The Cresperian Alliance

by Stephanie Osborn

"Mr. Weingarten, my instructions were to do what you said and wait for you to tell me before opening my orders. So I'm sitting here where you told me and I'm waiting. I figure eventually I'll know what the hell is going on.” Bangler shrugged.

  "Right. You'll know soon enough but no need to be formal. Call me Herman."

  "Okay, Herman. I'm Ed. Can you tell me when I'll know something?"

  Weingarten grinned at something Bangler couldn't see. “Yep. About an hour after we land. That's when we'll part company. In the meantime, how about a drink?"

  "Am I on duty?"

  "Yes, but it's shiny. What'll you have?"

  Bangler suddenly wondered whether he could trust the man but decided he might as well. Besides, he could sure as hell use a drink. Packing and leaving in such an all fired damn hurry had upset him—or maybe agitated was a better word, he decided—and he was still not really settled down. He didn't care much for secrecy. At least not at this level.

  "Do you have bourbon?"

  "Jim Beam."

  "That's good. Over ice."

  He watched as Herman opened a cabinet and produced a tiny, single serving bottle. He raised his brows when he saw that it was White Label. The man went first class. A disposable cocktail glass, a scoop of ice, and Herman poured the contents of the little bottle over the ice. He brought the drink to him then amiably served the others.

  The first sip of the very smooth bourbon took him back to his teenage years in Kentucky where his father worked at a distillery. He had been allowed small amounts of bourbon from the time he was fourteen and had developed a taste for it when he drank, but he followed his Dad's advice and never had more than two or three drinks in any one entire day after he was grown. Being in Special Forces gave him less opportunity than most but he didn't mind. He wasn't a heavy drinker and it was all the better when he allowed himself to indulge.

  "Good stuff, huh?"

  "Yes, it is. Thanks."

  "No problem. Glad to see a man enjoy his booze, instead of just knocking it back. Mind if I ask you a question, Bang?"

  Bangler winced, suddenly understanding Weingarten's earlier grin. “Where did you hear that?"

  "It's what you're called, isn't it?"

  "Yeah. I had hoped when I got a transfer it would get lost—but I suppose that's expecting too much."

  "It would be. You're stuck with it for life, pal.” Weingarten shot him a grin, brilliant white in his dark chocolate face. “Why did you enlist in the Army? You could have applied for a commission."

  He shrugged. “My Dad thought it would be a good idea. If I liked the army I could always apply for OCS."

  "You probably wouldn't have to, as much as the army needs well educated men. A degree in Biology and another in Math would have done it for you easy."

  "Probably. If I stay in, an enlisted hitch or two won't hurt me."

  "Do you think you'll stay?"

  Bangler grinned. “I suppose so. I like the army, most ways. Too much bureaucracy, but I guess you'll find that in any big organization."

  "True. Most, but not all,” he added enigmatically.

  "How about you? What do you do, other than shepherd sergeants and other strange people around the country?"

  "That's about it right now. Another drink?"

  He refused. “No, I think I'll let the seat back and try to get a nap. No telling what's in front of me."

  The Gulfstream landed at a dusty, secluded private airport a couple of hours laterhe and Herman were put in the back seat of a nondescript car with bad shocks and driven into forest covered hills that rose higher the farther they drove. Two other cars followed at long intervals behind them. Eventually, after an increasingly bumpy ride—Bangler could quickly see why the shocks were bad, and why nobody really bothered to repair them—they came to a stop. On his side he saw nothing but trees. He couldn't see very far past Herman. A granite wall was in the way. As he watched, an entrance in what appeared to be solid rock slid open.

  "All out,” the driver said, the first words he'd uttered since telling them to crawl into the back seat.

  Bangler exited and pulled his two bags from the trunk. Herman gathered one of them and motioned to him. “Hurry, so we can close this back up."

  Inside was nothing more than a lighted, paved tunnel into the rock and three golf carts, two of them with drivers. Herman climbed into the driver's seat of the empty one as the door to the outside slid closed, fast, smooth and silent.

