Skunk Works

Part III

by Jon Surfer

37.

16:08 Eastern Daylight Savings Time

The Prime Minister does not, as most Americans believe, head the Canadian Government, although in a practical sense the PM does oversee the daily governing of the nation. The Prime Minister’s position, in fact, does not officially exist, since the Canadian Constitution does not mention the position. The Head of the Canadian Government is the Sovereign who is represented by the Governor General. Despite this, it is the Prime Minister who holds the Canadian Seat on The Committee. Several Canadian PM have wondered if this was a blessing or a curse, soon there would be no need to wonder.

The Project hit team had come to Canada the same way that their brethren had travelled to Oregon they had driven. They had passed into Canada via one of the numerous border crossing that dot the U.S./Canadian Border. Even with the increased security in place because of the "terrorist" activity crossing from the United States into Canada had taken less than two minutes. Had the Custom’s Official spent enough time, he would have found some rather unusual items in the Project vehicle. He would have had very little time to enjoy the knowledge, but it might have upset the time table of the Hit Team enough to change things. In any case he survived, and the Team proceeded without incident.

"Are we on schedule?" Even though they were equipped with sub-vocalization gear, the driver asked this question aloud.

The Project Team leader checked his watch and nodded. "We are about ten minutes ahead of schedule. That will give us plenty of time to park and move into position."

"Good. Based on what we looked at last night there should be a couple of commercial lots near the target site. This car should fit right in."

The Team was NOT in the car that they had used to cross the border. They were in a Project car provided by the local Mr. Jones. A mid-sized Toyota, with local plates, it was so common a sight as to be invisible. Given their target, and the location where they had been ordered to make their kill, invisible was good.

"There’s a lot. Pull in there."

"Right."

"Remember, no matter what, the Prime Minister survives. The targets die, not him. Clear?"

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Good. Just like we planned it."

The Canadian Prime Minister is, as one would expect, considerably more approachable than the Presidents of Russia or the United States. His security detail is smaller, and the "protective bubble" around him is smaller as well. Despite this, his protective detail is as professional and capable as one could find anywhere in the world. Their expertise was about to be tested.

The opening of the new National Care center was a BIG DEAL. It would provide cutting edge medical care, in many areas pace-setting care to nearly a third of Canada’s population. Constructed a great cost, it was the Government’s response to critic’s claims that the National Health Care System was being ignored. It featured over 2,200 beds, making it one of the largest hospitals in the world. As would befit such an opening, the attendee’s were a veritable "Who’s Who" of Canadian politics. Terrorists would have called it a target-rich environment.

As the Project team approached the hospital building they affixed identification badges to their jackets. It would be incorrect to describe the badges as counterfeit since they appeared in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police data base, as well as all other proper data bases across Canada. The Project team members, none of whom had ever visited Canada, would, if "run" show as Citizens by birth. The Project had found entering the RCMP high security computer system to be child’s play. It had been easy to get the correct passwords, lapel button colors and other identifying details to give the team all the access it needed.

The team split, with one man heading in a different direction than the other two. The chance that they might all be killed completing their mission never crossed their minds. If it had, it would have been accepted gladly. They were protecting Earth with their lives, what could be more important than that?

All three men made it through the outer security cordon without incident. Once inside they set about their different tasks.

The man who had entered the hospital alone made his way to his target area. He was mostly alone in the hallways, the hospital had not yet begun to accept patients, and his only company were construction workers hurrying to finish the small details that always appeared at the end of any building job. None of these workers paid him more than a glance as they went about their tasks. He had plenty of time to reach his target, enough that he was able to look at the hospital rooms and it’s set-up. It was, he imagined, all that the Canadians proclaimed it to be, but, when compared to the Project facilities he had visited, especially the one on the moon, it seemed primitive. It was no wonder that it was up to The Project to defend Earth if this was the best a non-Project facility could manage.

He reached his target twelve second early. That was well within mission parameters. He knocked on the door.

"Who’s there?"

"Roving patrol number nine. My radio is screwed. I need a replacement."

"What’s your ID code?"

"Mike Victor three six Juliet eight"

Inside the security room, the RCMP officer ran the code. It matched a name. "Hold you identification up to the scanner."

The Project killer easily complied. Any observer would have, if pressed for a comment, remarked on the unremarkable nature of the scene.

The RCMP officer confirmed the ID against the computer’s information. There was still one last test.

"Password." This was the final verification. The word changed every four hours, it was impossible for an intruder to know it.

"Lincoln."

"Right." The Mountie shook his head at the passwords selected for the evening. Every one was the name of someone who had been assassinated. The last one had been Trotsky. Somebody had a truly demented sense of humor.

"Come in." The killer was welcomed into the security room as a friend. As he had been briefed, there were three men in the room.

"So, I don’t recognize you. Are you part of the Western-"

The man stopped talking as the disrupter did its work. Before they could react, or even recognize the threat, the Security man used the disrupter two more times eliminating the other two men in the Security Room. The assassin grimaced as he realized that the disrupter beam had swept across one man’s head, resulting a copious amount of blood loss. That was counter to standing orders, he was supposed to have hit the man’s body. He’d made a mistake, that was two more than he was allowed.

His work done, he left a small marble set for a four minute delay, locked the door behind him, and walked to the elevator.

"Phase one complete."

"Understood. Proceed with phase two."

With the security office unoccupied the second task was simplicity itself. Taking the service elevator to the roof access hatch took less than two minutes. Accessing the roof and reaching the HVAC system took another minute. After that it took only seconds for the smoke grenade to begin to fill the air conditioning system with smoke.

As the smoke began to spread the marble went off in the security office. This marble was designed to affect a very small area, it severed all communication throughout the building, knocked out the automated fire alarms and left the security camera system dead.

"Phase two complete."

Now all the assassins had to do was wait. They did not have time to grow bored.

The smoke was gradually moving through the HVAC system. It took several minutes to reach the main lobby of the hospital building. When it did, it set off a predetermined series of events.

First came the radio call to the Security room, followed by a landline call to the security room. Even if the men inside had been alive they could not have responded, the marble had fried every piece of electronic equipment in the room. By the time of the second call was made the smoke was too thick to ignore and the gala was broken up by the arrival of the first fire vehicles called by the Protective Details. While the crowd’s exit did not quite reach the stage of panic, it was serious enough that the Protective Details pushed their principals out through the back-up exits. The armored SUV’s were waiting in the parking garage, with Ottawa Police and RCMP dignitary protective officers waiting to help rush the dignitaries into their vehicles and off to safety. It should have been perfect, the event was well drilled, and everyone knew his or her part. Today, this included two killers.

Both of the assassins had made it inside the protective bubble surrounding the vehicles. They worked their way to the rear doors of the two primary escape SUV’s and waited.

First to die was the Governor General, followed seconds later by his wife. Their bodyguards pushed them through the door, as their training dictated. It was not until their SUV had exited onto the street that the fact that they were not breathing was noticed. By then it was too late for everyone.

