by Art Collins
Three hours later, Archibald leaned over and said in a hushed voice, “I’m not even done, but I’ve just about had it with these briefing papers. Plus, I can’t understand any of this NASA gobbledygook. How far have you gotten?”
“I finished about half an hour ago,” Willow replied. Seeing a surprised and somewhat hurt look on Archibald’s face, she quickly added, “I skipped over all of the NASA stuff, so that’s why I finished before you did.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Archibald asked, feeling a bit stupid that it had taken him so long to get through only about seventy-five percent of the briefing packet.
“Well, I didn’t want you to get in trouble with Dr. Henderson,” she answered. Then glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, she took his hand and whispered, “Okay, tell me all about what you’ve been doing. I want to know everything.”
It was non-stop conversation for the next two and a half hours. After Archibald thanked Willow for the blanket she’d sent him, the two love-struck teens took turns telling each other what had happened month-by-month since they’d last parted ways. Whenever anyone approached them, they’d quickly let go of each other’s hand. Once the person had passed, they’d hold hands again.
When Dr. Henderson announced they were beginning their long descent into Thule, Archibald leaned over to Willow and gently kissed her ear, whispering, “This has been great, but I really hope we can be alone sometime in the next few days, and I mean really alone.”
“Me, too,” she whispered back. Then she said, “I brought something with me that I thought you might want.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“The blue feather, silly,” she answered. “You asked me to keep it safe for you, and I have.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “I’m really glad you remembered, but you keep it for a while.” Then he asked, “Hey, do you remember the magic words?”
“Are you kidding?” she quietly exclaimed. “I’ll never forget Meatloaf looking at the charging Ratweil, and then yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘Nito, Vito, Samu!’ I can’t tell you how good it felt to see that ugly thing finally explode.”
“You and me both,” he laughed.
Their conversation ended, at least for the moment, when Jockabeb walked up and said, “Well, I hope you two had fun. I sure did with ‘Loose Lips’ Lynch sitting next to me. You know, that dweeb hasn’t said a word the whole flight.”
“Hey, Lynch may not want to talk, and he may be a dweeb,” Archibald replied, “but remember that he’s here to act fast and protect us if something goes wrong. By the looks of him, I think he can handle himself pretty well in a pinch.”
After the co-pilot walked through the cabin and told everyone to take their seats and fasten their seat belts, Jockabeb saluted his brother and Willow, saying, “See you in Thule.”
The descent was anything but smooth, and the closer they came to the air base, the bumpier it became. While Jockabeb thought the turbulence wasn’t as bad as during last night’s takeoff from the airport at home, he was still unnerved each time the large plane was rocked by the winds that were growing stronger with each passing minute.
When the cabin lights were dimmed, it suddenly dawned on Jockabeb that this was the first time he’d flown without Archibald sitting next to him. That’s when a tidal wave of loneliness washed over him, and it didn’t help that he was far from home and heading toward a remote outpost built on frozen tundra that was shrouded in perpetual darkness.
Two more government vans were there to meet the ETF members once the P-3 Orion landed at Thule. It wasn’t snowing, but the Airman First Class who was driving the van Archibald and Jockabeb were in said a large storm front was forecasted to arrive the following afternoon. “We get plenty of weather up here,” he explained, “and this storm’s going to be a real humdinger.”
The first thing the boys noticed when they deplaned was that it was cold—a bitter, bone-chilling cold. The driver reported that it was forty degrees below zero outside, but the wind chill made it seem twice as cold. Then he added, “If you think this is cold, just wait!”
The ETF was escorted to a conference room where a hot buffet dinner was waiting for them. Choices were limited to beef stew or meatloaf, along with mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, and canned peaches. A broad smile appeared on Meatloaf’s face, as he made a beeline for the meatloaf on the buffet table. Once everyone had taken a tray, the Operation Deep Freeze briefing began.
Dr. Michaels, a NASA scientist, first updated the ETF on some recent transmissions received from a spot about four hundred miles south of the North Pole and five hundred and fifty miles from Thule. He handed a ream of paper to Dr. Watanabe and said, “While Dr. Watanabe deciphers what these new transmissions mean, I’ll tell you about some other developments.
“First, let me cover the weather. There’s a large storm on the way. Our weather forecasters estimate that it should arrive here mid-afternoon tomorrow. That means you’ll have to leave in the morning. We’ve arranged for a specially equipped CH-47 Chinook helicopter to depart at zero eight hundred.
“Since the Chinook’s air speed will average about one hundred and eighty miles per hour on this flight, it’ll take you about three hours to reach what we’re now calling ‘Checkpoint Zulu.’ The Chinook has been outfitted with extra fuel tanks and modified so it can operate in extreme cold. It will stay at Checkpoint Zulu while you try to make contact with the extraterrestrial or extraterrestrials, whatever the case may be.
“The reason I mentioned that there may be more than one extraterrestrial is that some of my NASA colleagues back at Langley have done some additional analysis of the electromagnetic waves they received, and it now appears that there were two slightly different wave patterns. I guess you could liken them to different accents if we were talking about a spoken language.”
