“Okay, but keep them in the flight pattern of the airlines until we can verify location. I can’t have you firing ten missiles unless I know what they’re going to hit if the UFO sidesteps them. We don’t want to take out any populated areas. Culpable deniability doesn’t work here.”
The plan was set, now it was a waiting game.
Agent Woods spent a few hours on the local FBI bureau computers, cross-referencing the devastation, eyewitness accounts, infrared, and description of the UFO, with all the Air Force Blue Book files. Only one small file caught his eye and he was getting tired and hungry. He called Agent Donemore and asked her if she was getting anywhere and if not, it was time to eat. She agreed and mentioned to Al that he could go with them or they could bring something back. “You guys go. I want to do another test. Bring me back whatever Agent Woods orders. He is such an interesting guy that I’m sure I’ll enjoy his preferences in food,” Al suggested. “I highly recommend Strabe’s Seafood or Air Fighter Squadron 235, both on Colonial Drive.”
Woods and Donemore decided to meet at Air Fighter Squadron 235, because the name appealed to Woods and that Donemore had mentioned that it was Jeff’s favorite spot.
Jeff and Janet arrived at Air Fighter Squadron 235 at 8:00 p.m. and got a table near the glass windows overlooking the runway and taxiways of the airport. This unique and relaxing restaurant had pictures decorating the wall of all the old fighter planes. You could spend an evening just visualizing in your mind what these old aircraft had accomplished in their heyday. Yet compared to the speed and technology of today’s stealth and jet fighters, it was a fantasy of the mind.
After they each ordered a glass of wine, Janet commented on the restaurant. “Nice, not too nice, good view of the airport and all the runway lights. Pretty this time of night. The pictures on the wall show that aviation has come a long way in a short time. Can you imagine fighting this UFO with one of those old prop fighters?”
“This is one of my favorite spots to eat, relax and reminisce. I was in the Air Force and it’s kind of special to me. But let’s not talk about UFOs right now, as this may be the last time we have to ourselves before the shit hits the fan. I say we enjoy the view and dinner. I highly recommend the crab cakes, probably a whole lot better than what you get up in Washington.”
They drank wine, exchanged past experiences, enjoyed the crab cakes, watched small corporate jets land, and drank more wine. They were holding hands when Woods and Donemore walked in.
“Well it looks like only The General is minding the store. Mind if we join you?” Agent Woods asked.
“Not at all,” Jeff said. “I bet my buddy, Al, suggested this place to you. It’s our favorite place to relax.”
“Your right,” Donemore said. “Al mentioned it and Woods agreed to meet me here on the unique name alone. He’s always interested in anything that flies, as long as it doesn’t end up in his food.”
Woods replied, “Donemore likes to kid me about flying objects, but I put the question to all of you. Judging from the pictures on the wall alone, we have come so far so fast with our own technology, doesn’t it make you wonder if some outside force is helping us along?”
Jeff interrupted with purpose, “We decided not to talk ‘shop’ tonight, as it might be our last night on Earth, before General Stormer hits the buttons that is. We just finished dinner and are about to order dessert. Why don’t you guys order a drink and we can get acquainted.” Jeff flagged down their waiter and ordered a round of drinks for everyone, plus two appetizers and desserts.
They talked about their personal lives and found they had a lot in common. All in all, it was a good night, and after finishing with dessert, Jeff said they were going to head out and let the two FBI Agents enjoy their dinners. Agent Woods interjected, “Jeff, before you go, I know you don’t want to talk shop, but do me a favor and think back each time you saw this UFO—was there anything unique or unusual that you saw and might have overlooked?”
Jeff thought awhile then said, “When you mentioned unusual, for some reason I keep seeing the lightning hitting this thing instead of going to the ground or cloud-to-cloud. Now that I think about it, all the strikes seemed to hit the rods on top of the spacecraft.”
Woods asked, “Why is that unusual?”