The Prime Minister and his wife had made it into the second SUV, along with two bodyguards. As the SUV began to move, the chief of the Protective Detail suddenly slumped over, Seconds later the PM’s wife also fell over.

"Jesus Christ! Stop the truck! Something in here is knocking people out! Get the back-up vehicle in here NOW!"

Even though the driver didn’t recognize the voice telling him to stop he complied. If he was in the back, he had to be one of the good guys. He was, of course, wrong. He rushed to the rear door of the vehicle to help with whatever was happening. He opened the door and died.

The Prime Minister was in shock. He had watched three people, including his wife, die before his eyes for no discernible reason. He was even more shocked at what happened next.

His body guard spoke, telling him, "Prime Minister. The Committee would like to remind you that you still have four children and a elderly set of parents who need you. Some things are too important to forget, and others are too important to ignore. Remember this in the days to come."

38.

02:15 AM Moscow Daylight Savings Time

The two North American attacks had been purely educational, done to remind the Political Members of where the real power lay. The punitive attack was to be here, in Russia.

Davidson was convinced that the Russian President was the man who had defied The Committee and had cost The Project over a Billion Euros. Worse, he had dared to physically strike out at The Project, even though he KNEW that The Enemy was at hand. That was tantamount to treason against the entire Planet. The Project was all the Human race had between itself and The Enemy. To interfere in The Project’s work was the same as genocide. The world had long since decided on the penalty for genocide, The Project would simply carry it out.

The Russian Hit Team had a far longer, and less comfortable, journey than either of their North American counterparts. Russia is BIG. The Siberian base was seven TIME ZONES distant from Moscow, and Russia’s road network was a poor cousin to that of the United States’ in 1935. The Roads through Siberia had two states, Hard or Mud. Hard occurred during the long cold winter, once the mud froze, and during the short, mosquito filled summers, after the mud had dried out. When muddy the roads were virtually impassible, in Winter, the Cold was so severe that even a small mistake would lead to death or disfigurement. This made Summer the preferred driving season, at least the biting bugs wouldn’t kill you, at least not directly. The Russian Team’s travel time had determined the date of all the attacks, their tactical needs had dictated the timing of the North American actions.

It would have been simpler, from the tactical perspective, to have timed the Moscow attack to coordinate with attacks elsewhere in Europe, given the time differences between Oregon or Ottawa and the Russian Capital. Davidson had decided against this, as attacks in London or Paris would have serious repercussions in the European stock & currency markets. He believed that attacks in the wilds of the American Northwest and in Ottawa, would have shorter, less severe consequences in the North American & World markets. This was vital to Project, and incidentally, his investments. His only concern was for The Project’s resources, that his were also protected was simply a coincidence.

The Russian Project team had, like everyone in Russia, heard about the total replacement of President Samoylov’s bodyguard force. Unlike everyone else in Russia they had been forced to make significant changes in their plans because of the shuffle.

Unlike the American Secret Service, with it’s almost institutional paranoia and near constant security checks, the Russian FRS had proved to be slightly easier to subvert. The Project had infiltrated no less than four Security Agents into Samoylov’s protective detail. They had been the ones who were supposed to Sanction the Russian leader if the need arose. It had not occurred to anyone that Samoylov would listen to someone even more paranoid than the Secret Service. Just how paranoid, and how single-minded, Markov could be was about to be demonstrated.

The Project wanted to be very sure of success in Samoylov’s assassination. This desire had increased with the replacement of his regular bodyguard by the SPECOPS troops. If they could, despite this change, kill Samoylov, and his family, no one would dare to defy The Committee ever again. This would assure that The Enemy would be defeated when the time came.

The Project had lavished attention and effort on their Russian Team. As large as both North American teams combined, they planned to gain entry from both guard post at the same moment. They expected no difficulty in penetrating the Vympel perimeter. As had been done in Canada, Russian computer records had not simply been broken into, they had been rewritten down to the root programs. No sign of hacking would be found since the actual program had been completely overwritten. The only sign that Project interference had occurred was that some code lines were better than those they had replaced. Even this change was so subtle that it would have taken the original programmer to notice the difference.

All of the Russian Project assassins had perfect documents, identification badges and papers that matched the originals to the finest detail. The uniforms they wore were straight from Vympel stocks, every detail, right down to the way their boot s were laced and the foot coverings they wore instead of socks, was Vympel normal. The uniforms even showed signs of use, one man’s boots were in need of resoling. Their disguise was perfect; they had no doubt that they could pass any identity check that the Vympel could devise.

Samoylov would die. The Project would be protected.

"We are almost there. Be sure that you act normally. These Vympel are supposed to be very clever."

"How clever can they be? They are not Project."

"Caution my friend. We do not have the corner on the clever market."

"As you say. A policemen is a policemen."

The men approached the first checkpoint with just the right amount of swagger.

The gate guard moved toward them with his hand out. "Halt! Who are you!"

"We are here as part of the relief watch." Replied the Security Agent.

"Identify yourselves!"

The three men extended their identification documents.

"I said Identify yourselves!" As he repeated his order, the Security Agents heard the clicks of several safeties being switched to the fire position.

"Steady. We don’t want to fight them out here, even with our special weapons. Just take it easy." The Hit Team leader sub-vocalized.

"Friend, we are trying. Look at our papers. We are scheduled to relieve part of the guard force. Look at our orders." The assassin asked.

"For the last time, Identify yourselves!" Shouted the guard.

"The password is Beluga. Please, just check-"

TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT

The chatter of two 12.7 mm heavy machineguns shattered the night’s stillness. When they finished firing, the sound of two other machineguns could be heard on the other side of the Place Complex. Cautiously, three of the Vympel approached the bodies crumpled in front of the gate. Behind them the sound of klaxons and running feet indicated that help was on the way. Covered by his partners, one of the commandos pushed up the right sleeve of the man who had been speaking. Finding nothing he picked up the severed right arm of one of the other corpses

"Yob’ tvoyu Mat’! Intruder Alert!"

The radio on the guard’s belt came to life.

"No Sir."

"Three Sir. Just a moment." The gate guard handed the radio to the man who had sounded the alarm.

"Yes Sir. None of them. Yes sir, I’m sure."

Markov had been correct. The Project had thought so little of the Vympel that they hadn’t bothered to even research them. EVERY member of the unit had the identical tattoo on the inside of their right arm. Those who had been assigned to the guard force had all been instructed to show the tattoo immediately upon being challenged. Those who failed to comply were to be killed. The simplicity of it was stunning. It was something that only a man who had survived many times when others had died would have thought up. In short, it was something that would have only occurred to a soldier.

The Project had failed to complete the most important part of their plan. Had they succeeded, the political alliance that Samoylov and Hendriks had constructed might have collapsed. Now, however, there would now be consequences for their failure in Russia and for their "successes" in North America.

