by William Lee
The flight from Russia to Antarctica was long and lonely. He had no one to whom he could talk. Occasionally, Calidus called for a status update. He had been over the ice shelf of Antarctica for a while. At over 5 million square miles, Antarctica is nearly twice the size of Australia, and it officially has less than 5,000 human inhabitants.
Mike flew the C-17 for hours over the snowy mountain ranges to the GPS coordinates he had received. The Russian escort had turned back because they lacked fuel for the entire journey. Except for the stiffening corpses behind him, he was alone, above one of the most remote places on Earth.
Mike’s heart skipped a beat and he began to panic as he approached the location where he was supposed to begin his decent. He saw nothing but flat empty desert. No buildings. No runway. No people. No signs of life. He knew the Russians wanted the cargo; there was no way they would trick him into flying to the middle of nowhere, but, where were they?
His radio squawked to life for the first time in hours, “This is flight control. You are cleared for landing. Begin your decent now.”
Mike followed instructions, but asked, “I don’t see the runway, or anything for that matter.”
“I know this is your first time landing here. You won’t see anything, it will look like you are crashing to the ground, but you won’t. Follow my instructions precisely, ignore what you are seeing, and you will be fine. The ground will open for you. You will need to come in faster than you would think.”
Mike followed the instructions precisely. The ground was fast approaching, and the plane was not slowing down – not nearly enough. Seconds before the plane was about to smash into the ground, Mike clutched the flight controls, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, expecting to die. His eyes opened; he had passed through the icy ground like it was a cloud, or an optical illusion. The plane continued its downward trajectory through two miles of ice and rock before it opened up again, and he was in clear sky – or so it seemed.
What the fuck? Where am I?
After a closer look, Mike realized that he was not flying above the earth, but below it. The gauges showed he was flying about a thousand feet above the rocky surface. Above him was a ceiling of rock and ice. There were mechanical devices above that funneled light from the sky into the huge cavern. Mike glanced to his right and left, it appeared there was at least 30 miles between him and the cave walls on either side. Ahead of him there appeared to be at least 100 miles of airspace, maybe more.
A closer look at the ground revealed tall buildings, factories, residential areas, warehouse districts, an airport, and a large lake. Mike navigated the large cargo plane toward the airport. The voice confirmed he was cleared for landing. The C-17 glided along the 3,000-foot-long smooth runway to a stop. Mike saw three people quickly walking toward the plane. He squinted to make out their features. There were two very large soldiers wearing body armor, Mike knew them to be Ondagra, the third person was much smaller, a woman.
Could it be Nikita? Was she here to greet him? Would she be happy that he was able to deliver this precious cargo?
As they approached, Mike’s heart summersaulted as he saw that it was Nakita. He smiled. Everything was going to be okay. It was all worth it. He lowered the ramp so she could board. The two soldiers stayed back at the foot of the ramp. Mike ran to her and threw his arms around her.
“Thank you for being here. I’m so relieved to see you,” Mike whispered.
Nakita returned the hug, but pushed him away after a few seconds.
Nakita stepped back and asked, “Remember that time you shot me in Virginia?”
Mike stuttered, “Yes, but I was forced to do that. Please don’t hold that against me. Look what I have done for you. I did all of this for you. I killed my own people. I killed Americans. I stole this cargo.”
Nakita smiled. “I’m a spy. That’s what I do. The Ondagra thank you for your service.”
Mike looked down at her right hand and saw a DE pistol.
“You are going to shoot me? After all we have been through? Are you kidding me? This is how it ends? Listen, you don’t have to do this.”
Still smiling, she said, “I know, Mike. I asked to do this.” Nikita leveled the pistol at his chest, and said, “Consider us even.”
The flash of light seared through his chest, burning flesh and sucking the air out of his lungs. He clutched his chest with both hands, staggered backwards, stumbled over some boxes and tumbled to the metal grating. He started shaking uncontrollably. The last thing he heard before darkness washed over him was Nikita yelling, “We need a medical team up here ASAP.”
As he faded into oblivion, his last thought was, “Why would they need a medical team?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
It had been a week since Snap and Furier had been extracted from Siberia with the help of an American AG Fighter. The rescue went smoothly; it seemed like the Russians were too busy taking inventory of their newly found prize to even mount a search for the survivors of the fallen shuttle. There had been several debriefings since they returned. Top brass seemed very interested in the Russian soldier’s battle armor. Snap was surprised that they didn’t really ask that much about the Ondagra’s capabilities; he guessed they were already familiar with those.
Snap sat alone in a conference room, several hundred feet below Dugway Proving Ground. He knew he was to meet with a VIP, but he wasn’t sure who it would be. In walked General Benjamin Paxton, and with him a very distinguished looking Air Force General that Snap did not recognize at first.
General Paxton said, “At ease, Major Slade.”
Snap stood to meet the Generals.
“This is General Stone Byrd of Space Command,” General Paxton announced.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Sir. We spoke a few times during the operation,” Snap said.
