Overlord

by David L. Golemon

  Collins saw the academia shaking their heads in disagreement. It was a woman who stood as the buzz of conversation went around the compact room

  “Professor Kenilworth, you have something to say?” Bennett asked as he looked at the woman and then shook his head in Jack’s direction, privately indicating to him that this was an ongoing argument between the engineers and the military, something Jack knew was always prevalent between the two. He realized how closely this team resembled the makeup of the Event Group. The dark-haired woman faced the men around the table as the room became silent.

  “We have told our friends time and time again, we completely sympathize with the restraints that we have put on you in regards to training. But if we expose a large force of men outside of this complex for training and maneuvering exercises it can do nothing but attract the very element we are hiding from,” the woman said in her British accent. “As far as your vehicles and their new tracks, we can guarantee they will work in this environment.”

  It was Dave Rhodes who stood next. He nodded at the professor as she sat down.

  “The question is, are we prepared to do what is asked of us in the defense of this camp and the subsurface areas beneath us? By our understanding, Overlord must be protected until such a time as whatever she is, is ready for action.” He turned to face Jack. “General, we have not even been provided working plans of the sub areas of the ancient lake. We have no way of setting up any form of defensive line.” He turned to face the academics to the front of the table. “I must tell you, for all the brain power sitting around this table you are rather short on the knowledge of the difference between the ice Overlord is buried in, and the snow that sits above our heads. Vehicles react differently between ice and snow, new track or not. We need to know what it is we’re protecting and how to do it. This we cannot do without the plans of the frozen lake beneath our feet.”

  Jack finally stood and faced the men and women of the defensive group of Operation Overlord.

  “I haven’t had time to even brush my teeth since my arrival,” he said to some nervous laughter. He faced the three military officers who sat hoping for some form of good news from their new commander. “But I think I can safely say this: Whatever the defensive posture of this area is, I will study it, learn it, and I will get your men acquainted with their equipment some way, somehow, without upsetting your”—he faced the engineers—“our security concerns. And if we have orders to protect an area of Camp Alamo that I am not aware of, and we have no detailed plans being offered us, then I guarantee that will change, and change immediately.” This time Jack’s eyes met those of Bennett’s and didn’t waver. The three military commanders seemed satisfied for the moment.

  “I’m afraid that will have to be taken up with Lord Durnsford when he arrives, and of course with Admiral Kinkaid and Admiral Huffington—all men who won’t take too kindly to your request, General.”

  One name Jack knew. Admiral James Kinkaid was a legend in the United States Navy. Carl Everett had spoken about the man many times. He was considered the Hyman Rickover of the twenty-first century; a man who had pushed the antiquated postwar naval forces into the future with the advent of nuclear propulsion. Kinkaid was the same with his rumored involvement with trying to get the navy to be more advanced in the area of space. Jack had heard the rumor he had been shunted aside after particularly bad run-ins with more than one secretary of defense through the years.

  As for Admiral Huffington, it was known he was a tenacious Brit who hated any and all things in the nature of surface forces, a man the Royal Navy hid from sight for his addresses to parliament on the endless manufacture of ocean-going vessels that would be sunk in the outset of any major engagement against the Russians or the Chinese. Evidently the powers that be had found usefulness out of these two pariahs, and now the general would have to work with the men the rest of the world leadership and military hated and despised.

  “That I will, Sir Bennett. If they want whatever this base is hiding protected, I need to know how to do that, or their plans won’t see the light of day. I have seen the way the Grays fight and they will eventually lay all of this”—he waved a hand around the room—“to waste until there is nothing here but melted ice.”

  That seemed to get the attention of all, as the room fell silent. Eyes looked away from Jack’s angry demeanor and looked at nothing. Collins sat down.

  “Very well, I think we can adjourn for now to allow General Collins and his staff time to study his rules of engagement and start to evaluate men and equipment. General, we are all at your disposal, as we are desperately seeking the same goal: We must protect what is hidden below us at all costs, even if even we all have to face the two admirals on a daily basis.”

  Laughter erupted almost immediately from the academics as the tension was broken. The men and women stood and started making their way to the door, with many of them stopping and shaking the hands of Will, Henri, and Jack on their way by. When the military commanders nodded their thanks, it was Farbeaux who once more summed it up.

  “Tell me this isn’t a government operation. Situation normal—”

  “All fucked up,” Jack and Will said simultaneously, finishing the old military axiom for the acronym SNAFU.

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX

  NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

  Matchstick always drew a crowd of the curious whenever he ventured into the cafeteria. Many stopped by just to say a few words to the small green alien as he sat propped up in a child’s seat at the round table. Matchstick was unusually quiet as the men and women of Department 5656 moved off, wondering what had affected the small being so, as he was just staring at the large slice of cheese pizza on his tray. Denise Gilliam sat next to him, watching, sipping her coffee, and worrying about the state of mind of their guest. As her eyes moved around the almost deserted eatery, she was saddened by the fact that it was abundantly clear that most of the military personnel were absent from the complex. The cafeteria was normally a place where the Group’s academic and military arms came together and formed what the Group was known for—closeness. She shook her head and felt what Matchstick must have been feeling—a sense of loss.