It has long been said that warfare is the sole property of Nations. It was nearly time for The Committee to learn the truth of this statement.

39.

Hendriks’ first considered thought when he heard about the coordinated attacks was to protect his family, and the family of President James. He immediately sent his wife and daughters by military convoy to Fort Bragg NC. When they arrived there they were immediately taken to the "Stockade", the Headquarters area for Delta Force. Once inside they were taken to the underground planning bunker, which had been rapidly converted to acceptable living quarters. Above them, Fort Bragg went into lockdown. Nothing moved without proper orders, no one was allowed on base without the proper authorization. Inside the "Stockade" perimeter the rule was simple, anyone who was not a member of the First Family or part of Squadron A was to be shot on sight. No one at Bragg had any inkling of Markov’s instructions, it was a case of trained professionals coming up with similar solutions to the same problem. Outside of the Delta perimeter additional rings of protection were created, these were manned by a virtual "Who’s who" of American Special Operations Forces. At the outmost defensive ring was a full brigade the 101^st Airborne division. Above the Base, flying racetrack patterns, a full squadron of F-22A Raptors flew Combat Air Patrol while F-15E Strike Eagles and FA-35 JSF attack planes circled, waiting to pounce on any unauthorized ground target.

The security for President James’ family was nearly as impressive. Having been taken to Fort Lewis, Washington, the former President, his wife and elder daughter sat inside a steel ring built around 2/75^th Rangers with a Stryker Brigade and part of the 4-6 Air Cav arrayed around the Rangers. One Platoon of Rangers, along with a Troop of the Air Cav scoured the area around the James Ranch for any sign of Madison or her bodyguard. The skies over Fort Lewis held an air armada equal to that patrolling the Blue skies of North Carolina. James’s son, who had been visiting friends in Southern California, was being watched over at Camp Pendleton by the better part of a Marine MAU and Seal Team Two.

Once he had seen to the safety of the James’ and his own family (who were as well protected as could be accomplished, safe unless Project assassins could make one of the military bases disappear by saying a magic word), Hendriks began to ask questions. Lots of them.

"What the fuck is happening? Are there and more reported attacks?"

Manny Ortega was the one unlucky enough to have the answers. "Mr. President we have no idea what exactly happened. We have not heard of any additional attacks. Our initial information from Oregon indicates that the attackers there had a previously unknown weapon. It seems to be some sort of a Heat Beam, but we really don’t know. We have two dead assassins and one in Intensive Care with a ruptured lung and a bruised liver. From all accounts this man should be VERY dead, but he was saved by some advanced body armor all the killers were wearing. Beside President James, his wife & daughter, we only have one witness, a new Secret Service Agent. From what we have so far, he’s a real hard case." Coming from Ortega, who had spent time chasing Islamists while working for a three letter U.S. Government Agency, this was high praise.

"What about Maddie?"

"There’s no sign of her or her Secret Service escort Mr. President. We have found two burned areas on the riding trail that she was supposed to be using. We will keep looking, but"

"Yea. Fuckers killed her. An eight year old kid. Bastards!"

Ortega was smart enough not to point out that Madison was only 7 & a half.

"What about Ottawa?"

"The enemy got very lucky there. No losses on their part and they appear to have killed exactly who they wanted to eliminate. Ambassador Erickson has communicated that the PM was forced to watch his wife’s murder. The Governor General and his wife were also both killed. From what we have heard it sounds like that cell breaker was the murder weapon."

"Samoylov got away okay?"

"Yes sir. The head of his protective force is the same man who contacted General Budman with Samoylov’s original letter. He seems to be a rather direct individual, but quite effective."

"That’s an understatement, if what we hear is correct." Hendriks sighed as he continued. "What are our losses?"

"In Oregon we have nine agents missing and, of course, Maddie. Based on Agent Ellis’ initial debrief, we are unlikely to find any significant remains."

"Bullshit. We will NOT tell those Agent’s families, much less August James, that we can’t be sure what happened to their loved ones. I do not care if we have to send every coroner, medical examiner, and forensic whatever in government service out there we WILL find something. Is that CLEAR!"

In the outer office the secretaries and at least one of the Secret Service Agents looked like at the office door & shuddered at the sound in Hendriks voice. Rage did not begin to cover it, it held traces of emotions so primitive that they bore no names but their sound cut right through to the simian instinct that lurks deep in every human. It was a sound that spoke of sorrow and anger and, above all, death. Coming from the POTUS, it was a terrifying sound.

"Yes Mr. President."

"Good."

"Here’s what we are going to do next. Number One-" Hendriks was interrupted by the trilling of a phone on his desk. He turned, mainly to see who was about to get fired for failing to follow his instructions to hold ALL calls, when he realized that it was the "Doomsday" phone calling for his attention. A holdover from the days of the Cold War it was a direct landline from the Kremlin. Supposedly only Samoylov was supposed to have access to it in Russia and Hendriks had the only access in the United States. The concept may have been an old one but the security around the phone was anything but old fashioned. To answer the call Hendriks had to input a P.I.N, have his palm AND retina scanned, and then enter a different P.I.N. By the time he was able to pick up the handset Hendriks half expected for the Russian President to have hung up.

"This is President Hendriks."

"My Dear Friend, how are you this sad day?" The phone had the strange clipped sound that was common to high scrambler systems. Even so Samoylov’s voice was recognizable.

"Very unhappy Mr. President."

"I understand perfectly. I had the opportunity to meet President James’ family at the G-8 summit two years ago. It is true about the little one?"

"It seems so. We continue to search, but the signs are not good."

"Fascists. It is like the stories my Grandfather used to tell me. The faces change, but the enemy remains the same. We must do something to show then they have failed."

"I agree. I am working on a plan that will cripple them, at least part of The Project."

"As am I. We will need to discuss this in more detail later. I mean we need to show them at once."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I propose this"

40.

It had taken several somewhat dangerous phone calls to make the arrangements necessary to put Samoylov’s plan into action. It had then required some personal visits to various addresses in seven countries to finalize the plan. Given the coordination required, it was miraculous that all the parts came together as quickly as they did.

Hendriks could only shake his head in admiration at Samoylov’s plan. Part of his brain whispered that the Russian President could be a very dangerous foe, even as the rest of him revelled in the events that were certain to come to pass in the next day or less.

Clever Bastard!

****

The young Leader RAN into the Command compartment, showing his youth AND a fully extended crest.

"Commander!"

TH’’kr’hT turned as the youngster slid to a stop. "What is it young one?

"We have received MESSAGES!"

"From the Earthers? We have received others before. Why are these different?"

"These are High Powered Signals. They are not just aimed at our original broadcast point, they are being sent continuously. Even as I left the communications lab, having translated the first message, we were receiving another one from what seems to be a different High Powered source. The first message we have translated is in what the Earther’s call "Russian" The second message seemed to be in a different language "English". We will be able to translate the English message more quickly that the Russian one. We have a much greater data base of English "words"!" The sub-adult was nearly bouncing off the deck, despite the artificial gravity.