  "'Curiouser and curiouser,'” Bangler quoted.

  "Yep. You could open your orders now but you may as well let it wait. I'm taking you directly to your room."

  "My room? In a mountain?"

  "It's a big mountain. We're going in the back way. Uh, one of the back ways. Bigger groups come in more openly. Topside is what looks like a big mining headquarters, along with a real coal mine."

  The statement about a big mountain proved prophetic. After driving silently for a very—VERY—long way, the cart entered an elevator and descended fast enough to make his ears pop. The door opened and Herman drove the cart into a hallway. He kept to the right and before long passed a number of people, men and women both, most in uniforms he recognized but a couple in uniforms Bangler'd never seen before. He wondered whether they were with some allied army, then put the thought away. He'd know soon enough, presumably. Periodically the hall was marked with various colored dots.

  The cart turned several corners and finally entered a hallway marked by a series of doors with nameplates attached. It stopped at one.

  "Welcome to the Brider Enclave,” Herman announced. “You are now a part of the Space Force Research Center, otherwise known as The Group.” Bang raised an eyebrow.

  Herman grinned at him and removed a tag from his wallet. He slid it into the nameplate slot. The nameplate read, “S/Sgt Edward Bangler."

  Hm. Staff sergeant, huh? Bangler thought. It looked as if he had been promoted.

  The room was small. Really small. It consisted of a bunk that folded up and attached to the wall, two chairs that did the same, a wall locker and a very small head with a tiny shower stall and a sink with drawers beneath. Against one wall were another, more comfortable looking chair and an alcove containing a monitor with keyboard beneath. Presumably the CPU was there somewhere or more likely the monitor was interfaced with it from somewhere else. Bangler had no more than begun to unpack before the monitor lit up and a face came into view, that of a pleasantly pretty woman.

  "Sergeant Bangler,” she said, “please report to your headquarters. Turn right in the hall and follow the green dots."

  "Got it,” he replied, and the monitor blinked off.

  He allowed just enough time to wash his face and comb his short dark hair before leaving, taking no more than a couple of minutes. He walked for a long time, it seemed, until the hall opened up into a series of cubicles. A clerk at a small desk guarded the entrance, the same one who had spoken from the monitor.

  "Sergeant Bangler?"

  "That's me.” He took out his ID card.

  She looked at it briefly, then pointed to a narrow aisle between cubicles. “Straight ahead. First Sergeant is waiting on you."

  Damn. And he still hadn't opened his orders. He followed the directions and wound up in an enclosed office. Inside was a PFC, obviously a clerk, and a Master Sergeant with oriental features in one of those funny uniforms. A diamond icon adorned his sleeve above the stripes.

  "Staff Sergeant Bangler reporting, First Sergeant,” he said.

  "Glad to have you. I'm Wang. You're the last one. Give me your orders."

  He handed over the manila envelope with the unbroken Top Secret tape.

  "Not curious?"

  "I thought I would get unpacked, then sit down and read. Obviously I had my priorities backwards."

  "Not to worry. Everything is in a damn rush, including an emergency mission before leaving, unless I miss my guess. I'm going to have someone take you for a bite to eat and show you around. Your duty for tomorrow is to tak
e the whole day and go over the parameters of Mission White Horse in case it comes up. Just type it in on your keyboard and give it a thumbprint when it asks for it. The unit will have dinner tomorrow at seven after the others have cleared out of the cafeteria. You'll meet your people and the other NCOs and officers tomorrow. And don't worry about being behind. We just got the order to activate the mission study yesterday and we still have two men on the way to fill out the Table of Organization and Equipment. They should be here sometime tomorrow, I hope. Hell, we just found out where we'll be going if the mission comes off, so we're all babes in the woods, so to speak.” He glanced at his watch. “Come on, I'll bet you're hungry, and so am I. I'll show you the cafeteria myself."

  Once seated with trays, Wang asked, “Ever hear about aliens on Earth, Bang?"