  Matchstick reached out and placed one of his long fingers next to the slice of cheese pizza, touched it, and then pulled his hand away. Dr. Gilliam knew that when Matchstick wasn’t either eating or talking about eating, there was something definitely on his mind. Finally the small alien looked up at Denise, who smiled, trying to ease the being’s troubled mind. Mahjtic didn’t say anything and then returned his large eyes to the cold pizza.

  Charlie Ellenshaw cleared his throat. Both occupants of the table looked up and saw him and Pete Golding standing by the table. With a look from Pete, Denise got the hint and then reached for her coffee.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and bother Gus in the clinic. He’s particularly tired and grumpy today.”

  Matchstick looked up at the departing Denise Gilliam and then started to get down from his elevated chair. It was Charlie who sat next to him and smiled.

  “Matchstick, you have a minute?” he asked as he pushed back some of his white hair from the frames of his wire-rimmed glasses. Alice Hamilton entered and also approached the table. She held a file in her hand.

  Matchstick looked from face to face, fearing they were about to deliver bad news about Gus, but then Alice opened the folder and removed several photos. She held them while Pete explained why they were there.

  “Mahjtic,” Pete began, letting the alien know it was serious by his use of his real name. “We just received the latest deep space images from the Hubble.”

  Matchstick’s demeanor changed as he had been waiting for the deep-space imagery to come in for the past sixteen hours.

  “It seems the final phase that you warned us about has commenced.” Pete nodded that Alice should show him the black and white imagery. She slid the first picture toward the extended, elongated fingers. “We haven’t forwarded these to Dr.
Pollock as of yet because we wanted confirmation before alarming the rest of the world.” Pete shook his head sadly as he realized with the evidence they were holding, Operation Overlord, whatever that truly was, was now out of time. Matchstick looked at Pete and Charlie, then the obsidian orbs settled on Alice, who smiled and gestured that he should examine the first photo. Pete gestured that Alice should continue.

  “At 2200 hours, local time, three nuclear power plants inside Russia were raided by many support ships of the Grays.” She pointed to the picture of the blank spot near the Vistula River Nuclear facility. She placed another photo of another site. “This is a military reconnaissance view of the Hanford Nuclear Labs inside Washington State taken six hours later. A raid was conducted there; every one of two thousand personnel were killed in the attack. Very experimental energy storage units were taken and then the facility was destroyed, just as the three power-generating plants at other locations, sixteen plants in all. The support saucers entered a transit wormhole and vanished.”

  Matchstick studied the prints and then blinked several times as he took in the images. The eyes were wide and attentive as he examined them. Alice pulled two more photos from the packet.

  “As I said, these were taken by the Hubble. It shows the alien fleet at Point Hermes, still the same location and still many thousands of light-years away.” She gave Matchstick the photo. He looked at it and then at Alice. “This one is a shot, blurry though it is, of the large processing ships rejoining that fleet after they lifted off from our world and exited the atmosphere through a return wormhole.” She pointed at the fuzzy image of the larger craft as they took up station inside the formation of ships.

  Charlie noticed the grip of Mahjtic tightened on the photo.

  “Now, the largest ship of the fleet, the one that we now know, thanks to you, is what you have called their main energy-production vessel. You can see it here.” She pointed once more at the same photo. “Now, the saucers that conducted the raids at the nuclear plants inside Russia and at the Hanford facility are seen here after their arrival through another wormhole.” She gave Matchstick another photo, leaving only one inside the folder. “They have linked with this other, the largest vessel in the alien fleet. Perhaps transferring power, we don’t know. Now the disturbing thing is that you always told Garrison Lee and Niles Compton that we would know when the full-scale attack would occur—when this energy ship came up missing from the fleet. Well,” she gave Matchstick the last shot the Hubble had taken, “it has. It and what we estimate as close to five thousand of their processing and attack saucers have vanished from Point Hermes.”

  Matchstick didn’t even look at the last as he knew what it would show. Europa was always deadly accurate with her calculations. If she said these attack saucers were missing, they were indeed missing from the remainder of the alien fleet. That, coupled with the absence of the island-sized power ship, meant the Grays were on their way to Earth in force.

  “Your opinion, my friend?” Charlie asked as gently as he could. Matchstick looked up and fixed them all with his black, obsidian eyes.

  “There … is … only one … event … that could … cause … our enemy … to accelerate … their attack … schedule. The … Gray … Masters … have … found … something … that … must … be … destroyed … immediately,” he struggled to say aloud. He closed his eyes and sat silently. “You must pass this … on … to … Camp Alamo.”

  “What could be so important that they have to attack before they are fully capable of doing so?” Alice urged and then her own eyes widened as she realized what Matchstick knew.

  “Operation Overlord,” Charlie said.

  “Somehow they have learned the location of Overlord and are coming to destroy it with an overwhelming force,” Pete said as he watched Mahjtic shake in his small seat.

  “Alice, get these off to Virginia and then copy the colonel—I mean, General Collins. Virginia will know how to reach him. Tell them the jig is up and they have limited time.”