TH’’kr’hT forced himself to remain calm. It had been 10 watch cycles since he had ordered the original message to be sent, He had almost given up hope of a reply.

"What does the message say?"

"Commander?" The leader suddenly realized that he was still clutching the translation in his right claws. "Sir. Excuse my lack of decorum. I am shamed."

"Just give me the message, You are forgiven you impoliteness."

"Commander."

TH’’kr’hT opened the translation.

WE RECEIVED YOUR TRANSMISSION HAVE. EVENTS DELAY REPLY. MORE COMPLETE REPLY WILL SEND. SOON COME IT WILL. VENUS CONFIRM AS (GARBLE) PLACE INTEREST. PLEASE

NOT RESPOND PLEASE. TIME GOOD NOT TRANSMISSION (GARBLE). CONTACT MAKE WITH AGAIN YOU.

(GARBLE) (GARBLE)

(WORD NOT KNOWN)

RUSSIA MEGA COMMON

Events delay reply. Thought TH’’kr’hT. What events? Of course! The Rouge GR’ph’fr"SR. They must be Crusading against them.

The Earthers asked for no reply. The GR’ph’fr"SR may have gone rouge because of The People’s message. The Commander asked GG"lR’o to favor the Earther leaders. Even if, in the end, they would not share, no species deserved Rouge GR’ph’fr"SR.

****

"WHAT!" Roared Davidson.

"We have detected outgoing deep space transmissions from Australia, Canada, China, Great Britain, Russia, and the United States. They are so similar that it is obvious that they are, allowing for differences in the languages, the same text." The young Security Agent replied.

"Who is doing this? Those SETI morons? That is the last cent we give them!"

"No Sir. At least it is not the regular SETI researchers."

" If it not those SETI fools, then WHO IS IT!"

"We have not been able to reach any of the sites. The American Site has been taken over by elements of the U.S. Marine Corps, at least part of the Marine unit is what they call Force Recon. Our regular SETI operative was not able to get close enough to the site to determine all the troops involved."

"The American transmission facility is under military GUARD?"

"Yes sir. Our Operative reports that signage is displayed that identifies the area as a "Deadly Force Authorized" location. That is the same designation as the American Groom Lake facility."

"So the Americans are claiming that they will shoot anyone attempting to enter the SETI Very Large Array facility?"

"Not just claiming sir. We have lost three Agents who were following protocols for shutting down any unauthorized transmission to The Enemy. We have also lost Agents in Canada and Russia. The Australian Security Team has not yet reached their transmission facility, but it would be a very great surprise if the Australian facility is not guarded as well."

"So they mice think they can bell the cat, do they?"

"Sir?"

"Never mind. Send an emergency message to all Advisers. They are to contact, in person if possible, their government leader. There will be a meeting of The Committee in twelve hours time. The Advisers are to inform the politicians that anyone who does not appear will be Sanctioned."

The Security Agent’s eyes literally bugged out. "Sir? We can’t-"

"We goddamn well can. These bastards have gone too far. They will either resign, submit to a memory wipe & life long monitoring or else. How dare they DEFY ME!

"What are you still doing here! Get that message sent!"

Samoylov’s plan had successfully entered Phase Two.

****

Secret Service Supervisory Special Agent Joe Reed was just pulling into his driveway when he got the emergency transmission via his implant. At least he had enough time to go inside, access the full message, and get a few hours of sleep before things started. He hoped he would not have to kill Mitch Hendriks. The man had some very good qualities, assuming he was not a threat to The Project. If he was, then he would die. Threats to The Project could not be allowed to survive. It was too important to protect The Project for emotions to interfere. Hopefully it was just a childish reaction to the James action. Reed thought that the action had been foolish, but he was not yet part of The Committee. Perhaps in a year or two.

James used his enhanced senses without even realizing he was doing so. His enhanced vision allowed him to see in the darkness as well if it was broad daylight. He heard, without really listening, the neighbors discussing their money problems. Even his reflexes allowed him to sprint up the stairs more quickly than an un-enhanced human. Overall the implant gave Reed a sense of self confidence that bordered, but did not quite reach, arrogance. Reaching the door of his Georgetown home, he inserted the key, opened the door-

BOOM!

"Well, that it for you, damned child killing bastard. Hope you burn in hell. At least we got you off to a good start."

The SEAL Operator collapsed the antenna on a transmitter that would have been very familiar to some Delta Operators just back from Brazil. While no one had officially told the SEAL Crew that Reed was responsible for Madison’s death (itself still only a rumor in the SPECOPS community) he couldn’t think of many other reasons that the National Command Authority would have to kill a supervisory Special Agent from the President’s Bodyguard. He gathered up the other three men of his Crew by eye and left the area before the cops arrived. He was sure that his handiwork would make the late news and he wanted to see who got blamed.

Reed had been improved in nearly every way it was possible to enhance a human being. The Project had missed only one thing, and it had killed him.

Space consists almost entirely of a vacuum, this means nothing can be found by scent. There is no reason to enhance a pilot’s (or anyone else’s) sense of smell. If they had, perhaps Reed would have noticed the loosened gas pipe that had been filling his house with an explosive volume of gas before he opened the door.

Lacking that extra ability, Reed died. It took firefighters the better part of an hour to pry Reed’s torso off of his Mercedes and find all the missing body parts.

His death was not part of Samoylov’s plan. His death was a down payment on Maddie James’ accounts payable. Full collection of that debt had become Mitch Hendricks’ personal mission in life.

41.

Hendriks was waiting for the announcement. When it arrived he had to hold down a chuckle.

"Bring him in."

Padrig Thomas was escorted into the Oval Office by four Secret Service agents, all of whom had been verified, recertified, and given medical scans from the hairs on their heads to the tips of their toenails, just in case there was some sort of an implant under their skin. All four of the agents looked like they could fold Padrig up neatly into a pocket handkerchief on a whim. It was not the way that the Adviser was used to being treated.

"Mr. President, as you know our discussions are private."

"Not today. Concern over the recent terrorist acts has compelled me to accept more serious security than in the past."

Thomas noticed that the President was showing no emotions at all. Padrig assumed he was scared stiff, as he should be, given the stupidity he had displayed in the past day.

"Very well. Can we compromise on Supervisory Agent Reed? Surely he will serve as sufficient protection?"

"Oh, I’m sorry. You haven’t heard?"

"Heard what Mr. President?"

"Agent Reed was the victim of a tragic accident last night. He was killed in a natural gas explosion."

For the first time in many years, Padrig found himself at a loss for words. Reed was a Splinter PILOT! They didn’t HAVE accidents.

"Mr. Thomas? Are you felling unwell? Please have a seat."

Thomas allowed himself to be more or less carried to a chair.

"Now then, what did you want to tell me?"