  "Huh?” The nickname already. And... aliens? “Uh, yes, First Sergeant, I've read a lot of speculation the last year or so, things about an alien spaceship crashing on Earth and little green men running around everywhere, but I didn't put much stock in it."

  "Most of it is pure shit, but you may as well know some of the stories are true. Your new assignment is to the Space Marines. This is where we process crews for the spaceships being built."

  "No shit?!” Bangler wasn't able to keep the excitement from his voice.

  "Not a bit of it. You'll be going out with others for security details. Starships. Other planets.” The senior NCO's eyes gleamed.

  Bangler was so excited he forgot to eat. “Damn! I always read a bunch of science fiction but never thought I'd be living it."

  "Yeah. You'll read about true stuff tomorrow. Two ships have already gone out."

  "When do we leave?"

  "Not for a little while yet. Scientists and other crew are being recruited and integrated. It's all a goddamn mess right now. The air force and navy are fighting over which one should control the space service. The army got the first two but that was special circumstances. I'm betting on the navy to control it eventually."

  Bangler finished the rest of the meal in a daze. Before he retired that evening Bangler found out that he would eventually be wearing one of the funny uniforms himself, with the diamond insignia on the shoulder. They belonged to the Space Marines, to which he had been provisionally assigned. But first, the unit might have an Earth based mission to perform. He would find out about that tomorrow. For the time being, he intended to get some sleep while he had the chance and let the news sink in.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 2

  Lieutenant General Caleb Washington found himself wishing he didn't have so much rank. He might be able to get into space himself then. As it was, he had to be satisfied with commanding the Cresperian Operations and R&D center in West Virginia. The big hole in the ground always felt dusty to him even though he knew it wasn't. It was just expanding so rapidly that he felt as if it should be dusty. More and more tunnels and rooms were being excavated every day to make room for more and more scientists and soldiers and sailors being processed for crews to man the starships being built. There were already a half a dozen of them under construction and the first two commissioned hadn't even returned yet. Wouldn't it be a huge cosmic joke if none of the ships worked? Terrible, but huge.

  He touched a button on his desk, an electronic marvel almost devoid of the paper high ranking officers were usually swamped with. His predecessor had made a valiant effort to keep operations as simple as possible and in the main, had succeeded. The chain of command was still rather mixed up and no one knew for sure yet which of the armed forces would ultimately command the space service. He really didn't care. He was in command of the most fascinating assignment of his career.

  "Dianne, please contact Colonel Chadwick for me,” he said when Sergeant Torres’ face appeared on his monitor. He loved the communications equipment here!

  "Yes, sir.” The alert expression on her face changed for a moment as she seemingly gazed into space, then it came back, more attentive than before. “General Washington, you just received a request to call the Pentagon. The Chairman wants to talk to you."

  Uh oh. Chadwick can wait.

  "Belay Chadwick, Dianne.” He punched off the monitor, pulled open a drawer and lifted out a phone. It was encrypted both in the hole and at the Pentagon. He punched in the number without referring to an index. He had all the numbers memorized.

  "Chairman."

  "General, this is Caleb. You needed to speak to me."

  "Right. Things going well with you?"

  "Confusing sometimes."

  "I shouldn't wonder. Listen, Caleb, our first ship just reported in. There's lots of new intelligence, including finding some bad guys out there. You'll be getting all that over the next few weeks, but right now the President has decided that White Horse is a go. And we're going ahead simultaneously with Red Horse and Black Horse. Hit ‘em all at once, so nobody has advance warning."

  "I'll be damned. Diplomacy didn't work, huh?"

  "Not with who's running State."

  Washington sighed his understanding. “All right, sir. I've already had them activate the planning as you suggested. When do you want it executed?"

  "As soon as possible. The Zeng Wu was spotted by some astronomer and she spilled the beans all over the world. The President is going to have to go public with the news we have starships, but he wants White Horse to be a done deal by then."

  "Shit. How long are we talking?"

  "He'd have it done yesterday, if it were possible. Within the next two to three days, five at the outside."

