by D F Capps
Diane looked around at the carnage and quickly removed her helmet, breathing in cool fresh air at last. They rushed back to the main hall and the blast door to the OPS center.
* * *
Sean Wells followed the four people in chrome suits in through what appeared to be an old mine entrance.
Where the hell are they going? he wondered. He entered into a room with concrete walls, floor, and ceiling through the remains of some kind of heavily reinforced round door on massive hinges. So, not a real mine, he realized. He took a picture of the damaged blast door and a piece of desk that had been shoved against the right wall.
“Hey!” someone shouted at him. “What are you doing? This is a secure area!”
Sean held up the Ceti Research ID card. “You know Theo?”
The man examined the ID, looked at Sean sternly, turned and walked deeper into the hallway off to the left.
Sean checked the room over quickly. Probably a security station, he thought. He continued following the pilots in chrome suits down the hall and into the stairwell. They walked down flight after flight of steps until they emerged into a hall. Sean walked past about a dozen dead aliens and took more photos. The hall had rooms set off to the side.
They look like dorm rooms, he thought. Could be residences for a military base.
He followed them over to another stairwell, and climbed up what seemed like endless sets of steps. At the top landing they opened a door and entered a small alcove. The obnoxious odor he encountered outside was overwhelming in the hallway.
* * *
“It’s over!” Diane shouted. “How are the people in the control room?”
Jed Collier stuck his head through the large hole in the blast door. “Zadanski?”
“Yes, we’re here.”
He sighed in relief. “We thought you were all dead, and we were next. When we lost communications we . . .”
Diane nodded. “I know. We thought you guys were dead, too.”
Jed Collier stepped back and Hollis stuck his head into the gaping hole.
“What’s it like outside? Losses?”
Diane glanced at the pile of dead Zeta Greys. “The Russians and Chinese have a few fighter craft left. We don’t. Outside looks like the world’s largest advanced tech junk yard. Crashed saucers are scattered over a two or three hundred mile radius. I don’t know how you’re ever going to keep this quiet.”
Hollis shook his head. “We’re going to have to try. I have to call the president. See if you can get the blast door open. We need to assess the damage and figure out how long it’s going to take to rebuild the base.”
“And how long it’s going to take to get new fighter craft,” Diane added.
* * *
Sean walked through the alcove and turned into the hall. He stopped at the sight of more dead aliens and took more photos. The stench from the aliens was nauseating. He walked cautiously forward, stepping over the dead bodies. He also saw people in chrome suits lying on the floor, dead, he assumed. It was clear some horrific battle had taken place here. The end of the hall was knee-deep in dead aliens.
He stepped carefully over the bodies and into the main hall, taking more photographs as he went. Several dozen people in chrome suits stood thigh-deep in dead aliens near the other end. He made his way closer to the group of people.
* * *
Diane looked at what remained of her teammates, proud of the victory they had made over the Zeta Greys. Among the people in flight suits was a man in a wrinkled polyester business suit.
“Who the hell are you?” Diane demanded.
“Sean Wells.” He held up the Ceti Research ID card. “You know Theo?”
“I do,” she said. “I’ve been to Ceti Research, and I don’t remember seeing you there.”
The look of lost confidence on Sean’s face made her approach him.
“Any other ID?” she asked. “Empty your pockets.”
She went through his wallet: New York driver’s license and a New York Times press pass.
Diane tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. Oh crap, she thought. This is the last thing we need. She looked back at him and asked, “How did you get in here?”
He looked around like he was a little unsure of himself. “I came in with some of your pilots. They needed my car to get back here.”
Diane shook her head. “What I mean is why did you come here, to this specific spot?”
Sean shrugged. “Honestly? I was invited.”
Diane put her fists on her hips. “By whom?”
“A strange kid named Charlie.”
She handed Sean’s ID card to Jed Collier, who ran it through the security system.
“He’s legit, including his security clearance.”
* * *
“Peregrine Base is going to need major repairs, but it’ll be functional again in the near future,” Admiral Hollis carefully explained to President Andrews. “The manufacturing center for the fighter craft hasn’t been discovered by the Zeta Greys, so it’s still in full production.”
He heard Andrews sigh.
“I’m ordering the National Guard and all military in the area to close off that entire section of the state,” Andrews said. “I think releasing news that a nuclear spill has taken place will help keep people out of the area. No one wants to be around radioactive contamination.”
Hollis made a note in his briefing pad. “I think that’s wise,” Hollis said. “I’ve requested that several Russian and Chinese fighter craft remain in the area, at least until we can have a few fighters of our own flown in to protect what’s left of the base.”
Hollis paused, considering just how to word his next bit of news. “We have an unexpected guest in the base.”
“Who?”