Thomas thought until he found a way to get his message across without violating his oaths. After a minute or so he found one.

"The meetings that we have attended in the past? There is another one in thirty minutes. It is critical to you that you attend."

"I bet it is. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t miss this for the world."

"Excellent. Until next time" Thomas tried to stand, a very strong hand pressing down on his shoulder stopped his attempt.

"Please, wait just a moment. I have a few additional things to discuss."

"Of course Mr. President."

Hendriks nodded at the agents enveloping Thomas. More quickly than he would have thought possible, Thomas found his hands cuffed behind his back, and when he attempted to stand, he found that similar cuffs were around his ankles.

"What is the meaning of this! Do you understand what you are doing, what the consequences of this will be?"

Hendriks allowed himself a smile. "Do you mean I could be killed by some poor implanted bastard?" Thomas’ head snapped up. "Yea, we know about that little trick. Amazing thing about explosions is that they are fickle. Sometimes they will blow everything into matchsticks, sometimes something large, say a human head, will be thrown clear."

"I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about."

"As you wish. Would you care to tell me where I could find Mr. Davidson and the rest of The Committee?

Thomas’ complexion went beet red to ashen. "You are a dead man!" The comment earned him a none to gentle smack to the head from one of the agents.

"Mind your manners asshole. That is the President of the UNITED STATES you are talking to." The agent looked toward Hendricks "Beg your pardon Sir."

"No need. He is an asshole." Addressing Thomas, Hendricks said "Last chance, where is Davidson?"

"Go to hell! Traitor!"

Hendricks shook his head. "You first." Hendriks motioned with his head and the agents carried Thomas from the room. "Wait!"

The Agents carrying Thomas stopped at once.

"Mr. Thomas, as President of the United States I am informing you that your services are not longer required. As I do not wish for you to be harmed by Project assassins I am ordering you to be taken into protective custody. You may go."

As Thomas was taken out of one door Ortega and Budman came in the other.

"Well, we can add kidnapping to the Articles of Impeachment."

"Yes sir."

"Mike, is all set?"

"Yes Sir. Mr. Thomas will be taking a nice sea voyage. He will be choppered out to the Essex within the hour. She is sailing with the TR’s battle group."

"Good. I want answers Mike. Whatever it takes. God have mercy on me, but whatever it takes."

"Understood Sir. The orders are to as gentle as they can, but to get the locations of as many Committee members as possible. Unless he has some kind of memory block we’ll know soon."

"Good. I have a meeting to attend. Manny, if you will be so kind as to join me?"

"Certainly Mr. President."

****

The meeting started exactly on schedule. As always the Committee President, the Australian PM called the meeting to order.

"I assume there is new business?"

"Yes there is!" Davidson found himself cut off. When Finance tried to speak he also found himself cut off, able to see & hear, but not to speak. Quickly all of the Permanent Members, with the exceptions of Security and Defense, had been cut off.

"The chair recognizes the Canadian representative."

"Thank you Mr. President." The Canadian PM looked haunted around his eyes, but his voice was firm, even strong.

"The Permanent Members of the Committee have committed a series of illegal acts, as defined under the Project charter. These acts include: The Sanction of the Indian Prime Minister without full Committee consensus. Ordering the Murder of some One Thousand two hundred and thirty-six Indian citizens while effecting the illegal Sanction of Kamal Bainiwal. Ordering the murder of Madison James, age 7, daughter of a past member of this Committee without full Committee consensus. The Murder of nine U.S. Secret Service Agents. The.." The Canadian’s voice began to shake, "I yield the floor to the Representative of Great Britain." Slowly the widowed PM’s head bowed down. The other politicians made efforts to look at other screens.

The British PM took over, he was clearly angry, the emotion freshened by the pain he saw in his friend and Ally.

"The Permanent Members of the Committee have also Ordered the Murder of Her Majesty’s Governor General to Canada and his Wife without full Committee Consensus. Ordered the Murder of The Canadian Representative’s Wife without Full Committee Consensus. Ordering the Sanction of the Russian Representative without full Committee consensus.

"How does the Senior Representative of the Permanent Member respond to these charges?"

Suddenly able to be heard, Davidson exploded. "You have no right to do this. I have been part of this Project since you were in school! We Defend the Planet! You are nothing but money conduits! We decide-" Davidson continued to shout, but no one heard.

"Well," remarked the Committee President, "We seem to have our response. Is there a motion? The Chair recognizes the French representative."

The French President was a late convert, this, perhaps, explained his fervor. "I move that ALL funding be suspended for The Project until the killers of the Canadian Prime Minister’s wife, The Governor General of Canada and his Wife, and all those who authorized these killings as well as all other illegal killings are surrendered to The Governments of Canada, Great Britain, India, or the United States of America. I further move that control of the Security and Military branches of The Project be placed in the hands of a sub-Committee consisting of the politically elected leadership of all Project Nations."

"Second?"

"I second the motion." This came from the Canadian PM.

"There is a motion on the floor that has been properly moved and seconded. All in favor say Aye. Opposed? The motion carries unanimously."

Although he tried mightily, the Australian PM couldn’t help but glance at the screens of the Permanent Members. Several, especially Finance looked like they were trying to crawl through the wires and get to the politicians. Being a Litigator, as well as a politician, the PM managed to keep a straight face.

"Is there any other business? The Chair recognizes the Russian Representative."

"Thank you. I propose that the newly established sub-Committee take full charge of all Committee activities, pending the resolution of all pending charges against Permanent Members. I further propose that the Committee establish formal communication with the Alien race currently attempting to establish dialogue with Earth. I propose that all Permanent Members of The Committee place themselves in Protective Custody, as designated by the head of any Project Member Nation. Lastly I propose that all Project member states be authorized to use whatever force they deem necessary to enforce any or all actions of the sub-Committee."

"Is there a motion?"

Hendriks spoke first. "I move that the Russian Representative’s proposals be adopted without change."

"I second the Motion." Said the Israeli representative.

"All in favor say Aye. Opposed? The motion carries unanimously."

"Is there any other business? No? I move we adjourn."

"Seconded."

"All in favor? Opposed? The motion carries unanimously. We are adjourned."

42.

"They will not get away with this!" Davidson had restarted The Committee meeting as soon as the Australian PM had logged off. "They will not!"

"We seem to be in a weakened position. The National Governments have the ability to cut off our funding. They CAN do what they have threatened." Planning made it absolutely clear that he thought the Project was checked.

"No. We will not let them give the Planet to The Enemy. We still have Defense and Security. We will regain control." Davidson said.

""What can we do? They have no fear of us any more. We failed in our attempt to intimidate them." Finance noted. "Even the Canadian was defiant. We killed three people in front of his eyes, and he was still defiant!"

"The shock has not worn off. In a week he will be a mess." Davidson looked at the faces on the monitors. "What is wrong with ALL OF YOU! The Planet’s defense is in our hands. We must defeat this rebellion. THEY WANT TO TALK TO THE ENEMY!

