Origins: The Reich (33 page)

From the moment their plane landed in Washington, D.C., Dr. Jeffrey Holmes was astounded by the speed at which everything happened.  In the handful of times he had traveled to the city as a tourist, everything moved at a glacial pace by comparison.  His plane might taxi on the runway for at least ten minutes and then wait another ten for a gate to open up.  Exiting the aircraft, waiting for his luggage, and securing a rental car could take up to another hour.

This trip to the nation’s capital was much more efficient.  The plane touched down and went straight to a private hangar where a black town car was waiting for them to deplane the aircraft.  From landing gear touching runway to butts in a car seat took less than five minutes.

“That right there is the only way to travel.  I guess being a G-man has its privileges,” Jeffrey commented as he looked back at his brother sitting in the back seat next to Hastelloy.  “Are the three of us on our way to see the President now?”

“That still remains to be seen,” Mark answered, turning in his seat to focus his attention on Hastelloy.  “Hearing you personally arranged the passing of nuclear secrets to the Soviet Union after the second world war, the single most devastating act of espionage to ever occur, does nothing to give me a warm feeling of trust in you.”

For the first time since Dr. Holmes met Hastelloy, the man looked genuinely angry, enraged even.  At that moment, Jeffrey was very happy to be sitting in the front seat of the car, and not between the two men.

“You can’t trust me?” Hastelloy responded through gritted teeth and clenched jaw.  “Your NSA has hounded me and my men without rest for decades.  At this very moment, your boss is pulling out all the stops to try and destroy the Nexus device that I have guarded for over four thousand years.  Hearing all that, you still have the nerve to ask how you can trust me?  The real question is how can I stand to trust you, or any human for that matter?  All I’ve known of late is betrayal at the hands of humanity.”

Mark was at a complete loss for words as Hastelloy went on.  “Now here I sit in front of an NSA agent whose agency has a notorious history of trying to do me and mine harm.  I sit here now with my Nexus reanimation device effectively turned off in order to prevent the Alpha from reanimating any more clay soldiers.  The same goes for Commander Gallono helping your man in China right now.  We have both shed our immortality to help
you
.  The least you could do is say thank you and not question my motives.”

Mark’s eyes grew large with recognition that Hastelloy’s words rang true.  The man was risking everything.  “You’re right, and thank you.  However, I still can’t get past you betraying my country’s nuclear secrets.”

“Oh for the love of…” Hastelloy barked in frustration.  “Where would the world be right now if the United States had been the only nation wielding nuclear weapons for a decade or two?  Absolute power corrupts absolutely; just look at your NSA.  Their initial charge was to only monitor and act on potential alien activity on Earth.  Now that unchecked power has blossomed into a global spy agency beholden to no one, not even the current sitting president. Regarding nuclear technology, there needed to be a counterbalance; the Soviet bloc needed to become nuclear equals.”

“That equilibrium state of mutual annihilation didn’t start more wars, it stopped them.  War became the enemy because another world war meant the guaranteed annihilation of all mankind.  My act of espionage was the perfect solution to bring things back into balance.”

While Mark contemplated Hastelloy’s words, Dr. Holmes watched the car drive past the White House heading down Constitution Avenue. “If we mean to visit with the President, we just missed our turn.”

Mark shook his head and pointed out the front window toward the tall, white dome of the Capital Building. “No we didn’t.  I can trust the two of you with the knowledge that our new President is meeting with his Scientific Advisor in that building right now, and that’s where we’re heading as well.”

**********

“Right this way, Mr. President,” a secret service agent directed as he opened the door leading to a windowless bunker in the basement of the Capitol Building.  A man sitting at the room’s lone table calmly rose to his feet with the entry of the newly inaugurated Commander-In-Chief.

“I must say, I expected to conduct my first official meeting as President in the Oval Office to hand over the nuclear codes.  Instead, I find myself in a dingy concrete bunker with you,” the President declared while closing the door behind him.

He strolled over to the table and took a seat across from the room’s other occupant.  “I was at liberty to appoint my chief of staff, my cabinet, even the Secretaries of State and Defense; but not you.  Your position as Scientific Advisor was untouchable.  I’d like to know why.”

“My appointment is permanent in order to keep the number of people in the know to the absolute minimum,” the man answered.  “Three living ex-presidents, two NSA field agents and I are the only individuals on this planet who know what I am about to divulge.”

“I’m all ears,” a suddenly very interested President prompted.

“Tell me, how open you are to the possibility that intelligent life exists on other planets?” the Science Advisor began.

“I leave that notion where it belongs, with the musings of conspiracy theorists and the ramblings of mental patients,” the President countered with a soft chuckle.

For the first time in the conversation, the other man cracked a faint smile.  “Are those patients crazy, or are we for ignoring them…?” 

The President’s Scientific Advisor let the unanswered question linger in the dead air until saying, “There are two individuals I’d like you to meet.”

With that, the aging man rose from his chair, walked over to the room’s only door, and opened it to reveal two men standing in the doorway.  “Mr. President, I’d like you to meet NSA agent Mark Holmes and Hastelloy.”