“No. It’s an honor to meet you, Major Slade. You and your men really saved the day by recovering so much of the Element 115.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Snap said. Snap had a million questions about the Moon Base, space aliens, and interstellar politics; but, he knew better than to ask. There was good chance he already knew more than he should.
“Major, I think it’s time we read you in on a few things.” The General paused and then emphasized, “highly classified things.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Let’s have a seat,” General Byrd said, as he pointed to the chairs at one end of the conference room table.
General Paxton started, “So, you already know there are two different species of aliens here on Earth, you have meet them both. You know that we have extensive diplomatic and strategic relations with the Vitahicians. The Russians have longstanding ties with the Ondagra, and there is a form of cold war going on between us.”
“Yes Sir,” Snap said.
General Stone Byrd interjected, “The problem, son, is that we, the humans, are the low man on the totem pole, so to speak. If either of these technologically advanced races were to suddenly decide that they don’t need humans anymore, well, let’s just say we would not have any meaningful way of defending ourselves.”
“I thought both the Ondagra and Vitahicians prefer to control through diplomacy and political power?” Sap interrupted.
General Paxton said, “So they say. But we are in a tight spot if they change their minds. We are trying our best to catch up, as fast as we can. That’s why we need the Element 115 and other off world elements, too. It’s necessary to build AG Fighters and fusion reactors, and they can’t be found here on Earth, at least in any kind of meaningful quantities. If we can’t stand on our own, then we are subject to the whims of these aliens.”
“Sir, I thought the Vitahicians were trying to help us?”
Stone Byrd answered, “They are, and they have. If it weren’t for them, we would still be using rotary phones. But, they can only provide so much help. They are a long way away. If Earth were attacked, by the time they could get here, the war would have been over for years. Not to mention t
heir weapons systems are still behind the Ondagra. If more Ondagra were to show up, well, I doubt we could survive even a month.”
General Paxton added, “That’s not even the most immediate problem. Mike Evans, one of our Vitahician scientists, someone who has been with us for decades, since the Eisenhower administration, defected. He killed all the crew on his C-17 and flew it to Antarctica with a load of Element 115.”
This was the first time Snap was hearing this. “What? We lost a C-17? How? Who was on the plane he took?”
“None of your team. He killed the clone that was with you, the crew, the rest were survivors from the Impegi.”
“He got Bob? How?”
“Bob?” Paxton asked.
“Bob is what they named the clone,” Stone Byrd said. “I heard them referring to one of them as Bob; I was not sure which one they were referring to until now.”
“You named the clone?” Paxton asked in surprise.
“Yes Sir. Was that wrong?”
“No. I suppose not. It’s just never been done before. Anyway, Bob’s dead. The problem is, we now know Mike Evans was not working alone. He had help. Help from within.”
Snap asked, “How do we know he had help?”
The Generals glanced at one another; Stone Byrd nodded. General Paxton went on, “Shortly after we lost contact with the C-17, and we realized what had happened, we searched all of Mr. Evans personal belongings and found some of his communications. It was clear that he was talking to other Vitahicians. Several of them.”
“Do we know who they are?” Snap asked.
“No. Unfortunately, they used code names, and we cannot crack their encryption. Well, that’s not entirely true. We don’t even understand the technology they use to transmit data, much less how to break it down or track it.”
There was a pause in the conversation, as if the Generals were wanting him to respond. Snap, not wanting to reveal too much of what he learned while in the Siberian cave, said, “So, what can I do, Sir?”
General Stone Byrd said, “Well, son, the dynamics of power are shifting now that the crew of the Impegi have arrived. You see, there were two commanders on that ship. Commander Furier and Forte are now among the top Vitahician leadership here on Earth. Forte has become a hero among the Vitahicians, based on him saving as many of them as he did that day. The others, the ones that have been here for so long, will be forced to confide in them. Forte and Furier will be forced to take sides.”
“Take sides?” Snap asked. “Do you think the conspiracy that Mike was a part of is really that big, goes that deep?”
“Unfortunately, yes. We believe, based on the communications we could intercept, and the way he was able to execute his plan on such short notice, that he must have had substantial help,” General Paxton replied.
General Byrd leaned forward in his chair and said, “Major, we don’t know, but the conspiracy may lead all the way back to their home-world. We are concerned that the Impegi’s crash landing in Russia may have been the work of sabotage.”
“To what end? Couldn’t that have killed the saboteur?”
“Maybe. But most of them escaped and survived the crash. It could have been planned to just drop the ship into the hands of the Russians and Ondagra. If the Impegi was intentionally dropped, we need to know who ordered it. That’s where you come in.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. You lost me. How do I come in?” Snap asked, as he sat up straight in his chair.
“You spent the night with Commander Caliana Furier, down in that Russian bunker. We are assuming that you must have formed some sort of bond. Down there. Alone. For so long,” General Paxton said with a weak smirk and raised eyebrow.
Snap shifted in his seat, more than a little uncomfortable, and said, “I assure both of you that nothing inappropriate happened.”