"Don’t you understand? This is why we have sacrificed so much, for so long! This is our test. We have to be up to this task. If we are not, The Enemy WILL feast on our Planet. They WILL kill our families, abuse of wives and daughters, and enslave us all! Our worst fears will come true!"

Davidson looked for some spark of resistance, he found it in Research.

"You are right. Our life’s work, wasted. We can adapt some of the space plane weapons to work against ground targets. The plans are available. We always knew we might have to wipe out a small Enemy force on the ground. Security has a small force that is trained for ground attack. We can not fight them all over, but we can be powerful. They will be far less dismissive if we destroy one of their military bases. Defense and Security can do it!"

Davidson fixed Aden with his gaze. "Can we rely on you for such an attack?"

Aden showed resolve as he spoke "I serve The Committee. You can rely on me to follow orders! You can rely on my crews to do the same!"

"Good. No more of this foolish mutiny talk then?"

"No Sir. Defense will do the right thing! We will defend Mankind! We WILL keep our Promises!"

"That’s what we need right now. We need Defense to act for the Planet.

"Security, what can you offer?"

"Most of my resources are still available. We have lost contact with some of our agents. I still have one among the American President’s bodyguard that I spoke to just before we began today. The Agent is still allowed access to the inner protective perimeter. I have sleepers in Great Britain, Australia, and China that have regular access to the Leaders. The assassins we used were drawn from the ground interdiction force, but we still have enough men left to clean up if Defense can disable most of the defenses around a target."

"Excellent." Davidson was regaining most of his composure. "Finance, how long will it take for the change in cash flow to begin to impact our operations?"

"It is hard to be certain, but if we can keep our businesses active, it should be at least six weeks before we see any effect at all. After that, the Government Contractors who are actually working directly for us will begin to see their funding dry up."

"We will not need to take that long to correct this. Who do you all see as the leaders of this rebellion?"

"The Russian"

"Yes, The Russian."

"The American. You can see his arrogance."

"I agree. It is the American."

"The American."

"Hendriks."

"The Russian. He is the clever one."

"President Samoylov."

As always it came back to Davidson. "I believe you are all correct. President Samoylov has always struck me as a plotter. It is a habit of his kind. Hendriks had barely joined The Committee when things began to veer off course. He is too direct to have brought them all together without our seeing it. Still, I believe that he is the driving force. He was, I believe, a paratrooper?"

"An American Ranger, Sir. They are commandos."

"Of course. The Russian plans, and his American attack dog acts. Good.

"Defense, Can we make two successful ground attacks on military bases?"

"No sir. We lack the air to ground weapons to overwhelm two bases. They are sure to be on full alert and in good defensive positions."

Davidson glanced to the screen showing Research and found him nodding agreement.

"Very well. I propose we act Gentlemen. We will remove the driving force, and keep the clever one under observation. Hendriks must be Sanctioned. Security says we have an agent in place to perform the Sanction. We must also kill the Traitor’s family. The News media says they are at an army base."

"Fort Bragg Mr. Davidson. North Carolina."

"Admiral, that is your target. Can you act in twenty-four hours?"

"Yes Sir."

"Security. Coordinate your attack on the American Fort with Defense. Have your Agent Sanction Hendriks AFTER he hears of his family’s death. I want him to know the error he has made. I want him to feel the cost of it."

"Yes Mr. Davidson."

"However, if the attack fails, or it is delayed, He must die within a day. This has to be stopped before they hand the keys to the Planet to those Monsters!"

"As you say Mr. Davidson."

"Any objections gentlemen? Excellent. We will be back on the proper path in a few days. Until then."

Davidson turned the conference call off. He would have that Bastard’s hide tanned and placed on his wall. A Paratrooper? Defying The Committee? What gall.

****

"That went well."

"If you say so Mr. President."

"We have The Committee off balance and reacting to US for a change."

"Off balance is a positive. Reacting may not be." Ortega explained.

"I know. They are in a corner. That makes them very dangerous. Still, I think we’ve seen their best attempt with that happened to Maddie and in Canada." Replied Hendriks.

"Maybe Sir. I just don’t know."

"Talk to me Manny. You’re my National Security Adviser, so advise."

"The Project is, in many ways, a government, and a wealthy one at that. It just seems odd that they would only have twelve people to conduct attacks. It is even stranger that they would have no way to defend their bases from ground attack, or to destroy a small Alien landing, if one got through their defenses. As paranoid as they are, it just doesn’t make sense."

"Maybe they expected the regular armed forces to deal with any small landing."

"Its possible Sir. But given the distain they have shown for anything not run by The Committee directly, it doesn’t make sense. They assume that the Alien attackers would be extremely powerful, but they leave a ground attack to us? We don’t have, excuse me, didn’t have, any of their fancy weapons. How would they know we wouldn’t get our butts kicked?"

"Interesting point. But Reed told me they were planning an all or nothing in space."

"Yes Sir he did. I am not sure that I would accept everything the late Agent Reed told you at face value."

"Dammit. You’re right. Get on the secure lines and warn our partners. Even a hundred men armed with those heat weapons would be one hell of a threat."

"Yes Mr. President."

****

Admiral Aden had spent several hours discussing, in detail, how Security would conduct their part of the assault. By the time he finished with Security he knew all he needed to complete his planning. It would be a difficult thing to coordinate. But he knew he had to begin immediately if the Planet was to be saved.

"Sir."

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"You have a visitor. He is not on you calendar, but he is most insistent."

"Who is it?"

"The Special Recon Squadron commander."

"Very well. Send him in."

The Groom Lake commander had only spoken to the Englishman twice, once when he assumed command of the Base and once when some of his MP’s had arrested some of the Squadron’s members for DUI. He hadn’t really liked either contact. The Englishman hadn’t been rude, just distant, and arrogant, even for the commander of a super secret unit. This should be interesting.

"Good Afternoon General."

"Group Captain. How can I help you?"

"I am here to request political asylum for me and my command."

"WHAT?"

"I will explain. There is much to tell & little time to tell it. It all started"

43.

The mission profile was simple, They had trained for it since they had joined up. Go in, do the job, and get back out. Head home & have a beer or three. It was probably what the people who had come up with the mission was expected.

Wrong Again.

It had seemed to be a great idea when The Permanent Members had agreed to it. Destroy Fort Bragg. Then Security had actually looked at the map. Two Hundred & Fifty-One square MILES of North Carolina was occupied by Fort Bragg. The Base was larger than Singapore. Granted, most of it was forested, or firing ranges, but destroying it was a bit much to expect from sixty men, even sixty very well armed, utterly dedicated men. Especially when you added in the fact that the Base was home to 40,000 American troops, many of them at least as dedicated as the Project Security Teams.

It didn’t really matter. The Project was at stake, It had to be done.