The President rose to his feet while his eyes evaluated the two men as they stepped into the room.  He glanced about the windowless chamber as if looking for hidden cameras, but found none.  He looked back toward the door and was surprised to find a third newcomer shutting the door behind him.  “And who else do we have?  Do I need to call for the Secret Service to send some of their agents down here?”

“Not at all, Mr. President,” Mark responded.  This is my brother, Dr. Jeffrey Holmes.  He met Hastelloy two weeks ago and now stands as an overly informed, yet innocent bystander in the events I am about to walk you through.”

“And who is Hastelloy?” the President demanded.

“According to your pop culture, I am the little green man from outer space,” Hastelloy answered with a straight face.

“Oh, well this is just absurd.  I have inauguration parties to attend and no time for these games,” the President said over his shoulder on his way to the door.

“Don’t take his word for it,” the Scientific Advisor responded as he produced a computer tablet with a twelve-inch screen displaying the black and white grainy image of President Truman paused on it.  “Listen to the words of your predecessors, and then we’ll talk.”

For the next fifteen minutes, the new American President sat silent at the table, spellbound by former presidents. Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, both Bushs, Clinton, and Obama all chipped in to tell the known history of aliens on Earth since just before the Roswell Incident and the inception of the NSA.

The proof offered was undeniable and rendered the new President far more receptive as Hastelloy spent another ten minutes briefing him on the current situation: the Nexus, the Great Pyramid’s gravity weapon, the Alpha on Mars and in China, along with the hijacked NASA probe and its message.

When Hastelloy ran out of descriptive words to say, all the President could do was gently shake his head in disbelief and ask, “Is there anything else the four of you would like to unload on me while you’re at it, because at this moment I feel like I was hit by a bomb.  It’s no exaggeration when I say that I’m now giving serious consideration to resigning as President; I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Mr. President, this information is way beyond the magnitude of a bomb.  This is the equivalent of learning an asteroid is on a collision course with Earth, threatening to wipe out mankind,” Mark corrected.

“There’s more to current events I’m afraid,” the President’s Scientific Advisor added with regret in his voice.  “There has been an incident in Cairo where an NSA executive committee member issued orders to strike the Great Pyramid and Sphinx in an attempt to disable or destroy Hastelloy’s gravity weapon.”

“How, how could something like that happen without my specific approval?” the President demanded.  “Doesn’t committing an act of war like that require presidential approval?”

“Via its inception documents signed by President Truman, the NSA has that authority already,” Mark answered.

“What the devil am I the Commander-In-Chief of then?  Did it at least work?” the President asked while looking at Hastelloy.  The alien looked unconcerned as the Scientific Advisor gave his response.

“No.  As it turns out the location of the B2 bombers was being transmitted to the Egyptian military by an inside operative, presumably one of Hastelloy’s men.  One plane was shot down and the remaining three were turned away before dropping their payloads.”

“Your handy work?” the President asked, accusing Hastelloy.

“We defended ourselves from hostile intent, nothing more.”

“I’m afraid it’s much more than the loss of a two billion dollar plane,” the Scientific Advisor went on.  “The incident has already ignited an international firestorm, and the story is just now hitting the news wires and social media.”

Before the Scientific Advisor could elaborate further, Mark received a phone call.  The President was offended at first that the current conversation with him did not take precedence over a random call. His feelings reversed immediately when he learned the call was from the Egyptian army colonel in charge of the situation in Cairo.

“Oh, Christ!” Mark exclaimed as he placed his free hand over the phone’s microphone.  “Everyone shut up and listen.  Terrance, my NSA Executive Committee superior, has just initiated a nuclear attack on the Giza Plateau, and by association, the city of Cairo and the nation of Egypt.”

“Colonel, put Terrance on the phone.  Let me talk him down,” Mark said into his phone as he ran through the halls of the Capital Building.  Ahead of him was the President and a team of secret service agents leading the way toward a motorcade that would rush them to the White House Situation Room.  The President’s National Security Advisors were assembling there to try and do something, anything, about the pending nuclear launch.

“Terrance, this is Mark.  Listen to me; you can’t do this.  I’ve met their leader, Hastelloy.  His men are helping us with the threat in China.  He has earned my trust and that of the President,” Mark insisted as he ducked into the President’s limousine along with Hastelloy, Jeffrey, and the Scientific Advisor.

Terrance said something, but Mark was unable to hear it over the sound of tires peeling out and sending the car rocketing toward the White House’s West Wing.  “What was that, Terrance?”

“I said President Truman had this exact situation in mind when he granted the NSA full nuclear authority.  The man knew that some of the career politicians who would follow him wouldn’t have the stomach to make the necessary decisions,” Terrance said.  “I have an opportunity to neutralize the alien threat right here, right now, and I will not shirk my obligation to act upon it.”

“It will trigger World War III, a nuclear war that none of us will survive,” Mark shouted angrily.  “If you call this off now we’re still in a much better position on this than we were yesterday.  We have two of them and an open, cooperative dialogue.  If you go through with the nuclear launch, you doom us all and you damn well know it!”

“You’ve lost your nerve,” Terrance accused. “You’re not even the one who’ll lose his life in this, and you’ve lost your nerve - you coward.”