“Well, in a normal thunderstorm, approximately eighty percent of the lightning goes from one side to the other, inside the storm. It’s called inter-cloud lightning. The other twenty percent goes from the clouds to ground or reverse.”
Woods said, “Can you review your Doppler radar from each time there was devastation, to pick up lightning strikes and see if any actually hit the ground? Maybe that could be another way of tracking this thing, seeing an area with lightning but no ground strikes.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t work that way,” Jeff added. “The National Lightning Detection Network (NLDN) has a network of electromagnetic sensors placed all around the country. Once a lightning strike is detected, three sensors triangulate the exact location and feed to the computers.
“We then can overlay their locations onto our local map and show where the lightning is exactly. This helps our weather people to put out a warning of sever lightning in any given area. But the NLDN can’t tell what type of lightning it is. I can check with the Lightning Mapping Sensor Center.
“They use a satellite to pickup lightning around the world, which can pinpoint a storm and tell exactly what kind of lightning, inter-cloud, intra-cloud or cloud-to-ground.
“I’ll check it out tomorrow and see if they have our storms on file. Maybe you’re right—we could use that as another tool to find this thing.
“You guys enjoy your meal and relax. I didn’t pickup anything on radar before we left, and told The General I didn’t think anything would happen tonight. But tomorrow from noon on we should be on full alert.”
After Jeff and Janet had left, Donemore said, “Woods, what was that all about? Didn’t want to talk shop?
“But you pushed this lightning-strike thing anyway. Why?”
Woods replied, “There is a Blue Book file that mentions how an eye witness described a large object being bombarded by lightning and he thought the object was going to be fried by the fifty thousand degree heat that lightning creates.
“Mind you, there was no one to verify his sighting and no further sightings, so the Air Force brushed it off as an optical illusion created by reflections of the lightning off the rain.
“I wanted to see if Jeff saw the same thing without any coaching from me.”
6
JEFF WAS BOTHERED BY THE POSSIBLE REPEAT OF last night’s plans, and said to Janet as he got into the car, “The TV station is a lot closer to my house than your hotel room. Do you want to do the opposite of what we did last night? I can bring you out to the airport to grab a change of clothes, then head back to my place. Tomorrow we can get a little extra sleep instead of driving all over the place.”
“Sounds good to me,” Janet replied.
At 7:00 a.m. General Stormer was at the control center checking on the current status, when Agent Woods and Donemore arrived. “I guess Jeff was right, as nothing showed without the thunderstorms present. Did you guys find out anything that can help with this situation?”
Woods replied, “I mentioned one idea to Jeff that he was going to check on this morning. It might give us another way to help us locate the UFO. I also think you should contact the CIA. I’ve heard they’re working on a super satellite that can see through clouds, any kind of clouds. They can pickup people moving on clear days, but in the past have been hindered by storm fronts. The latest satellite is supposed to solve that problem.”
“It’s already launched, in position over Iraq and being tested there. I know about it because they needed the Air Force to fly in under the storms and film the area. Why? To compare pictures to see if the satellite is properly working.”
“So much for keeping things top secret!” Stormer said. “No one is supposed to know about that satelli
te, Woods!”
“Well, I read my Sunday addition of ‘Top Secrets in the CIA,’ but kidding aside, if the satellite is already up there can it be repositioned over central Florida?” Woods asked.
“Of course I’ll check, but before I do, how do you think this can help us?” the General asked.
“I’m sure this satellite has to have an infrared lens for night time surveillance. If positioned over our area at night, maybe it could see the UFO, plain and simple,” Woods explained.
“It’s a damn good idea. I don’t know how you know these things, Woods, but right now I’m glad you do. I’ll place that call, but keep this satellite stuff to yourself,” Stormer said loudly.
Agent Donemore knew that Stormer’s last statement was directed at her because no one else was within listening distance.
