Opposing Force: Book 01 - The God Particle (5 page)

The line went dead. Liz held the phone to her ear until a recording said, "if you would like to make a call, please hang up."

She considered that the call could have been a hallucination or a prank but decided that if it were either, at least it would make for an interesting day.

Finally she hung up and marched to the closet outside the bedroom. She stared at the closed sliding doors, summoning the courage to open them, as if a dangerous creature lurked therein.

Inside waited a green dress uniform. Liz held the lapel and caressed the material with her thumb. She studied the silver oak leaf resting there and the black name tag.

Lieutenant Colonel Liz Thunder.
 

A set of steel elevator doors opened at the end of a tube-like corridor constructed of cement and painted in shades of gray and dirty white. Light panels shielding fluorescent bulbs lined the ceiling and emitted a harsh glow that eliminated any possibility of shadows. An orange and black decal identified the area as PYLON A, SUBLEVEL 1.

Major Thom Gant and Captain Brandon Twiste exited the oversized lift and walked the hall side by side, the former wearing black BDUs and carrying a sidearm, the latter in his preferred green version and, as usual, carrying no weapon of any kind, although Gant found that his friend did possess a sharp wit.

"Didn't look quite as nasty in the light," Twiste said, continuing a conversation begun several floors below outside the containment cells.

"Looked nasty enough to me, and I had an eyeful in the swamp. I'm not sure why you even wanted to see the thing again."

Twiste placed a hand on Thom's shoulder, stopping their progress. A sentry in green BDUs toting an M16 passed on his way to the elevator. Twiste stayed silent until he was by.

"Don't you ever wonder what happens after your team has done its job?"

"Not particularly."

"I'm supposed to be the Archangel science officer. I'm supposed to use my knowledge of biology and medicine to help you guys out. I worked on the net Taser design, I was with you in the Everglades the other morning to bag this thing, and I'm stuck in forty-eight-hour quarantine with you."

"Standard procedure for this type of encounter. Be thankful that at least we can wander the base. After Manitoba they stuck our entire team in one small barracks for—"

"That's not the point, Thom. We get the specimen all the way back here and ship him to the boys downstairs and now it's none of my business?"

"Everything is compartmentalized, doctor. You are not exactly new to the U.S. army, so why is this a surprise?"

"That's right, I forgot." Twiste seemed to back things down a step by flashing something akin to a smile as he spoke. "You're a true believer."

Gant shook his head and replied, "Not exactly. I've just given up hope. Besides, I have enough on my plate. I am quite content being another cog in the machine."

"So questions would just make more work for you?"

They started moving again. The passage they walked came to an end a few yards ahead where it intersected another hall running perpendicular to the elevator corridor. A stainless steel wall stood on the far side. Several big, rectangular windows lined that wall, most with blinds drawn shut.

"I do have one question," Gant said.

"Wow, this is a first."

"I'm looking at that thing we bagged. It did not wear any type of clothing, was acting like a crazed animal more than an intelligent creature, and from what I can tell the boys downstairs haven't been getting anything out of it other than grunts and screams. To be frank, doctor, I do not understand how something like that could fly a spaceship across the galaxy. I expect my E.T.s to be more like little green men than hairless pink guerrillas."

Twiste rubbed his chin and told him, "I was talking with Franco earlier."

"My apologies."

"He said he overheard the tech guys who were hoisting the ship out of the trench. They said they didn't spot any signs of technology, at least not on the inside of the capsule. Nothing fancy at all."

"That does not make sense," Gant said.

"Watch out, you're thinking too much."

The major ignored him and went on, "Is it possible this was some sort of false flag operation? Maybe a drill?"

"Possible, I guess, but I've never seen anything like that tango we bagged, and it was alive, not some sort of orangutan in a suit. No, I have another theory."

They stopped again at the intersection.

Twiste said, "Think about the early space programs, both us and the Russians. I think the first living things in space were a bunch of fruit flies. Later on we sent up monkeys, and the Russians sent up dogs."

"Test subjects," Gant said. "I doubt NASA relied on fruit flies to steer the rockets."

"Right. Maybe the ship we recovered was sort of a test capsule. So far the pilot doesn't seem like a sentient, intelligent creature. Well, as far as I can tell without any real contact."

"Stop pouting, doctor."

"Point is, if this thing was a test animal …"

Gant completed the thought: "Then sooner or later the real thing is going to come for a visit. Assuming, of course, that they feel their 'test' was successful."

"Maybe they were testing some kind of warp drive or whatever it is aliens use for getting around the galaxy these days."

Gant's eyes narrowed and his head tilted as he hit upon an idea. "What if they were testing how we reacted?"

Before Twiste could reply their attention was pulled to an office window on the other side of the hall. The blinds there were half closed and the shut door should have isolated all noise to the inside of the office, but a particularly loud protest of one kind or another managed to send a muffled noise through the wall and into the corridor.

Through the glimmers of light between the blinds, Major Gant spied two-star General Albert Friez speaking on the telephone in his office. No, not exactly speaking. More like arguing, which was a sight nearly as incredible to the two men as the alien in the swamp nearly thirty-six hours before.

"You've known him longer than I," Twiste said as they both stared at the general as he walked around his desk, stretching the phone cord as far as it could go. "Have you ever seen him like that before?"

Gant slowly shook his head and answered, "Even when I've seen him mad I've never seen him like that. This is something new."