“No. Major, you misunderstand. We are not accusing you of anything,” General Paxton assured.
Stone Byrd laughed and said, “Not that we could blame you. She is one hell of a looker. If you know what I mean.”
Snap smiled faintly and replied, “Yes Sir. She is.”
“All we want you to do is to use your relationship with her to stay close and keep your ears open,” Stone Byrd said.
“You want me to spy on Caliana?” Snap asked indignantly.
“No. Nothing like that, Major. Just keep an eye on her. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, let us know,” General Paxton said firmly.
“How is that not spying?” Snap asked in the politest tone he could muster, trying to not be insubordinate.
General Paxton continued on in a firm tone, “Major, we don’t expect her to side with the traitors. But we have no idea who they are, how many there are, or what their intentions may be. We must assume they have spies everywhere, and we have nothing. If she is contacted by the defectors, we need to know about it. Do you understand?”
General Stone Byrd added, “Do you agree to stay close to her and report back to us if she is contacted by any of Mike Evans’ co-conspirators?”
Snap knew he had no choice, and why should he, if she was a traitor, then his loyalty was clearly with the military. Snap responded, “Yes Sir.”
“Good. Thank you Major. And thank you again for the good work in Siberia,” General Byrd said, as he stood.
“General, may I ask a question before you go?”
“Of course, Major.”
“Sergeant Davis, the one that was hit by friendly . . . that I shot. He started acting funny, having premonitions of a sort. He could predict where the alien would attack next. Did we ever figure out what happened there?”
Stone Byrd stopped, frowned and replied quickly, “No, Major. We never did figure that one out. I guess there are just some things that happen in combat that can’t be explained.”
“Yes Sir,” Snap replied. Snap knew the General was hiding something, but there was no point in pressing the issue.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
August 21, 1945
Dale Matthews wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked into the mess hall. He had been at Alamogordo Army Air Field in New Mexico for several months. The Germans had surrendered, and the war was over. Dale shuffled over to where soldiers in olive drab uniforms were lining up for chow. The single story wooden structure had a few ceiling fans that helped with the dry heat. For months, Dale had been performing meaningless tasks, just biding time. It was clear that the Army had no idea what to do with him after he answered all their questions about the alien space craft he had seen in France.
Dale had been informed earlier that day that General Ryan Bartlett wanted to speak to him about an urgent matter. It had been months since he had been debriefed on the whole alien incident, and since then, the Army seemed to have forgotten about him. Clearly the meeting this afternoon would have something to do with the ‘incident,’ as they were calling it now. After lunch, he walked through the blistering summer heat to the office building where all the Army brass worked. It seemed a bit cooler in the nondescript, secretarial bullpen, as he sat waiting for the General to arrive.
A few minutes later, General Ryan Bartlett appeared from behind a closed door. Dale remembered him from Paris, France. The General appeared to be having a difficult day.
“Sergeant Matthews, Good to see you again. At ease.”
Dale snapped to attention and saluted the General.
“At ease, Soldier. Come on back to my office, we have a lot to talk about.”
Dale knew it had to be about the incident, but what could it be. He had already told them everything. What else could he say or do? “Yes Sir” Dale replied.
“Have a seat,” General Bartlett said, holding his hand out to indicate Dale should sit in one of the chairs.
The office was small with peeling white paint on the walls. Behind the General was a window that looked out towards another plain wooden barracks. A heavy, metal desk stood between them. The General sat on a formidable, metal, rolling chair, trimmed out with green viny
l covering. His chair rolled back toward the window.
“Sergeant Matthews,” the General said rhetorically, as he gathered his thoughts, “You know a lot more about these extraterrestrials than most soldiers.”
Dale Matthews sat quietly, knowing the General was not seeking affirmation.
General Bartlett went on, “You see, you present a unique problem to the Army. We can’t have you running around talking about space ships and aliens that have guns that shoot bolts of electricity.”
“Sir, I have not said a word about the aliens. Not since we spoke of it in France.”
“No. No. We know that, Sergeant. If you had . . . well, let’s just say we would not be sitting here today. I think we have found a place for you, a place for you in our brand new, shall we say, military industrial complex,” the General went on, choosing his words carefully.
Dale had never heard the phrase ‘military industrial complex’ before, but he fully understood the meaning. “Yes Sir,” Dale said weakly.
“Since the war, the military brass has been divided over the extraterrestrial issue. After the war we discovered extraterrestrial equipment, planes, and weapons in several German laboratories. Hundreds of U.S. soldiers saw the equipment and figured out what it was. All were sworn to secrecy. Most of them will go to their graves never revealing what they saw. The few that break their oath will be discredited.”
“That sounds right to me, Sir,” Dale said, nodding his head in strong agreement.
“But, we still have a problem. You see, there are several very high-ranking Generals and Colonels that are grumbling about letting the American people know about the extraterrestrial nature of the Germans advances in weaponry and rockets. The problem is simple. If these high-ranking generals come forward and disclose what they know, the people will believe them. We will never be able to keep it quiet.”
