by William Lee
The steward, a bald, middle aged man, stood in the middle of the room wearing black cargo pants and button-down shirt like the security forces they had seen earlier. He had introduced himself as Jim Connor and mentioned that he was former Special Forces.
“Gentlemen, you will find a fully stocked bathroom in each of the bedrooms. We have already placed three days’ worth of clothes in the closets for you. If any of the sizes are wrong, just let us know. The DFAC is staffed with a chef during normal meal times, but if you get hungry, feel free to go there any time. You are the only squad here this week, so the place will be pretty quiet.”
“I think that covers it,” Snap said. “Thank you. So, where can we get something to eat?”
“Out the door, turn right, and it’s down the hall on the left, across from the gym.” Jim pointed down the hall.
“Thanks,” Snap said as Jim turned to leave.
“Let’s head down to the mess hall and check it out,” Lieutenant Neal West said to Snap. Neal was the only other officer in the squad.
“Sound good to me,” Snap replied.
The two men walked down the hotel-like hallway, passing several doors that led to unoccupied sleeping quarters. Unlike the large cavernous areas, the crew’s quarters were not carved from rough granite. Rather, the corridors had nice finished walls and were decorated with modern wallpaper and prints of landscapes. If it were not for the fact that there were no windows, you could forget you were underground. The hallway opened into a small lobby. Off to the left was a small but functional mess hall; to the right was the steward’s quarters and gym.
“I wonder if the chef is still on duty?” Neal asked.
“Let’s see,” Snap responded, as they walked into the dining room area that had twelve rectangular tables, surrounded by armless metal chairs. The stainless-steel kitchen was partially open to the dining room, with a pass through and an extra-wide doorway.
“Hello.” Snap announced their presence as they entered the commercial kitchen. In the middle of the kitchen stood a stainless-steel island with an impressive array of pots and pans hanging from a rack attached to the ceiling.
“Good evening, Sir.” Another middle-aged man emerged from around the corner, wiping his hands on a dish towel. The chef was of average height and build, and was wearing black beneath his white apron and hair net.
“Evening, Chef, I’m Lieutenant West, and this is Major Slade. We are going to be staying here for a few nights.”
“I know. I’m Chef Parker. You can just call me Chef if you like.” Chef extended his hand to Snap. Chef had a firm handshake, and made solid eye contact.
“Good to meet you Chef. So, what’s for dinner tonight?” Snap asked, returning the firm handshake. It was obvious to Snap that Chef was more than a simple fry cook.
“Well, Major, since there’s only twelve of you here tonight, I thought I would just cook something to order. I have a menu here, but if you would like something special, just let me know, and I will see if I can whip it up for you.”
“Excellent,” Snap said, as he picked up the laminated one-page menu. All your basic pub food was available, plus a couple of main entrees.
“What do you recommend?” Snap asked as he glanced over the menu.
“I make a mean seared filet mignon with a caramelized onion curry sauce. Alongside it, I place a healthy serving of asparagus in a smooth hollandaise sauce. Then, we finish the evening off with bananas foster a la mode,” the chef said, almost gleefully.
“That sounds delicious. I will have that.” Snap handed Chef the menu. “You got a beer around here?”
Chef pointed at refrigerator in the dining hall that was stocked full of a variety of beer. Snap and Neal each grabbed one and headed back into the kitchen to talk to Chef.
“So how long you been working here on Level 15?” Snap asked, as he took a swig from the brown bottle.
A slight look of concern crossed Chef’s narrow face. He paused for a moment, as if to reflect, and said, “Over 20 years.”
“Wow, you have been a Chef for 20 years?” Snap asked, obviously surprised.
“No. I started out like you, an operator. The work took a toll on my body; so, they moved me to the kitchen.”
“You didn’t want to leave Level 15 and try something different, you know, in the private sector?” Neal asked.
Chef looked puzzled for a minute, as if that thought had never crossed his mind, then said, “Nah. I wanted to stick around here.”
“Place looks empty, where does everyone else eat?” Neal asked.
Chef shuffled his feet and fumbled with a bloody steak, “I don’t serve them. They have their own quarters and DFAC. I only work in the temporary guest quarters.”
“Compartmentalization?” Snap asked.
“Yes Sir. They don’t want the guests in the permanent resident section. Afraid they might overhear something they shouldn’t.” Chef started tossing some ingredients together in a mixing bowl.
A few more members of Lightning Squad stumbled in and placed orders. Chef was getting busy flipping burgers, grilling steaks and operating the deep fryer. Snap and Neal went to the linen clad table in the back of the dining room to wait for their steaks.
“Wow, two days ago we were just a regular squad, training to fight radicalized terrorists in the Middle East, and now, we find out the world is crawling with aliens,” Neal said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean Holy Fucking Shit. This is like some freaking science fiction horror movie,” Neal said in a whisper.
“I know, it’s pretty unbelievable. Ever since the forties, the government has been covering up all this shit. I’m sure you have noticed that ever since we saw the Large Gray, what did they call him? An Ondagra? We have not been allowed out of their sight? Much less been permitted to call anyone,” Snap said.