CH-47 Chinook
Dr. Watanabe looked up from the computer printout he’d been studying and said, “Well, if I’m deciphering this right, and I think I am, the NASA scientists might be right. It could just be an idiomatic tic within the communications configuration that doesn’t mean anything, but the most recent transmissions from Checkpoint Zulu definitely translate into ‘We are waiting. Where are you?’
“As I said, you may not want to read too much into the word ‘we,’ but it does raise the specter of having to deal with two or more alien beings when we get to Checkpoint Zulu. And if that’s the case, let’s hope they’re friendly.”
During the briefing that continued for another three hours, the duffel bags from Langley containing cold weather gear were brought in and unpacked. A medical doctor then discussed how best to deal with the frigid temperatures and howling winds they’d encounter at Checkpoint Zulu. When he outlined the signs and dire consequences of frostbite and hypothermia, Jockabeb leaned over to his brother and whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on staying outside very long.”
As soon as the briefing ended, the eight male members of the ETF were escorted to the barracks where they would spend the night. Since Dr. Henderson and Willow were given a private room in a different building, it was clear that Archibald and Willow would have to wait for another time to be, as he’d said earlier, “really alone” together.
CHAPTER 2
CHECKPOINT ZULU
Not a single nightmare interrupted Jockabeb’s sleep that night at Thule. He did, however, have one very strange dream. It was shortly after midnight when the brief dream sequence began. In it, he was standing alone on a barren, wind-blown stretch of tundra. Even though the cold weather clothing, mask, and goggles he wore left no patch of skin exposed to the elements, he was still cold.
It was dark, but the quarter-moon that was shining just above the horizon provided enough light to see. Off in the distance, the silvery moonlight outlined a figure standing erect. At first glance, Jockabeb thought it was a human being without any clothes. However, when he looked more closely, he immediately changed his m
ind.
Whatever it was, the figure’s thin, elongated body and praying mantis-shaped head definitely weren’t human. Jockabeb was more curious than scared when he took a step forward. As he moved, so did the figure. When it raised a spindly arm toward the heavens and nodded its weird-looking head, snow began to gently fall.
Just as the glimmering moonlight was about to be extinguished by gathering clouds, Jockabeb heard faint words through the darkness: “I am the one who comes in peace.”
The Chopper Flight North
The ETF members all wore their down-filled white parkas, snow pants, and boots when they were escorted to breakfast the next morning. Everyone with the exception of Lynch and the two SEALs wore snow mittens. The three security members of the team had on gloves so their fingers would be free to pull a trigger if that became necessary later in the day. Although the stocking caps, goggles, and cold weather facemasks weren’t necessary for the short walk to the mess hall, they’d be needed once they arrived at Checkpoint Zulu.
Everyone was told to eat a hearty breakfast that morning because only C-Rations, which is food sealed in tin cans, would be available until they returned to Thule. After consuming large helpings of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash brown potatoes, and toast, they received a ten-minute briefing before leaving for the helicopter.
During the briefing, Dr. Michaels reported that no transmissions had been received overnight. He also said that the storm was still on track to hit mid-afternoon, and that it had gained intensity overnight. He finally confirmed that both Langley and Thule would maintain twenty-four hour radio contact with the ETF from the moment they boarded the helicopter until the time they returned to the base.
The three teenagers had never been on a helicopter before, and they were surprised at how big the Chinook was once they entered through the rear of the craft. Archibald ended up sitting between Jockabeb and Willow. When Meatloaf sat down next to Jockabeb, he leaned over and said, “Those Air Force cooks didn’t do a bad job with dinner last night, but the meatloaf could have used more onions and paprika, don’t you think?”
Jockabeb was about to answer when an Air Force pilot wearing a cold weather jumpsuit walked into the cabin. He looked like he was straight out of an Air Force recruiting poster. Although he’d just celebrated his twenty-seventh birthday, his clean-cut, boyish good looks made him appear quite a bit younger.
“Hello everyone, I’m Major Whit McColl,” he said, introducing himself. “I’ll be your pilot on this leg of Operation Deep Freeze. Captain Dave Williams, my co-pilot, is up front going through some final pre-flight checks, and Staff Sergeant Willie Jones will also be on board with us today.
“It’ll be pretty noisy once we take off, so I want you to put on the pair of headsets hanging behind your seat. There’s an on-off switch that you can activate or deactivate whenever you want. However, I’d suggest you keep them activated so that we can communicate with you from the cockpit. You’ll see there’s a microphone on each set of headsets. The line will be open throughout the flight, so just identify yourself if you want to say anything.
“By the way, you can listen to our communication with the tower when we get ready to lift off in a few minutes. Even though the line is open, please refrain from speaking while I am communicating with the tower.
“The ride is going to get bumpy at times, particularly when we get close to Checkpoint Zulu. You won’t be able to see much because the Chinook’s cold weather retrofitting included replacing the normal windows with two small, Plexiglas portholes. I certainly hope no one gets airsick. But if you do, there are barf bags under each of your seats.
