Hybrid - Forced Vengeance (26 page)

The remaining soldiers retreated – panicked and alarmed. The M-1s had been expected to keep the probe at bay, but now their greatest weapons were eliminated.

Unimpeded, the alien probe walked over to Hangar Eight where Gray’s ship was stored. The probe touched the craft with one of its legs and a panel on the outer hull of Gray’s ship flowed open. The probe emitted a series of high-speed beeps and whines.

Scientists and soldiers determined that the probe was using a sophisticated binary language to communicate with the alien starship. They watched cautiously, hiding behind pieces of equipment. As it finished communicating with the ship, the alien probe retracted its leg. Gray’s ship’s silvery hull flowed seamlessly to cover the exposed panel.

The probe spent several minutes examining the experimental aircraft and spacecraft, and studying the wreckage obtained from the Roswell incident of the 1940s. After ten minutes of careful observation the probe turned to leave the hangar. As it was leaving, its greenish eye fell upon Gray’s spacecraft. With no warning, it fired upon the craft with a wide green beam of light, a higher intensity than the one used on the M-1 tanks. After a burst of two short seconds, Gray’s vessel vanished, leaving only the characteristic burn mark as evidence of its existence. The probe proceeded outside the hangar, unchallenged.

Two small conical devices dropped from the probe’s body. The devices seemed to examine the entire open space of the Groom Lake facility. From somewhere, a rocket whistled toward the probe. The projectile struck the shimmering distortion around the probe’s body and detonated harmlessly. The probe’s eerie eye searched for the source of the aggression as it surveyed the base. The alien construct approached the Groom Lake Control Center and paused. The probe’s eerie eye pointed directly toward the ground. It fired two white beams into the earth and increased the size of its defensive sphere ten-fold. It now had a protective blister around its entire body and legs.

* * * *

Twenty stories below the ground, Gray felt the presence of his kind as two white curtains of energy enveloped him.

Shanda and Sergeant Phelps watched in amazement as the light penetrated their prison. They listened as Gray formed alien words and sounds to go along with his thoughts, communicating with his kind. Shanda felt the alien’s relief then happiness even through the null fields. To her amazement, Gray’s normally unexpressive mouth actually took the shape of a smile. As the lights ceased Gray became animated.

“What is it, Gray? What was that light?” Phelps asked.

Gray straightened to his full height. “He found me! And he is coming to take me home.”

“Who? Who’s he?”

Gray walked to the clear barrier. “My father,” he answered in perfect human English. “My father has found me by using a nomad probe.”

Phelps’ jaw dropped; the tiny alien could actually communicate in English. Phelps felt slightly hurt that Gray had not confided this ability.

“Do not be angry with me, Arthur. I so enjoyed our telepathic communication. Helping you develop your talent occupied my time. If we spoke as we’re doing now, you would never have made as much progress.”

I am sorry if I have hurt your feelings,
he projected.

Phelps shook his head and smiled.
You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve given me a gift that I can never repay.

“You are my friend, Arthur; you will always be ‘my friend.’ I have told the others of your kindness and compassion. But I fear that my father is very angry right now. He is coming to take me home, by force if necessary.”

* * * *

Acting as a conduit for father and son to communicate, the probe fired a bright red beam into a blue vortex that it created while the exchange went on, and now the father knew his son was alive. He would come to claim him.

Meanwhile, four soldiers pushed a small platform out of Hangar 7 that served as a laboratory for the Nikola Tesla energy coil experiments. As ordered, the scientists had powered up the model, and soldiers prepared to bring the experimental energy beam to bear on what seemed to be an unstoppable intruder.

Under its enhanced blister, the probe continued to survey its surroundings and discovered the object manned by four soldiers.

The node of the energy weapon glowed the color of lightening as it built up its charge. Once fully charged, the sergeant manning the weapon activated it, and a beam of pure amplified particle energy collided with the probe’s shield. The beam visibly weakened the probe’s shielding, forcing the probe to retreat. After three full seconds the beam pierced the blister and tore through the two-meter housing. Encouraged, the sergeant fired another pulse that sliced through the probe and severed two more legs.