“Did you know about any of this prior to yesterday, Major?” West asked.
“Nope, I was in the dark, just like the rest of you.” Snap took another sip of his beer.
“How do you think they have been keeping this a secret for the last 70 years? I get that they keep the circle small, but still. No one spills the beans? After 70 years?” West shook his head in disbelief.
“But there have been leaks and plenty of them. Look at all the stuff on the internet about astronauts and pilots claiming to have seen saucer shaped discs and aliens from other worlds. Those pilots are immediately discredited and made to look like clowns. Look at all the whistle blowers that died in mysterious accidents after giving an interview about Area 51 or some other above top-secret project.” Snap made fist a with one hand and leaned his chin onto it.
“Yeah, I always thought those guys were just crazy.”
Snap shook his head in disagreement. “They can’t all be crazy. There are too many of them. Generals, admirals, astronauts, scientists, and presidents have all confirmed the existence of, not only aliens, but also the cover up. They can’t all be wrong, especially when they risked their own careers to disclose the truth. It all makes sense now.”
The last of the squad arrived and were seated at the other tables. None of the enlisted men sat with Snap or West. Snap stood up, “You want another beer?”
“Yes Sir.”
Snap returned with two more cold ones. “Do you think they are telling us everything? I mean, about the Large Grays.”
Neal took a sip of his beer, rocked back on the rear legs of his chair, and took a deep breath, “No, definitely not.”
“According to the scientist that spoke this afternoon, we don’t know how many there are, where they are located, or why they are here. Hell, Ater is one of them, and he could not give us a straight answer as to what their goals are, or why they are here.”
“Yeah, he knows a hell of a lot more than he is telling us. How could he not know exactly how many there are, why they’re here, and where their bases are?” Snap asked.
“I liked it when you asked if there were any other aliens visiting the planet. Did you see the l
ook on his long, gray face?” West laughed.
“Yeah, like, how could he not have seen that question coming?” Snap smirked.
“Did you believe his answer? That there are no other aliens on the planet but the Large Grays?”
“Well, if you believe the internet, and I’m starting to, then you have to assume they are all full of shit.”
West said, “So, we now know that aliens exist, our government has been in contact with them for years; they have been actively covering up their existence for decades, and even now, after telling us about them, they are still lying.”
“Yep that about sums it up.” Snap raised his beer bottle. West tipped his bottle toward Snap’s brew as if to giver a toast. They chuckled.
“I think we are FUBARed.”
“Yes Sir.”
Dinner was served by Chef. The steaks, smothered in caramelized onions, came out on piping hot white china plates.
“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Chef said.
“This looks great; I think we will be fine,” Snap replied.
“I’ll be out later to prepare your bananas foster.”
“I can’t wait.” West said.
Chef walked toward one of the other tables surrounded by four soldiers that had mistakenly ordered the mushroom smothered hamburger.
“Those guys should have ordered the filet mignon,” Snap said with a laugh.
“Yeah, they don’t know what they are missing.” Neal sat up in his chair, “On a serious note, though, during orientation, they warned us that disclosing anything we learn about extraterrestrials is punishable by death. We don’t even get a trial. Does that bother you?” Neal pondered.
“Yes, of course. But that’s not what worries me the most. I’m pretty sure I can keep my mouth shut. What worries me the most is the fact that I know they are keeping a lot of secrets from us. There is no way that they don’t have any idea how many they are, or where they are when they got at least one of them right here on this base,” Snap said.
“We are the only squad here right now? We have been here all day; this place is designed for at least six squads. Have you seen any other soldiers? Plenty of scientists, spooks, techs, but not one combat solider, except us. Where are they?”
“You think they are all in combat, right now?” Snap asked, while chewing a stalk of tender asparagus.
“Could be, for all we know, there could be a full-blown against the Ondagra, and we don’t even know it.” Neal took another bite of his smothered steak.
“So, to what do you attribute all the rapid advancement of technology? Roswell? Or, do you think that aliens have been working with the government to develop the tech?” Snap asked.
“I definitely think alien technology was involved, whether it be crashed saucers or alien intervention, I don’t know. At the very minimum, you have Ater here for a couple of decades helping develop tech.”
“I just get this feeling that there is more to the story, a lot more,” Snap said, as he slowly cut his filet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lightning Squad reported to the training room the next morning. Ater was already there when they walked in.
“Good Morning, Ater,” Snap called out from the door, as he entered the large room.
“Gentlemen, we have an exciting day planned for you. Today we will be training on the Fixed-wing Individual Glider Assault System, or FIGAS for short. We will not be in a hologram room or simulation. Today, we will be going up in a plane and jumping without a parachute. Literally,” Ater said eustatically.
The men looked at each other, unsure of what to think.
Before any of them could object, Ater waived his hand, and a three-dimensional holographic image of a FIGAS appeared before the men. The image was an eight-foot-long wing with two small jets attached to the bottom of the wing. There was no fuselage, just a harness system that allowed a man to put it on, like a camper would wear a backpack.