Hollis cringed. “Sean Wells, from the New York Times.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “How the hell did he get in there?” Andrews sounded furious.
“Apparently, he was invited.” Hollis closed his eyes as he waited for Andrews to respond.
“Let me guess—by Charlie?”
Hollis nodded to himself. “None other.”
Chapter 64
Conrad Kaplan listened carefully to the reports coming in over the radio. The impeachment of President Andrews had been dropped without explanation. He found the arrest of Whitcolm and Metzner equally troubling. The Partnership had taken an unexpected blow, but they would recover. He sat back, thinking, as his yacht, Dominator II sailed for Hawaii.
I need time to rethink my plans. I need a place out of the reach of the U.S. government, a country without an extradition treaty.
He checked his reference books and climbed the stairs to the pilot section of his sail boat.
“Captain, we need to change course.”
Walters turned to face him. “Where to?”
Kaplan looked out over the endless sea. “Vanuatu. Do we have enough supplies?”
Walters smiled. “I know a quiet little place where we can stop along the way. It’s not going to be a problem.”
Kaplan nodded. “Do it.” He turned and went below to his state room.
* * *
Sean Wells walked slowly with the group from Peregrine Base to where the memorial service would be held.
What a strange and twisted path this has been, he thought. From climate change deniers to corporate corruption, an attempted coup, and on through chemtrails to a planetary shield against hostile extraterrestrials.
What he needed now were the words to explain to the rest of the world what it all meant. The New York Times may, or may not, be willing to tell the whole story. That remained to be seen.
President Andrews seemed at least partially open to eventually disclosing the whole truth: that alien visitors are a reality and we are secretly fighting to save our planet from a desolate future—that a heartless and despicable extraterrestrial race stalks the people of our world, silently and secretly plotting our demise.
Climate change remained
an open question as to whether it was real, or simply a cover to fund the secret planetary shield technology. As far as Sean could determine, only time would sort that one out. Either way, it was all Pulitzer-Prize-winning material, and he had the only inside track. For an investigative journalist, it just didn’t get any better than this.
* * *
Diane Zadanski, Admiral Hollis, and the remaining members of Squadron One gathered to pay homage to their fallen warriors. Of the forty-eight pilots and RIOs at Peregrine Base, thirty-seven had perished in the last battle, plus another eighty-six of the base personnel. A private cemetery had been constructed in a remote valley a mile south of the entrance.
Admiral Hollis stepped in front of the small group.
“I’m not very good at this. I view each of you the way I would my own children, if I had any. The fact is you are my family. I take the loss of each person as a great loss to me, personally, and a tragedy for humanity. I am extremely proud to have every one of you as a vital part of my family, and I grieve the passing of each brother and sister in this military version of my household. I . . .”
He breathed heavily and glanced around. Tears welled in his eyes.
He needs help with this, Diane thought. She stepped forward.
“I can do this, sir,” she said quietly.
He slowly stepped off to the side as she turned to face the group.
“We have come together, here, in the quiet and privacy of the wilderness, to pay our last respects to our friends and comrades-in-arms. While the public may never know of their bravery and ultimate sacrifice, we will hold their heroism in our hearts and minds from this day on.”
She held her arm out toward the rows of white stone crosses.
“Each cross bears the name and rank of our country’s newest heroes. A place for the branch of service has been left blank, so that we may more openly declare their courage and defining place in history at some point in the future. I personally pray that time is not too far away. This level of commitment and sacrifice needs to be acknowledged and revered, if not for them, then for those who will follow in their footsteps.
“To our friends, I say, in parting, that we will see you all when we meet again in the wild blue yonder.”
Diane turned to face the graves.
“Atten-hut!” Clay said.
They all raised their right hands in slow salute as taps played in the distance. As the sound of the bugle drifted off, Diane said, “Rest in peace, knowing that we will not rest until our enemy is vanquished and security is restored to our world.”
* * *
President Andrews stood in the small semiformal dining room in the bunker under the White House. Martha came through the open doorway from the kitchen carrying two glasses of red wine. She handed one to him.
“Peace offering?” she said.
He took the glass of wine and nodded.
“You seem deep in thought,” she said.
Andrews took a long sip of wine before answering, “I was just thinking how much things have changed since I took office. Back then I thought we were leading the world in technology, and that Russia was our biggest concern. After meeting Charlie and Etnar, my whole perception of humanity has changed. My hope was to limit war in our world. Instead, I’ve started a new war with creatures from another star system. With the size of the battle in New Mexico, I don’t know how long I can keep this secret.”
She took a small step closer to him. “So what do you think would happen if people found out we’re not alone in the universe?”
He took another swallow of wine. “All of our major social systems are based on beliefs that are now hopelessly out of date. Religion, political parties, military power, our financial and educational systems—all of them would have to be profoundly revised. The chaos in the world would be devastating. Everything would fall apart.”