The probe responded by firing its narrow beam at the threat. The narrow green beam hit the energy weapon, causing a massive explosion that demolished everything within a 200-yard radius, including the alien probe and several storage hangars. Scientists and soldiers died instantaneously. The explosion’s aftermath resulted in a cloud of billowing smoke, visible for miles, and caused separate blazes. Fire apparatus stationed throughout the base were dispatched to contain the damage.

* * * *

Colonel Ross kept up with the dozen monitors that constantly changed pictures, providing different views of the destruction and mayhem that went on outside his command center. The encounter with the probe was more than disastrous in terms of dollars worth of lost equipment. Three multi-million dollar tanks were gone; lost peripheral equipment went into hundreds of millions of dollars, not to mention the loss of life. This was an unmitigated disaster that would undoubtedly endanger his operation and jeopardize all that the underground government had hoped to accomplish.

“I want a complete damage assessment within the hour as well as a list of casualties,” he ordered a subordinate. “That probe was right over the underground detention center. We must assume the spider probe established contact with our ‘guest.’ Let’s see if we can uncover any details. I want three armed soldiers to meet me at the detention center entrance in twenty minutes. I’m going to have another chat with our alien friend.”

Ross left the command center and began the long walk underground to the specialized lab-turned-detention-center. If the alien was not cooperative, he still had the hybrid child. But according to his turncoat second in command, Erik Knight had made contact with his wife. Despite all of the miles, the carefully executed assassination plot and the dual telepathic fields, the son of a bitch had managed to reach out and contact Shanda Knight. It was now only a matter of time before the seven-foot silver warrior would come crashing through the gates of Groom Lake looking for his wife.

Ross sighed deeply. If Nancy Bertoni were somehow able to reach Knight, the whole conspiracy would unravel like a severed ball of yarn – exposing him, Anderson, Pendelton, and the dozens of others higher up in the Defense Department as well as the executive branch of the government.

Their entire operation exposed, he would be court-martialed and likely spend the rest of his life behind bars. Richard Pendelton would be hung in a civilian court and the Washington politicians that spearheaded their organization would be facing lengthy prison terms as well.

Ross approached the elevator that led to the sub levels where the alien was held. He didn’t relish admitting defeat to this alien, but he would do what he had to, in order to protect himself. He had to know what was coming.

Goliath could be brought on line and fully activated but Ross didn’t want to risk mobilizing the multi-billion dollar offensive weapons platform unless it was absolutely necessary.

* * * *

Nancy Bertoni admired her reflection. She had spent several hours altering her appearance. Her once long black locks were now fashionably cut above her ears and bleached blond. She had traded in her customary formal attire for a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. She looked at the bed where a manila folder lay with a small plastic case that contained two data discs: Her insurance policies.

Her first objective was to get to Madame’s Restaurant – Mr. Knight’s home. She had called earlier, pretending to be a patron and had been given excellent directions. She would drive there in her cheap rental car.

Having worked with Michael for several years, she knew the exact make of cars used in surveillance assignments. If she saw even one car that fit the profile in the restaurant’s parking lot, she would assume that her contact on the phone guessed her objective and agents waited to intercept her. She knew it was likely her cell phone was tapped so she’d been afraid to ask for him by name.

If there were no distinct cars in Madame’s parking lot she would venture in, order a meal and milk it for as long as possible. Once comfortable with her waitress, she could then ask if Mr. Knight was available. There were still risks and flaws in her thinking, but she had to try to contact the detective.

She drove the Ford Escort down Route 140 and slowed as she drove by the restaurant parking lot. She trained her eyes on the cars present. One stood out, a black Crown Victoria parked away from all the other cars. She clearly saw a man inside the passenger side, staring at the front entrance.
Got you!
She laughed to herself.

They must think her stupid – or the men assigned to intercept her were lazy. Her best bet now was to give it time, wait a few days. If she didn’t show up as expected, there was always a chance they would think she never intended to come to Madame’s at all. Nancy continued on her way down the rural road. She could afford to be patient for a few days if it meant the difference between success and failure. For Nancy Bertoni, failure was not an option.