At 8:00 a.m., everyone was seated and information was exchanged. Nothing new had happened overnight, but Jeff indicated that there was a strong sea breeze blowing and storms were building already in isolated areas. Jeff also reported placing a call to the LMSC and they were going to see if they had any information on the three storms. General Stormer told everyone to continue the jobs assigned yesterday and if anything happened he wanted them back here ASAP with information.
At 12:30 p.m. Jeff was monitoring the screen in the control room, watching very carefully a storm cell building over southern Osceola County. He told The General to at least bring one mobile unit in on the Florida Turnpike to be in the same vicinity as the building storm cell. Jeff prayed something would happen with this storm because the area was desolate and no one would even notice if they had to shoot down an alien ship the size of Rhode Island. The General told Jeff two units were on the way and for him to direct them wherever he wanted the initial positioning.
Jeff did not consider himself a lucky guy. He never won even three numbers on the Lottery, but that all changed when the speakerphone echoed on the table. “Mobile Blue Two to Bad Rain One. We have a visual sighting using infrared only. I repeat we have visual using infrared—not by the naked eye or radar. Instructions please.”
“This is Bad Rain One, does Mobile Blue One have the same visual?”
“Affirmative, Bad Rain One.”
“Jeff, bring up the location on the screen. Is this area populated?” the General shouted.”
“It’s just east of the Florida Turnpike, deserted area for miles. We couldn’t ask for a better place to engage.” Jeff pointed to the area on the screen.
“Mobile Blue Two, this is Bad Rain One. Program the missiles for the co-ordinates your computers have it at. As long as you’re firing anywhere eastward from your launch point, you have authorization to fire ASAP. If you miss, at least the missiles will land in the Atlantic Ocean. Talk me through everything as soon as you launch.”
Silence took over in the room, seeming an eternity but actually only seconds before General Stormer yelled, “Notify everyone to prepare for it coming down in south Osceola County. I want everyone moving the second we get conformation the object has been hit and is heading down.
“Bad Rain One to Air Blue One, object has been sighted at co-ordinates 105.2E, 22.6S. Keep yourself out of the way, so we don’t scare this thing off, but if the mobile units miss I want you there in seconds of my command.
“Jeff, can you bring up all the roads in the area so I can see how to get to this thing if we bring it down?”
Jeff brought up a wide view of the area. You could see the storm cell and the desolate area it was over. He zoomed in one notch to bring other roads besides the Florida Turnpike into view. This was orange grove country, so there were few access roads off the turnpike, a lot of dirt roads around the groves. No problem was foreseen for the FBI and EPA to pull off the turnpike and break through fences leading to these dirt roads.
“Bad Rain One, this is Mobile Blue Two, five missiles have been launched and are on the way from Mobile Blue One—and five from us—estimated time to impact, ten seconds. Object doesn’t seem to be aware it’s being fired on. Five, four, three, two, one.”
“We have impact—
“Confirm all ten missiles have hit the target. Even without infrared, sir, we have a visual of tremendous explosions after the missiles hit. This might be a good sign because we couldn’t see the target with the naked eye before missile impact. Can’t see if target is destroyed, heading down or unaffected due to the smoke from the explosions,” Mobile Blue announced.
“Bad Rain One to Air Blue One and Two, break formation and head to target area for visual confirmation. Be careful, target may not be immobile and could be capable of firing back. Contact me as soon as you see anything.”
“Mobile Blue Two, to Bad Rain One, target in sight, with and without infrared. No visual damage, smoke coming from one side of it, but object still seemingly floating along and not heading down. By now if the intent was to leave the area, it would have done so. Suggest you have F-10s finish this thing off.”
“Affirmative, Mobile Blue Two. Nice shooting. Bad Rain One to Air Blue One and Two, once you have visual, you have authorization to fire at will. We don’t want this thing to get away.”
“Bad Rain One, we have visual, there is tremendous damage to one side and object seems to be losing altitude, I think it’s headed down, sir.”
“Bullshit, think and seems doesn’t cut it. Fire at will to make sure the alien intruder is heading down, and take all precautions and nothing for granted. The ship might still be capable of firing on you.”