As usual, Friez wore his full dress uniform although he did not wear his hat, something he tended to do even when indoors and underground. It was as if the man wanted to hide himself—physically—behind the trappings of rank.

They saw Friez take a deep breath and straighten his shoulders, his body language suggesting that he had lost whatever argument he was engaged in, which was another oddity; General Friez rarely lost arguments.

"Okay," Gant said, suddenly thinking of something to do. "I've got to take a piss and I think I want to use the restrooms all the way over in Pylon B."

"What? Why all the way over—oh, I get it. You don't want to be nearby when he gets off the phone. You big chicken."

"Let's call it a survival instinct."

The major stepped to his left with the intention of making his way to the access tunnel connecting the twin underground buildings comprising the Darwin complex. The buildings were built like subterranean skyscrapers and were known as Pylon A and Pylon B. While the buildings ran perfectly parallel to one another, only a few levels offered crossover points, although the structures shared a common base at the very bottom as well as surface buildings at the top.

Gant had managed only three steps when he heard the office door open and General Friez call, "Major Gant, Captain Twiste."

He turned around and, as usual, saw Friez's beady eyes staring at him with a type of cold gaze that reinforced Gant's notion of being merely a part—a tool—in a large machine. He knew Friez saw him as an asset, nothing else. More thing than person.

They followed General Friez into his office, which felt more like a metal box. If not for the big window looking out on the hallway and another window looking in on an adjoining office, the chamber would have the ambiance of a morgue drawer.

The major did not suffer from claustrophobia, but every so often he remembered that he worked in what was essentially a deep underground high-tech dungeon. He had become accustomed to the steady drone of the ventilation equipment, the constant hum from the lights, and the stale-tasting air.

Many of the technicians, scientists, and soldiers working in the Darwin complex brought mementos from home (pictures, knickknacks, plants). Not the general. No photos from old units, no pictures with him and any one of the several presidents he served under, not even commendations for his years of service.

From a boring metal desk to similarly boring file cabinets to a small table hosting a coffeemaker, Friez maintained an atmosphere as sterile as the oxygen they breathed.

Major Gant and Captain Twiste stood in front of the desk, while the general sat. Normally Friez maintained eye contact like an alpha wolf dominating his pack, but it seemed a day for the unusual; he looked everywhere but at his men.

"Major Gant, your tactical team will leave tomorrow morning for the Red Rock Mountain Research Facility in Pennsylvania. You will report to General Harold Borman there. Written orders are coming over the wire for you shortly and will include an overview of load-out specs. You'll receive mission specifics from General Borman."

Gant noticed that Friez said Borman's name with more contempt than usual. Borman oversaw a variety of black box, special access programs at the Pentagon, but Gant could not remember a time when someone other than Friez appeared to be giving the orders.

However, he felt it unwise to broach that subject. Instead, Gant said, "Sir, we're still under quarantine protocols."

The general ran a finger over his thin and perfectly neat mustache before answering, "I'm convinced your team was not exposed to any dangerous contaminants or compromised during your last mission. I'm waiving the final hours of your confinement. Go home, relax for the night, and be ready to leave in the morning."

Twiste asked, "What's the Red Rock facility, sir?"

"As for you, Captain," Friez extended a slip of paper toward Twiste, who gazed at it for a second before accepting, "you are to report to The Tall Company's Moreno Valley facility."

"Sir?"

Gant saw Friez take a deep breath, followed by a fast exhale. He had never witnessed this type of body language from his superior officer before. He translated it as … reluctance. It occurred to Major Gant that Friez did not agree with Archangel's new assignment.

For his part, as soon as Major Gant heard the name Tall Company he felt a sense of reluctance of his own, particularly in regards to the conglomerate's Sciences Division, which he knew operated at Moreno Valley.

Friez told Twiste, "You will receive specialized training and then will join Major Gant's detachment at Red Rock."

At that point the general stood, grabbed his hat from a hook, and held open the office door.

"You are to consider yourselves under the direct command of General Borman for the duration of this assignment."

Twiste headed for the door, scratching his head. Gant stopped before exiting and looked Friez in the eye.

"Of course we will do as ordered, but is there anything else we should know?"

Friez clenched his teeth and grumbled, "If you require additional information it will be provided to you by General Borman at his discretion."

Gant walked out. Friez turned off the lights to his office, shut the door, and marched along the hall, seemingly en route to either the surface elevator or one of the stairwells. His gait suggested that he aimed to leave the facility as fast as possible.

"Well, that was interesting," Twiste said. "He sure was in a mood."

Gant kept his eyes on the hall in the direction Friez had walked off. He heard the unmistakable
clang
of a heavy door shutting from somewhere around a corner.

"I would say so, yes. I don't think I have ever seen him like that."

"So I get a trip to The Tall Company. Great. I wonder what insanity they're cooking up this time around."

"They get to cook up anything they like without oversight. The benefits of being a private company. That's why the people in charge of our kind of work like them so much. Still, if I had a dollar for every time I've swept away one of their messes …"

The image of a gored body dressed in a white coat and insane lab monkeys clawing anything within reach flashed into his mind.

Twiste mused, "'Specialized training,' he said. Can't wait to see what that's all about."

Gant turned to him. "Watch your back over there. I do not trust them. And considering how bent out of shape Friez seems … let's just say I have a heightened sense of awareness."

"What's wrong, Thom—being a cog in the machine showing a downside?"

Gant smiled—a little—and nodded his head as if to admit touché, then told his friend, "I guess I sometimes worry that the machine might crush a cog or two along the way."