  Washington's dark skin paled slightly. “That's really pushing it, sir. Hell, we just got the last of our personnel in."

  "I know, but that's what contingency planning is for. Admiral Terhune has already ordered a Sea Wolf sub into the area. In fact it's the ship of the line, the USS Sea Wolf herself, he's putting in the North Sea. It'll be ready to evacuate the team once they bring out the Crispies."

  "Nothing to do but try if the President is this adamant about it. I take it you told him the chances of success goes way down when getting a mission of this sort off the ground with so little planning?"

  "He knows it and is prepared for the risk.” He heard a short chuckle. “At least this one has some balls. He's willing to lose the unit and will take the site out if it fails."

  "I guess that's what we get paid the big bucks for. Okay, I'll send them off. Wish us luck."

  "You got it.” The line went dead. For a moment Washington simply stared across his desk at nothing. He had been associated with the army all his life, including being an army brat when his black Oklahoma father married a white Italian beauty. He had faced the mixed race epithets and seen prejudice up close. He had been in some extremely hairy situations over the years. None of them bothered him nearly as much as the thought of losing one of his units to the expediency of politics. And while going into combat against a supposed allied country of long standing at that.

  The United Kingdom had been holding three of the aliens since their lifeboat crashed in Scotland at the same time all the other dozen or so lifeboats scattered literally over the world. At first they indicated that they were intending to share what intelligence they gained from the alien technology but somehow it had never materialized. Delay after delay and excuse after excuse was all they ever shared. He put a major part of the blame for the situation on the Secretary of State, Sandra Fellowes. President Waterman had put her in the cabinet in exchange for something he wanted that was never made clear. He supposed the woman did a fair job in normal situations but he and the rest of the military would gladly have given her a cigarette and a blindfold on the occasion of any military crisis. She was inept and helpless where fighting might occur and would much rather talk than take action, even when action was the proper course. Rumor had it she was a dyed in the wool pacifist, but he had yet to meet the woman personally, so he couldn't be certain.

  Stop the woolgathering, and do the hard thing, he told himself. You're procra
stinating. He punched a button on his desk. The image of his enlisted aide, Sergeant Dianne Torres, reappeared.

  "Yes, General?"

  "Dianne, please run down Colonel Chadwick for me and have him report as soon as possible. Highest priority."

  "I believe he's in the training area, sir. If not, I'll find him."

  "I know you will. Thank you. When he's gone, send in Lieutenant Hank Anderson.” The monitor blinked into an image of a dachshund puppy on its back with its paws in the air and tongue lolling from its smiling mouth. Would that the world were that innocently happy, he thought. A moment or two later Colonel Peter Chadwick knocked, then entered.

  "Coffee, Peter?"

  "Er. No thank you, sir. I'm about to flounder in coffee as it is."

  Washington laughed. Some days he felt the same. “I hear that one, loud and clear. All right then, let's get to business. The Chief wants the Horses on the road as soon as humanly possible."

  "Mmm.” Chadwick rubbed his chin. “Can you give me a week?"

  "NO. Not unless you absolutely have to have it. Or let me put it this way. He realizes a rush job risks failure. But if it works out that way he's prepared to take out the site and every person in it, including your people if you're not clear."

  "Wow. Shit. The man is in a hurry."

  "Right. I don't have the full details yet but the Zeng Wu is back and word is that there are bad guys out there.” He pointed up by way of illustration. “The President wants this other stuff cleared up so he can concentrate on what to do about them."

  "Is he going to try for the other aliens, too?"

  Washington shrugged. Lines formed on his brown forehead. “It certainly looks that way. All except for India, at least. Don't know why he's excluding India, and I'm not about to ask. All you're responsible for here at the moment is... well, with three of ‘em going at once, not all four, they're not calling it Operation Four Horsemen anymore. I haven't heard what the new overall code name is. Anyway, I'm going to authorize you to take Sira with you on the White Horse segment. If we get in there, she'll be helpful in communicating our intentions to them."