepath felt the same sensation.
She leaned in. “Were you expecting company?”
“No, nobody should know I’m here.”
“Funny.” Alissa shifted in her seat. “I get the impression that he’s shocked to find you here, but he’s here looking for someone else.”
Erik did a mental search of the room. “Over in the back, table sixteen,” Erik said as he locked in on the source.
Alissa casually glanced over. A nervous looking man sat listlessly. “He’s anticipating trouble, Erik.”
“Oh, really?” Erik stood up from his booth and said over his shoulders. “Then I believe I’ll go give him some.”
At the sight of his approach, the man quickly donned his coat and plucked money from his wallet. Erik quickened his pace and arrived at the back table just as the man straightened from placing a tip on the table.
“Sit down. Let’s chat for awhile.” Erik used his bulk to prod the man back into the booth.
The man shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
Erik reached over and grabbed the man’s hand in an iron grip. He began to squeeze. “You’re going to make me do this the hard way aren’t you?” he whispered in an icy tone.
Alissa joined them and sat next to the stranger. She lifted his wallet from his coat and tossed it on the table. She looked at Erik with a meaningful glance.
“Check him,” he whispered.
Alissa discretely gave the man a pat down; her hand paused against his side. She looked over at Erik, alarmed.
“He’s got a gun.”
Erik increased his grip on the man’s hand and the armed man moaned. “Suffer quietly!” With a look, he gestured for Alissa to sift through the wallet.
He kept his grip on the stranger while, one at a time, Alissa pulled out ID cards, credit cards and other paper bits that might shed some light on the reason this man was here. She then reported back to Erik.
“He’s a fed! Alexander Peter Hendrix is the name.”
“Well, well, what’s a fed doing all the way out here in suburban nowhere?” Erik asked.
“That isn’t any of your business Special Agent Knight.”
Erik let go of the man’s hand and the agent shook his appendage and gave the detective an unfriendly stare. “You’re stepping in where you don’t belong, Agent Knight. Just go about your business and let us do what we have to do.”
Leaning over the table, Erik glowered at the fed. “This is my place of business, shithead! You don’t come in here and snoop around, then tell me I’m stepping where I shouldn’t. Who are you looking for, Mr. Hendrix, and why are you looking here?”
“I’ve already notified my partners, and they’re on their way in. Unless you want to make a scene, you’d best let me go and stay clear of me. Because the next time we cross paths, Special Agent Knight, I’ll bury you.”
Erik whipped his hand across the table and grabbed Hendrix by his coat lapel, then yanked the man halfway out of his seat. “Don’t you ever threaten me. Not here. This is my home turf. If you have business here then the business comes through me, and as far as a next time you’d just better pray that it never happens, Hendrix.”
“Erik! Three more men just entered the restaurant and they are making their way toward us.”
Hendrix had indeed called in reinforcements before he’d gotten to him. Erik shoved the fed against the seat, using more force than necessary and stood up to intercept the three men.
He drew his Wilson pistols with lightning speed, locking both barrels on the approaching men.
“Back off!” His lethal tone stopped the feds in their tracks.
“Easy!” the lead man said. “Nobody wants trouble here, Mr. Knight.”
Erik raised an eyebrow in question. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“Detective Thomas Chan, Hopedale PD. I’m reaching for my badge. Let’s not have an incident.” Chan slowly reached inside his coat and produced a police shield.
Erik relaxed slightly and re-holstered his weapons. “Just effing wonderful,” he said, sighing and shaking his head. He thought he knew all the local police. Chan must have recently transferred from another department. What were the local police doing, playing footsie with some shady feds? Erik gestured toward the hallway. “Mr. Chan, won’t you and your cohorts join me for breakfast in my office?”
Chan smiled and motioned his partners to follow the detective.
The confrontation had customers holding their breaths. Now they whispered actively among themselves about the group leaving the main dining area.
Erik knew that Alissa and the other waitresses would quickly refill coffee cups and do their best to calm and divert the attention of their customers.
* * * *
After several formal introductions Detective Chan explained the surveillance at Madame’s with regard to Nancy Bertoni and the stolen classified documents. “We had no idea you were back; according to Hendrix you were in Paris for the next six months!”
“I got back this morning,” Erik admitted.
“Erik, had we known, we would have run the operation by you first and given you the collar,” Chan assured the detective. Erik felt Chan’s sincerity, but detected nothing but panic and discomfort from Hendrix. The Fed was definitely not happy that Erik was involved in this new matter.
At a loss, Erik wondered aloud. “What’s in those documents that would have anything to do with me?”
C
han shrugged. “We don’t know what Nancy Bertoni took or why she would come here. All we know for sure is that she’s stolen top secret information – property of the CIA and the OSA, and the documents need to be returned asap.” Erik glanced at Hendrix who was unable to conceal his rising irritation.
“She was staying at a motel in Milford,” Chan added. “Two feds found her room earlier this morning. They went through her trash and found a package of blond hair dye, and there were several long strands of her hair on the bathroom floor. It’s safe to say Ms. Bertoni is now a short-haired blonde rather that a long-haired brunette. We also know she’s driving a ’97 burgundy Ford Escort, license plate 9 4 2 7 Y H.”
“Is there an ‘all points’ out on the car?” Erik asked Chan.
“No,” Hendrix answered instead. “We wanted to apprehend her ourselves and conduct our own interrogation. This is technically an inside operation. We contacted the local PD as an official courtesy.”
Another fed, quiet so far, spoke up. “We think she figured out who we were when we came into the motel office. When we arrived the Escort was parked in the motel lot but after we checked her room, the car was gone. The room was vacated in a hurry, judging by what was left behind.”
“She’s probably half way to the moon by now,” Chan admitted grudgingly.
“I don’t think so.” Erik raked a hand through his hair. “If she wants to get to me so badly, let her. I have the necessary clearances to handle the stolen information without being considered a security risk. Call off the search, and pull your men back. Keep somebody in here watching if you must, but otherwise be scarce. If she feels safe, she’ll come in on her own. She can talk to me and get whatever it is off her chest, then I simply turn over the information to my superiors along with our renegade spy.”
Chan smiled. “Simple and elegant, I like it.”
Everyone agreed, but Hendrix still appeared uneasy. “I want to be on hand to appropriate the stolen data.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he insisted, “Our people, not Knight, will take responsibility for the stolen documentation.”