She drove back to her hotel, soaked in a hot bath and then grabbed an early dinner. For once, time was not the enemy – it was her ally. The longer she put off contact with Erik Knight, the less likely it was she would be caught. Government agents were probably checking local hotel registries looking for her. She figured two days – no more no less – was all she could afford in this spot.

* * * *

Colonel Ross met up with the three armed soldiers just outside the detention center. He keyed in the access code, and the massive titanium doorway swung open as pressurized air pushed against the hinge cylinders. He entered and spotted Shanda, Gray and Phelps all looking at each other.

“So the rats are all conspiring against me.” Ross snickered as he went over to the alien’s cell.

He stared at the captive, feeling a tad uneasy. “We had a visitor today that nearly destroyed our base.” He smiled wickedly and added, “We managed to destroy it. We think it sent out a message. I don’t suppose that you’d care to elaborate on what attacked us?”

The alien’s tiny face filled with contempt. “In your language it would be called a nomad probe.” The alien spoke in perfect English, dumfounding Ross. “Our race uses them to investigate inhospitable worlds where conventional methods of observation are not effective or efficient.”

Ross looked to Phelps then at the soldier, who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Nomad probes are not programmed for aggression; you must have attacked first. They are primarily used for observation. There is a self-preservation sub routine stored into their brains. Had you not attacked the probe, it would not have responded with force,” the alien replied.

Ross considered the alien’s words and shook his head, dismissing the explanation. “Getting back to my original inquiry: did the probe send out a message, and if so, what?”

The alien gave a solemn nod. “The nomad contacted my people. My father is now aware that I am here at this facility. He will be coming for me to take me home shortly. He is very angry, Colonel Ross. My race is peaceful and slow to anger. From the small amount of data downloaded from our ship, and what he learned from me, I expect he will want to punish all who had a part in my captivity.”

Ross scratched at his unshaven cheek. “So we can expect an invasion?”

The alien blinked. “I honestly don’t know. I expect there are many things to consider, and I am not well versed in such things. Children my age are not allowed access to such weighty matters.”

Ross looked at Phelps and both raised an eyebrow in question.

“Exactly how old are you, Gray?” Phelps asked.

“I am five of your standard Earth years.”

Ross was shocked at the alien’s admission but said nothing further. He turned his attention to the very pregnant Shanda Knight. She looked away, seeming disgusted, as he eyed her swollen body.

“I hear you’re due to give birth any day now.”

“So they tell me.” Her voice was filled with contempt, and she did not bother to face him.

“Tell me, Mrs. Knight, how did your husband manage to contact you?”

Shanda whipped around, her look of surprise betraying her. “How did you know?”

“We have monitors on the amount of telekinetic energy the shields absorb. When the energy exceeds the shield’s ability, alarms are triggered and measurements are taken; it’s not an exact science, but it is effective.” Ross felt that a bit of honesty might well lead somewhere.

“Then be smart, and let me go. Why bring his wrath down upon this center? If you let me go, I can curb his anger and probably save your life.”

Ross shook his head. “I don’t think so. Your husband may only know that you’re alive, but not where to look. I’ll keep you for a while longer yet. I still have some time before I have to play that hand of poker. And I’m very curious about your son. I’m sure we’ll gain a great deal of knowledge from his examination.”

“If you so much as bend a hair on my baby’s head, Erik will kill you,” Shanda fired back.

Ross raised an eyebrow at the ferocity of her warning. “This game isn’t played out yet, Mrs. Knight. I still have a few cards left and a few surprises up my sleeve.” Ross gave her a smug smile. “I know you and the alien both think you’ve won, but you haven’t. I still have both of you and possession is still nine tenths of the law.”

Ross eyed the large control panel that displayed the null field generators. Power meters registered at nearly eighty percent capacity. The system, not designed for a constant deployment at that intense power level, would eventually burn itself out. But right now he needed assurances that no more messages could be sent. He set the field’s power levels two clicks above maximum. The power meters climbed to 105% capacity and several warning lights flashed. The fields would only last a few days, but with any luck Shanda Knight would deliver her child within that timeframe – then the infant could be shuttled to another location. Erik Knight could have his bitch back if he could get her. Shanda Knight was not his priority – the hybrid infant was.