Mark was about ready to fly into a tyrannical raging rant, but had the phone removed from his hand by the President who put the conversation on speaker.  “This is the President of the United States.  I’m ordering you as your Commander-In-Chief to stand down from this course of action.”

“Negative, Mr. President,” came a hollow reply followed by the hum of a dead line.

An instant later, the limo screeched to a stop and both doors were flung open.  Following a thirty-second sprint to the situation room, the doors were shut and the President addressed the room.  “Give me an update, has there been a launch?”

“NORAD reported a launch twenty seconds ago, originating near Minot, North Dakota,” the communications assistant reported.  “The projected target is Cairo.”

“What options do we have?  There must be an overriding self-destruct signal we can send,” the President offered out of desperation.

“This is not one of ours, so no, we can’t,” one of the duty officers reported.

“What about intercepting it in flight with our missile defense system?” the President asked.

“The missile defense system is designed to shield us from incoming missiles by taking them out on ascent to sub-orbit.  This missile is already beyond that point and traveling at over 13,000 miles per hour.  There’s absolutely no chance of hitting the target now,” the duty officer reported with a frightening finality to his words.

“Time till impact?” the Secretary of Defense asked.

“The missile just separated into eight MIRVs and is now on descent.  We have four minutes until detonation.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” the President said out of complete desperation.

Mark looked toward Hastelloy for any hint that the alien had some sophisticated trick up his sleeve.  He had to have some super targeting laser, or a shield to protect the Nexus chamber and the surrounding areas.  Their eyes met, and he could tell Hastelloy knew what Mark was searching for, but it was not to be found. 

A helpless look and a subtle shake of his head let Mark know at that moment he was the only man in the room capable of stopping the world’s end.  Doing so, however, would require him to go back on everything he swore an allegiance to when he joined the NSA.  He would dishonor himself and become a traitor to his agency, but a patriot to humanity.  In that moment he deemed it a fair bargain; it was for the greater good.

“Call up this hour’s presidential authentication code,” Mark ordered the duty officer and placed a call to his contact inside the NSA controlled nuclear silo beneath the hard ground of North Dakota.  “Major Houston, this is Mark.  Terrance has made a terribly rash, ill-conceived, and unilateral decision to launch.  It must be terminated.”

“I certainly agree with your concern, Mark, but you and I both know you have no authority to give that termination order,” Major Houston countered.

“I’m here with someone who does.  Mr. President, would you please recite the authentication code your duty officer is handing to you now, and give the required termination order.”

The President did as he was asked reciting the twenty-six digit verification code, gave the order, and handed the phone back to Mark to conclude the conversation.

“You have your verification and orders, Major, now do your duty,” Mark ordered in as calm a voice as he could summon.

“It’s not enough,” Major Houston responded. “The NSA doesn’t answer to the President in this situation, and I don’t answer to you.”

“Damn it Tom, a top ranking NSA field agent and the current President of the United States are both ordering you to terminate this nuclear strike on a foreign nation,” Mark pleaded into his phone.  “Granted this is not specifically by the book, but if any situation allowed for a slight deviation, this is it.  A verified presidential order, my order, and the avoidance of World War III demand that you transmit the destruct order.”

Mark looked toward the display screen tracking the missile’s position with a countdown clock now standing with one minute and two seconds remaining before impact.  The clock ticked down in complete silence until it reached thirty-five seconds, and there it remained.

“We are no longer tracking any of the eight warheads,” the duty officer reported.  “They’ve been destroyed in flight, all of them.”

A great, victorious cheer rose up from the room, but Mark did not participate.  He had betrayed his oath and his agency, and now felt dirty because of it; there was no joy in his heart.

“You did the right thing,” Hastelloy said with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Tell me truthfully, would the blast or radiation from those nuclear warheads have penetrated that enhanced metal alloy box you built inside the Sphinx?” Mark asked.

“The gravity weapon would have been destroyed for sure. The Nexus chamber itself - I’m honestly not sure what would have happened to it.  I’m relieved beyond words that I didn’t have to find out,” Hastelloy answered as the cheering room quieted down.

Hastelloy took the opportunity of renewed silence to move the room’s collective thinking to address the next threat.  “The events taking place in China right now still need to be addressed.  The animated clay army has taken over several of their nuclear launch facilities as well as their Taiyuan space launch compound.  The Chinese need help whether they’re willing to admit it or not.”

“What would you have me do?” the President demanded.  “We just launched a nuclear weapon at a foreign country.  The international fallout will be catastrophic enough without adding to it by violating China’s sovereign soil.”

“Send the B2s,” Mark offered as a compromise.  “The Chinese Integrated Air Defense System is offline right now, and they wouldn’t be able to detect the planes even if it were.  If we can destroy the pyramid allowing these things to regenerate, it would at least level the playing field for the Chinese military to gain the upper hand.”

The President looked to his Secretary of Defense and received an affirmative nod, which gave him leave to issue the order.  A moment later, the Situation Room’s tactical display broadened its view to track the flight of B2 bombers heading toward a midair refueling tanker and then on toward the Himalayan Mountain range.