She glanced down and smiled to herself. “You think people would panic?”
He nodded. “I really do. I think they would lose confidence in everything. I can’t tell the American people we’re in the middle of a war with aliens. It’s too great a shock. I have to find a way to do this gradually.”
She nodded slowly. “You’re not the first to wrestle with this decision, you know.” She sipped at her wine and set the glass down on the table. “Spain and Brazil admitted that UFOs are real. They declassified all of the documents pertaining to flying saucers and aliens and made them available to the public. Nobody panicked. There was a collective sigh of relief that their government was finally being honest with them. I think the same thing would happen here.”
He shook his head. “But this isn’t Spain, or Brazil. Disclosure could be devastating.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I think you’re over-estimating the fragility of most people. I’ve checked on the polls. Eighty percent of people think the government is hiding information on UFOs. Only fifteen percent think UFOs are not real, half of the people think they are, and thirty-five percent either don’t know, or don’t care.”
She watched his face carefully.
“But what about people’s faith in religion, government, finance, and academic institutions?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think it’s going to matter. People will go on believing what they believe. People who go to church will continue going to church. People who go to college will still go. People are creatures of habit. You said your perception of humanity has changed. How, exactly?”
He took a deep swallow of wine.
“I suppose I have lost some of my arrogance.” He looked at the expression on her face. “Okay, more than some.”
She chuckled and looked up at him again.
“Meeting people who know all of my thoughts and motivations is a very humbling experience. In learning about other, more advanced human races, spread throughout the galaxy, I now see our civilization differently.”
She stepped a little closer to him. “It sounds like you’ve benefitted from the experience. I think others would, too. How do you see us now?”
He swallowed the rest of his wine and placed the empty glass on the table.
“I see us advanced over where we were, but not as advanced as others. I see us on the threshold of a huge leap in awareness, knowledge, and technology. We’re close to a fundamental transformation in not only our society, but in our civilization. In the foreseeable future we will conquer the Zeta Greys, visit all of the planets in our solar system, and make our first trip to another star. We are coming of age as part of the human community in the galaxy.”
She smiled and nodded. “You sound more hopeful that doubtful.”
He stepped closer and put his arm around her. “I am, actually,” he said.
She looked up into his eyes again. “That’s what you need to share with the people of this country—your hope, your confidence, and your vision for the future.”
He furrowed his brow slightly. “That we’re coming of age as a human civilization?”
She smiled. “Yes. What you believe in your heart, others will also believe. That is the defining mark of a true leader.”
She put her arms around him. He looked back into her admiring eyes.
“Then that is what I’ll do.”
Thank you for reading The Zeta Grey War: New Recruits. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you are open to it, I would greatly appreciate it if you would consider posting a review.
Thank you, again,
D F Capps
Other books by D F Capps
Meteor Storm
Carl is a NASA engineer with a penchant for fixing things. He finds a robot's head brought back from the last moon mission. He manages to get it working, only to discover the Earth is in terrible danger. A cataclysmic meteor storm is coming.
Even though his boss won't believe him, and neither will the media, he still must save as many people as he can. What can he do to save even a remnant of our civilization?
Tsunami Storm
Lieutenant Ti
ffany Grimes is a rising star in the Navy. She has a date with destiny.
In the high-tech world of advanced secret weapons of mass destruction, the ability to trigger terrifying earthquakes and direct devastating storms has been mastered by the military.
Vice Admiral James Billingsly now controls America’s most powerful new weapon of mass destruction, which he secretly uses to impose his own warped moral code on an unsuspecting world. He, too, has a date with destiny.
As the U.S. and China are relentlessly drawn to the brink of war, the only protection for the Pacific Northwest coast is one U.S. submarine and its heroic crew against a truly catastrophic event. . .
Solar Weapon
Jake Hunter, special agent for the FBI, stumbles into a diabolical plot to enslave the world. Jake enlists a top-notch team of investigators, chosen from the NSA, Secret Service, and the army.
They are about to go on the wildest ride of their lives, where not only their survival, but the future of the world, hangs in the balance.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
An author stands in a circle of people, who, with little recognition, help make a book what it is. First in that circle is my wife, Miriam, who brainstorms with me, reviews my writing, suggests better words to use and points out weak spots in the plot and characters. Thank you for your great patience and understanding.
Next in line is my excellent editor, Phil Athans, who reads through the original manuscript and points out what neither my wife, nor I even thought about. This story is much more complete because of him.
Then come a number of readers who helped go through the story and provide valuable insights and feedback. Among them are Carol Asher, Nick Grachanin, Ron Current, Marci Jenkins, Steven Wagner, and Walt Willis.