“We have enough C-Rations for a week, although I’ve been told we won’t be gone for more than a few days. We also have blankets and specially designed sleeping bags that have been tested to fifty below zero. Well, that about does it for now. Anyone have any questions?”
Hearing no response, Major McColl told everyone to sit back and enjoy the flight. Then he waved and made his way to the cockpit where he took the seat to the left of his co-pilot.
Major McColl and Captain Williams
Jockabeb was both anxious and excited when he turned on his microphone and slipped the headset over his stocking cap. Archibald also felt excitement as he adjusted his headset, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that any private conversation with Willow was now out of the question, at least during the flight.
When the Chinook’s large fore and aft propellers began to rotate, vibrations could be felt throughout the cabin. Not long after, Major McColl’s voice was heard through the headphones. “Thule Control Tower, this is Whiskey-Niner-Zero requesting clearance to depart on heading three-four-zero.”
“Whiskey-Niner-Zero, this is Thule Control Tower,” came back immediately. “You are cleared for takeoff on heading three-four-zero.” Then the air traffic control operator who was a good friend of Major McColl added, “Good luck, Major.”
“Roger that!” was the last thing said by Major McColl before the Chinook slowly lifted off and then quickly flew into the darkness.
During the next several hours, the three PSA scientists shared their thoughts on what the ETF might find once they arrived at Checkpoint Zulu. Listening on the open line, the three teenagers were fascinated by what they heard, even though they didn’t understand many of the technical terms that were bandied about.
The three scientists agreed that if they did encounter extraterrestrials, the aliens would be highly intelligent, given the sophistication of the communications configuration. They also concluded that the extraterrestrials must come from a very cold climate because they were heading toward one of the coldest places on Earth at the coldest time of year. However, they all had different opinions as to where the extraterrestrials could be from.
Professor Eberstark thought the alien craft might have departed from one of Saturn’s many moons. The sixth planet from the sun was the second largest in the Solar System after Jupiter, and had more than sixty moons.
Dr. Watanabe believed the most likely home for the extraterrestrials might very well be the fourth planet from the Sun, Mars. While not as close to Earth as Venus, many other scientists had postulated over the years that the conditions on Mars had the best chance of supporting life as we know it.
Dr. Henderson had dismissed all the planets and moons in our Solar System. Her view was that one of the four planets in the planetary system that revolved around the Gliese 876 star could be a reasonable home for the extraterrestrials. While admitting that it would have taken fifteen light-years for an alien craft to arrive from there, she still thought it was feasible that life might exist outside our Solar System, and if that was the case, her choice was the closest planetary system.
When Dr. Henderson finished outlining her theory, Jockabeb spoke into his mike and asked for some clarification. “Dr. Henderson, this is Jockabeb. Could you tell me again what a light-year is?”
“Sure,” she answered. “A light-year is about six trillion miles, meaning that light can travel almost six trillion miles in one year. So, for example, if you would go outside at night and shine a flashlight at the sky, that beam of light would travel about six trillion miles over the next year.
“To show you how far that is, the moon is only one-quarter of a million miles away, while the sun is over ninety million miles away, or eight light-minutes. That’s not light-years, it’s light-minutes! And the sun and the moon are pretty far away. So when we say that the extraterrestrials traveled fifteen light-years, we mean that they traveled almost ninety trillion miles.
“Listen, Jockabeb, I know it sounds like a long way, but maybe these extraterrestrials have perfected some sort of time travel that allows them to be transported long distances in a short amount of time.”
Dr. Henderson’s last comment immediately set off another spirited debate as to whether or not time travel was actually possible. Drs. Henderson and Watanabe certainly thought the concept was feasible. Professor Eberstark, on the other hand, called
the idea “pure rubbish.”
Major McColl had been right when he’d said that it might get bumpy as they approached Checkpoint Zulu. Ten minutes out, the Chinook started to shake as it was battered by heavy winds at the leading edge of the approaching storm.
Both Major McColl and Captain Williams thought their eyes were playing tricks on them when they were an eighth of a mile from touchdown. Through the first wave of snow that was just blowing in, the pilots saw a light blue glow off in the distance.
Major McColl’s voice was heard on the open line moments later when he said, “Dr. Henderson, I think you better come up to the cockpit right away.”
By the time Dr. Henderson unbuckled her seat belt and made her way forward, the pilots had lost control of the Chinook. She was alarmed when she poked her head into the cockpit and saw Major McColl turn and, covering his microphone, say, “Someone or something is flying our chopper, and it’s not us!”
When Captain Williams tried to contact Thule and heard only static, he shook his head and, also covering his microphone, said, “Well, whatever or whoever is controlling our chopper sure doesn’t want us communicating back to base.”
The Chinook continued its bumpy descent toward Checkpoint Zulu. Having heard most of the recent exchange in the cockpit, the passengers in the main cabin looked at each other with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
Up to this point, everything had been a guessing game. Now, however, theory was rapidly becoming reality—a stark reality that the sophisticated Air Force chopper was now being controlled by an unknown force somewhere out in the vast, windswept tundra. But by whom and from where were still anybody’s guess!
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