  Alice stood and then paused. “How much time do you estimate, Matchstick?”

  “Soon, very soon the Grays will strike … and then all … is … lost … for Overlord.”

  Charlie Ellenshaw reached out and took the long fingers of Matchstick’s shaking hand and squeezed. The old cryptozoologist tried to smile but found he couldn’t generate the appropriate muscle movement for that simple task, because if the truth be known he was far more scared than their small green friend.

  “Go ahead, Alice, send the message,” the acting complex director said with a faraway look.

  “I believe I should say what we suspect the Gray target is in the open, so there can be no misunderstanding,” she said.

  Pete forlornly nodded his approval.

  “Target is Overlord.”

  WALTER REED NATIONAL MILITARY MEDICAL CENTER

  BETHESDA, MARYLAND

  Virginia Pollock accepted the coffee from Lee Preston with a nod of her head. The constitutional attorney had been impressed by this tall, skinny, and very tenacious woman since he had met her. She seemed to be able to stay awake for days at a time and not lose any of her powers of conclusion or reasoning. He was curious as to what she did, exactly who this highly educated woman was, and how she came to associate herself with his friend, Alice Hamilton.

  Lee Preston was silent as he sat down next to Virginia and looked at her. She felt the man’s eyes on her and then raised one of her pointed brows in his direction. She didn’t want to talk, but she knew a question was forthcoming. She looked from the lawyer to the sleeping form of Niles Compton.

  “You and Dr. Compton have worked together for a while, I take it?” he asked in a low voice.

  Virginia sipped the coffee and grimaced, then reached out and placed it on the small table next to the window. Preston smiled and then did the same thing with his cup.

  “I know it’s bad. But with all of the security running around here with the president right down the hallway, it’s very difficult getting to the cafeteria.”

  “It’s okay; I think my kidneys are floating anyway. Thanks, though. And yes, we’ve worked together for the better part of fifteen years.” She looked from the bed to Preston. “I don’t know what I would do without him there to guide me through the things we have to do sometimes.”

  “Well, Mrs. Hamilton speaks very highly of him … and you. She told me that if you cannot be protected by my constitutional prowess, she would geld me like a worthless horse.”

  Virginia laughed for the first time in what she thought was a month. She nodded her head.

  “How would you ever come to know a woman like Alice?” she asked.

  “Well, I’ll make this short, because I only have to say one name that I am sure you are familiar with. Garrison Lee. I was a young buck on the constitutional congressional hearings on budget restraint, and it was rumored I was close to finding out some rather disconcerting information on a rather large department that was hidden deep in the power base of government.” He looked sideways at Virginia and she only winked. “Well, the rumor got out, I’m afraid, and I got a call from President Clinton at the time. He asked if I would meet with a gentleman who might have some information for me concerning said investigation. Well, being stupid and naïve and thinking the president must mean business—you see, he was going through a rough patch as far as his personal and professional conduct were concerned—so I said yes, as a favor to his office I would meet said gentleman.”

  Virginia smiled as she knew just where this story was headed.

  “We were to meet at my office, but instead as I was leaving home one morning a rather scary gentleman with a limp, a cane, and an eye patch was sitting in my car that was parked in my garage. Without looking at me he introduced himself. The name, of course, was familiar, as most heroes of the old war years are around this city. Well, he calmly asked if I preferred to go on with my professional life or go for a ride with him.”

  “I see. A long ride with Garrison
Lee. Not one I would like to take.”

  “I thought at the time that he couldn’t threaten a member of Congress like that. Well, my phone rang in the car and he nodded that I should answer it. I did. It was the president; he asked if I had met Mr. Lee and I said yes I had, as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. The president asked if I was going to work or go out riding with the man in the car. I couldn’t believe the offhanded way the president of the United States had just threatened me. Well, I told him I’ll just go to work. The president said good, that was what he would do in my place. Then he said that he suspected that all inquiries regarding the rather large budget of the National Archives would”—he smiled—“just slip by the wayside. I said yes, they would.” Then Lee reached over and pushed my automatic garage door opener. It opened and a lovely older lady walked in the garage as if she owned the place, opened the rear door, and stepped in with a brown paper bag. She handed Lee a coffee, me a coffee, and then smiled at me from the rearview mirror. We sat and had coffee, and Garrison and Alice explained to me a little of what they did for a living. And that’s how I met Mrs. Hamilton.”

  Virginia laughed out loud at the story, as it was so much Alice and Lee that she would have had nightmares for a year if it had been her. “I doubt very much if Alice would have harmed you. You see, she, like me, is a rabid constitutionalist.”

  Lee Preston turned away and looked at the ceiling of the hospital room.

  “I noticed you didn’t mention Garrison Lee in that sentence.” He turned and smiled.

  “Yes, I am aware of that.” The smile remained.

  “Well, if Mrs. Hamilton is a friend of Dr. Compton’s, he’s a friend of mine.” He turned and looked at Virginia. “And after learning a little bit about what it is you people do, even I can live to be a little light on the constitution.”