Ater continued, “This fixed wing jet pack will allow you controlled flight to your destination from the plane. Unlike a parachute, which merely allows you to float to the ground, this will allow you to fly, up to 10 miles to your chosen destination. This is far superior to a parachute because the pilot does not have to be as exact in dropping you and you, can fly to better landing zones in a combat situation.”
“The FIGAS offers a one-way trip. It will not take off from the ground. It must be launched from a high point and glide, under power, to its landing zone. The FIGAS does not have its own power source, it attaches to the Modular Micro Fusion Reactor built into your FALOS armor. The guidance systems of the FIGAS are all integrated into the HUD built into the helmet of your FALOS armor.”
“Since we are using the fusion reactor in our FALOS suit to power the jet wing, will we still be able to fire our laser while in flight?” Snap asked.
“Good question. It is true that constant use of the laser places a strain on the fusion reactor. However, our scientists have been able to adjust the laser’s power requirements while in flight. Essentially, the laser will be reduced to 50 kilowatts while in flight, or roughly half power. Still powerful enough to dispatch soft ground forces.”
Snap nodded his head, “That will work.”
“How hard is it to fly?” Williams asked.
“It’s as easy as falling out of an airplane. The jet wing is fully voice-command controlled. Flight data will appear in the HUD. You can use your laser targeting system and flight control systems at the same time. The wing has a built in 3-axis gyro that automatically engages the thrusters to ensure you are upright and stable; all you have to do is adjust for speed and direction.”
After a few hours of training in the hologram room, the men headed to the lockers to put on their FALOS suits. Each man had his own suit that was uniquely fitted to not only his body, but his voice commands. While not being worn, the FALOS armor was able to stand on its own with the weight of the suit being held up by the exoskeleton. The micro modular fusion reactor could go months without being refueled, as the alien technology made it extremely efficient.
Snap stepped up to his FALOS suit, which looked almost like a robot, standing all on its own. It was a completely self-contained unit, the heavy armor resting on the titanium exoskeleton. The suit was designed to anticipate the operator’s movements and assist with lifting heavy loads or executing preprogrammed maneuvers. If the operator wanted to override any preprogrammed functions, there was a voice command feature.
The suit’s natural color was white, but it would automatically change colors to blend in with the environment. If the operator was in the desert, it would change to a sandy color, if in the jungle, to green. The suit had thousands of miniature light-emitting diodes built into the armor that would project an image on the suit. In an urban setting, the suit could project one of hundreds of preprogrammed images, or it could project an image from the local setting. It did not make the operator completely invisible, but it made the operator difficult to see in any environment.
The suit came with a laser rifle that could be attached to the modular micro fusion reactor for non-stop fire power. When the laser was not in use, it would be charging. The laser was capable of firing 200 shots when fully powered. If the power in the laser were depleted in combat, it could be reattached to the fusion reactor and fired without being powered up.
The head up display built into his helmet allowed for communications with his men, headquarters, and other devices. The HUD could track the enemy’s movements, friendlies’ movements, his vital signs, targeting, and power supply, and it could interface with other equipment, like the jet wing.
Equipping the armor took time. First, there was a carbon boride fiber under suit, similar to a diver’s wet suit. This was bullet resistant and would act to control the temperature of his body. Then, the largest part of the suit, a single piece of armor that covered his chest, back, and torso, was called the main unit. The arms and legs attached next, locking into the main unit. The weight
of the main unit and helmet were supported by the leg units through a mechanical spine in the back of the suit that held it all together.
While the suit took several minutes to put on and run a complete system check, it did have a manual quick release lever if the operator had to exit the suit in a hurry. Once in the suit, the operator was 80 percent covered in advanced, nearly impenetrable armor. The suit had two weaknesses. First, it was not equipped for swimming or being in deep water. Second, and the more troubling weakness, was that it was susceptible to failure upon a direct hit from an Electromagnetic Pulse weapon, or EMP for short.
After locking his helmet into place and powering up the suit, Snap ran a diagnostic on all systems. The head up display showed each critical system in red until it was checked; then it turned green to indicate it was in working order. Even though the suit weighed several hundred pounds, its design made it seem weightless.
Snap turned to West, “Neal, you all good?”
“Yes Sir. All systems go.”
Snap looked around and saw that all his men were finishing up their initial checks. Their helmets covered their heads completely; so, all talking was done through the communications device. When Snap spoke, the default setting was for the sound of his voice to be heard in all of his men’s helmets. If Snap wished to speak to only one of his men, he would start by saying that man’s name. The communications system had an artificial intelligence component that determined to whom one was speaking based on word content, voice inflection, geographic proximity and retinal monitoring.”
“Alright men, let’s go learn how to fly.”
Lightning Squad climbed into a large troop transport vehicle designed to carry a squad of men wearing FALOS armor. Behind them was Ater’s personal SUV. He too, was wearing full battle armor. The two vehicles exited Level 15 and drove up the circular ramp to the mouth of the Granite Peak Installation bunker. It was the first time the men had seen sunlight in a couple of days. They drove the short distance from the mouth of the tunnel to a runway used exclusively for GPI operations.