Fort Brag has 15 security gates. Five of them are for "visitors". The rest are for vehicles that have the proper stickers and passes. Every person entering the Base has to present a Photo Identification. The security at the gates is formidable. The assault plan depended on it.

The Project Security Agents had split into a number of small groups, driving a mixture of civilian cars, U.S. military vehicles, and commercial delivery trucks. Unlike as single building, it was impossible to simple shut the facility down. Fort Brag was a City, tens of thousands of military personnel AND civilian dependents lived on the base. Some had been evacuated when the First Family had arrived, but there simply had not been enough time to move all the non-combatants out. Even if they had all left, the sheer number of troops on the Base meant a steady flow of traffic could not be avoided.

Project Security had failed in recent days, both in the protection of Project resources and in accomplishment of Project missions. Security Agents were, of all the utterly dedicated members of the Project, the most fanatical. They had committed themselves to protect The Project. Unlike the noble vision embraced by Defense, which shared so much with the traditions of conventional Earth militaries, right down to the Promises of self sacrifice that each Defense member took, Security’s view was much simpler. Anything that threatened The Project had to be eliminated. Eliminated meant destroyed or dead. Failure was never acceptable. Human life, including their own, was secondary to mission success The recent failures had stung ALL Security members. Today would be different. The First Family WOULD Die. The Project WOULD be protected.

****

The trip to work was always the same. Car to Metro parking lot, Metro to The Federal Triangle Station. and a walk to the House. The routine was well established, as it was meant to be, today had been no different. Somehow, it should have been different, more memorable, it was a special day. It was not every day that someone became, not just a household name, but also an answer to an American History question. Today the Security Agent would gain fame, of a sort, mentioned in the same breath as Lee Harvey Oswald and John Wilkes Booth. Within ten hours, The Project would again be safe. It was all that mattered.

The Agent knew that this was God’s work. She had known it since her one great love had gone away on his Mission. He had never come back, which was rare, but she had believed that he had simply been too tempted by what he had found outside of Ogden. They had never been officially engaged, but they had spoken about it. She had been shattered, but she had, she thought, hidden it well. It was then that the contact had come. It had been the mystery of it that had fascinated her enough to meet with the man who told he that he could explain what had happened to Tommy. What he had told he was bizarre, but in a way it made perfect sense. It would have been so much like Tommy to want to help protect the World. He had died doing it, died because of some foul aliens that had no relationship to God. God had made Man in his image. God had sent His only Son to save Mankind, He did not send His Son to save aliens, not ones that looked like demons, or the dragons of her childhood. The man gave her a chance to make a difference. She could take Tommy’s place, help to defend the Planet. She had jumped at the chance.

While her parents were somewhat disappointed when she chose such a "different" career than the one she had proclaimed she wanted, how different could aspiring to be a Treasury Agent be from teaching grade school, they had supported her. Her sisters, and baby brother, had been awestruck the day she had gotten her shield. Her parents told everyone, with pride, of how their little girl protected The President of the United States. She hoped that the letter she had asked an old school friend to hand deliver to them would help them to understand what she had done, if not the actual reason.

Today was the day. She had been forced to compromise so many of her beliefs from childhood, in order to fit in with the other young agents. The coffee, alcohol, dating, sex, all of it was wrong, and she knew it. She was sure that God would forgive her, at least she very much hoped that He would, in a very real way she had committed her sins for the good of all of His children. Even the sin she would commit today.

****

The approach to the Base was made with some subtlety, especially when it was made with none at all. None of the Project Teams consisted of less than two or more than five people, depending on the vehicle. Every one of them had perfect Identification, backed up by the computer files those with stickers or temporary permits had the right ones and they entered through the right gate. One team waited, a back-up to the back-up plan. The Teams that had successfully entered the base scattered in a random, yet intended manner. They all waited for the Defense attack, Defense was supposed to reduce the opposition to a level that The Project agents could handle. No attack came. They waited for it to be late, no attack came. Finally, through implants and earpieces the order came, as a single code word.

"Lonely!"

The last resort play, the back-up to the back-up, to the back-up fell into place.

The only Team not already on the base made its appearance. Riding motorcycles, the preferred mode of transport for many of the young soldiers assigned to Fort Bragg the struck at two of the public and three of the restricted access gates. All five struck within 15 second of each other. Ten seconds later, the five access roads looked like the Highway of Death leading out of Kuwait. Using the same coherent energy weapons that had been so effective at the James Ranch, they set cars and trucks, and the very roadway aflame. The gate guards set off the warning klaxons and all hell broke loose.

One of the attackers was killed almost instantly by a burst of fire from the Bradley APC that was set behind the access gate. Even with his shipsuit the 25 mm chain gun simply tore the intruder to shreds. Two miles away, the result was different. There, the Project Agent recognized the threat posed by the Bradley and fired his weapon at it. In seconds the ammunition inside the Bradley began to cook off and the fuel tank exploded in flames. Protected by his suit this intruder was able to advance onto the grounds before a M2 .50 machine gun mounted on a Humvee hammered him into the ground. Having been briefed in the last 12 hours about the defensive capabilities of the shipsuit, the driver of the Humvee proceeded to run the Agent over, just to be sure.

At the other public gate a 101^st Air Assault Sniper team killed the Agent before he could even turn toward the gate with a head shot. The Agent still left more than one hundred dead and many others horribly burned. The Agent at Gate Twelve did the least damage as she entered the Base but she made up for it by the chaos he created. Timing her approach perfectly he actually made it through the gate and well into the Base itself, starting fires as he went. Her progress was extraordinary until she reached a strong point set up specifically to contain a successful intrusion. It was here that the Energy Weapon finally showed its limitation. As the Agent turned the corner and saw the strong point two hundred yards away she fired at it, with no significant effect. Several of the troopers holding the defensive position suddenly felt warm, but not so warm that they couldn’t open fire. The Shrapnel from a 40mm grenade found its way into the Agent’s brain, via the nasal cavity, and she toppled from the bike, still 50 meters short of her weapon’s effective range.

The final Agent used a different strategy. As all of his brethren had know, the Motorcycle attack was not a survivable mission. This had not bothered him, as it had not bothered his fellow Agents. He settled down to fight it out with Base Security. He was well hidden behind several abandoned cars, with the heat of burning vehicles behind him to mask his infrared signature. He was struck several times by sniper rounds, none of which caused him any injury. Unlike many of his fellows, he had taken the below shipsuit padding of his body to an extreme, not only did he have the suggested padding on, he also had mil-spec body armor on and he had placed the shipsuit’s hood up, covering his motorcycle helmet. When a fifty cal sniper round had impacted on the side of his head, all that had happened was that he had greyed out for a few seconds. The round had killed him, setting off internal bleeding in his brain, but he would live for several hours unless something intervened. After a ten minute long gunfight, one of the strangest battles in the history of warfare ended when an Abraham Main Battle Tank struck the Agent with a Sabot round from 2,000 meters away. Designed to penetrate the frontal armor of heavy tanks, the tungsten dart blew through the shipsuit, the body armor, the Agent, the body armor and the back of the shipsuit without even slowing down.