“Air Blue One to Air Blue Two, you heard the boss, let’s hit it from different sides. If something happens to one of us, maybe the other will be able to launch everything against it.”
“Affirmative Air Blue One, I’ll take the south side, good luck.”
General Stormer stood in the control room, carefully listing to the conversation as it came across on the conference table speakerphone. The two F-10s made their run on the north and south side of the object. As they approached, they couldn’t believe the size of the alien craft and noticed the mobile units had only hit one section of it, but had done a lot of damage to that side of the craft. They would hit it again on two different sides, plus on top and hope it would do the job.
After both jets fired their Mavericks, they increased altitude to release two thousand-pound GP Bombs on the top of the alien craft. After both delivered their payload, they came around again for a second bombing run.
“Air Blue One to Bad Rain One. Target is damaged and heading down. Estimated impact in thirty seconds at coordinates 107.4E, 94.6N. Do you wish us to make another run to reconfirm?”
“Hold your fire, we don’t want to destroy it if we can help it. Our people need to get into it and hopefully find an answer to the destruction it was creating. Follow it down to make sure it’s disabled and on the ground. If it changes course, hit it again. Confirm ground impact,” General Stormer said.
Agents Woods and Donemore had arrived at the control room within minutes after being notified the object had been sighted. The General turned to them and said, “My job was to bring it down. You guys are in control now. Get your team to the site and do what you must. In case you’re right, Woods, and there’s more than one of these things, I’ll continue to monitor everything from here. Stay in touch.”
Jeff said, “I know exactly where it came down. Do you want me to take you guys to it?”
The General said, “Jeff, as long as you have a back-up here to help me, I think you should go. You know the area and can show the FBI team the quickest way there. Also, take Janet along to let her see what she might be up against if there are more of these things and we bring one down in a city.
“Agent Woods, I’ll notify Clare to meet you with her team to close off the area. Stay in contact with her so she’ll know where you are.”
Jeff and Janet drove south on the Florida Turnpike, followed by a convoy that included Agents Woods, Donemore and a variety of other FBI vehicles with scientist and specialists aboard. As they approache
d the co-ordinates, Jeff knew they had to cross the medium and head into the orange groves on the eastside. He called Agent Woods and said that the next dirt road he spotted they would need a vehicle to go in front of them and take down the wire fence adjacent to the highway.
Within minutes, Jeff saw a service road in the orange groves heading east. As he slowed on the left side of the highway, he noticed one of the FBI vehicles—like one of those monster trucks you see at Tractor Pulls, cut in front of him, cross the medium and simply plowed flat the protective fence. Since no traffic was heading north on this desolate area of the turnpike, Jeff and the rest of the convoy followed big foot’s lead.
Once on the dirt road, the monster four-wheeler pulled over and let Jeff take the lead again. They went approximately three miles on the dirt road, only capable of seeing straight ahead because of the orange trees on each side. Jeff was beginning to get itchy, he knew they were close but worried he would drive by where the pilot said it came down. A few seconds later, his car entered a huge area where all the orange trees had been plowed over. Jeff slowed and as he looked to the left, he saw a clear path of crushed orange trees, then nothing but bare ground leading up to the huge, fully intact alien spacecraft. It had come down level, almost like it glided slowly to the ground. There were no signs of a tumbling, turning crash or debris. Maybe it still had some control over its ability to maneuver, and they would soon find out.
The monster truck pushed a path in between the orange trees and out into the open, newly cleared area. The rest of the vehicles followed and as they pulled out of the grove, they were in awe at the size of what they saw. The ship was laying flat, still smoking, a huge opening where the first mobile units missiles must have hit. The top, with all its towering rods seemed to have escaped undamaged.
“General Stormer, this is Agent Woods. Just wanted to let you know we’re on site and ready to try and board the craft. Everything looks okay so far, I’ll keep you informed.”
BAD RAIN: A SCI-FICTION THRILLER Page 7