The decoy attack was defeated. Over five hundred civilians and troops had been killed or wounded by five Agents that Fort Bragg KNEW were coming. The day had just begun.

****

Getting into the House had been the same routine. Things had tightened up since the Terrorist attacks had started. Earth Defense? She was PART of the real Earth Defense and The Project didn’t kill innocent people. It sometimes had to kill, but it was rare, and it was ALWAYS for a good reason. She hated that President Hendricks had done what he had done. He was a nice man, as was his family. They were all very nice to the people who worked at the House, not just the Secret Service, but everyone. They treated the cleaning staff, the junior staff members and all the other workers with respect. The First Lady treated her Protective Detail almost like family. It was a shame that the President had decided to turn against The Project, turn against the Human Race. She wondered what would make such a otherwise good man make such a bad, evil decision. It was so sad. It was so unfortunate that the First Lady, her children and all of the Secret Service Agents with them had to die, jut because President Hendricks couldn’t see how important it was to follow the rules.

Once she had entered the building she went to the Secret Service office to receive the daily brief and her Post Assignment. She was well thought of by her supervisors, her posts were always close to the President, sometimes right outside the office door. Today her post was a little further out, but it would be simple to make her way into the inner sanctum, with a small lie. She was, after all, a known factor, her actions had proved that. There was absolutely no reason not to trust me. She was, as she had learned as part of her Protective Detail training, the ultimate nightmare, a person who was trusted, known, and absolutely determined to kill the President. After today, Secret Service agents would be trained about her, and how she had succeeded, despite the best efforts of the Service to uncover moles. Perhaps one day they would learn the truth, that she was not a traitor, but a hero. That would be a good thing. It would mean that The Enemy had been defeated and that her sacrifice, and Tommy’s would finally be understood. That would be a good day.

****

The Project Agents were able to hear the klaxons sounding off throughout the Base complex. It was the signal for the next act in the carefully planned attack. The two vans met along the road leading to the on-base housing area. It was an ideal place to cause additional mayhem. Nothing distracted people like burning houses and schools, especially if your family might be inside one of them. It was unfortunate that so many people would have to be killed, but since Defense had failed, Security would have to succeed. That meant that a distraction was needed.

The two vans stopped, effectively blocking the escape of anyone trying to drive out of the housing block. It would also slow the Base Fire Department, giving the Agents left to hold the entrance into the area more time to destroy the firefighting vehicles and the specially trained men they contained. This was a critical part of the Plan, the housing section had been carefully selected to cause maximum confusion and damage. The wind would help to carry the flames to other parts of the Base, especially as the Fire Brigades were eliminated. Much depended on the destruction of the Fire Brigades.

As the Agents exited the vans they were relieved to see the layout was exactly as the satellite photos had indicated. The klaxons had brought many of the residents out of their homes, despite the standing order to stay inside during security alerts. This too was expected. The onlookers would be the first targets. That should get the panicked phone calls to spouses started very nicely. By the frantic sounds of helicopters that echoed from all directions it seemed that the panic was already beginning. The next few minutes would push it to a level that would seriously impact the Base’s ability to react.

The Agents started to move into the streets, drawing their Energy Weapons as they did so. The slaughter was about-

BAPBAPBAPBAPBAP

The Apache that had been guarding the housing units stopped firing after about ten seconds. The Chain Gun had ripped the vans to pieces. The terrorists appeared to have been killed but the pilot and gunner continued to watch them closely. One of the bodies seemed to twitch, this earned the group another 10 seconds of fire.

"This is Angel Eight Four. Eight plus enemy down Seanight Drive. Request ground unit to verify enemy are neutralized. Will continue to orbit assigned sector."

"This is Angel Eight One. Two Vans and occupants destroyed on Sicily Drive. No apparent survivors. Request reaction team to this location. Continuing to patrol sector."

Security had been very proud of the plan to destroy the Fort’s surviving fire units. So proud that he had explained them in detail to Admiral Aden. It had been an error.

An Army Base that is home to an Air Assault Division has helicopters in motion more or less constantly. This is even more true during an alert. The Project Security men had failed to account for everything in the air. Noise, after all, is eventually just noise, even if it is a helicopter.

****

The alert came through her earpiece.

"Alert! Lockdown!! Lockdown!!"

Along with her fellow agents she went into emergency mode. The House rapidly became a fortress. Guns, normally carefully kept out of sight suddenly appeared everywhere.

"Post sixteen"

"Post sixteen." She answered.

"Report back to central. You need to armor up. You are going to be on the bunker door."

Perfect. Defense must be attacking. They are a little late but the result is ideal. I’ll be right outside the Presidential Emergency Operational Center door. It will be easy to go in and take him there, especially with the M-4. This couldn’t be better.

She entered the Secret Service offices, walking toward the Armory. As she came around the corner, she suddenly found herself facing the Service SWAT Team, behind her she could hear additional agents moving into position. She was trapped. If she managed to pull her Service weapon before she was killed, it was still hopeless. Somehow she had been uncovered. All the years, the work, the compromising of her values, it had been for nothing.

"Ruth. You know the drill. On the floor, slowly. Hands out to your sides, palms up. Come on, do it. This doesn’t have to end badly. Come on."

She heard the voice of her team leader. He was right. She had no chance. To do anything was suicidal. God condemned suicides to Hell. She couldn’t go there. She would never see Tommy again if she went there. She had let The Project down. Maybe she should go to Hell. Maybe God was punishing her for all the other sins.

"Ruth. Do it now. Game’s over. You can’t get to the President, no matter what you do. Down on the floor. Go slow."

Ruth slowly sank to her knees, then to her stomach. Maybe God would forgive her in time. Maybe her family would understand.

I’m sorry Tommy. I wanted to-

A signal reached her from orbit, relayed from Project Security’s office. Unbeknownst to her, Ruth had, many years before, been fitted with a minuscule implant. It had happened during a physical exam conducted by a Project doctor. Smaller than a grain of rice, it was an exclusive Security tool, only implanted into undercover Agents in the most sensitive of positions. Activated only the day before, it had been tracking Ruth’s every moment since activation. It had transmitted her impending capture to Security Headquarters. There was only one thing to do, and it was done with the push of a button. Located behind her left eye, the implant released all of its remaining energy in a few milliseconds. The reaction raised the heat inside her skull to two hundred and fifty degrees, causing instant brain death.

Ruth was able to finish her conversation with Tommy in person.

****

The diversions a complete failure, the five remaining Security Teams were in trouble. Even with weapons beyond the dreams of the U.S. military and with their shipsuits, the survivors now faced thousands of alerted and angry American soldiers, armed with the best weapons that non-Project designers could provide.

Their vehicles were the only ones moving toward the main defense perimeter from the gate areas. With the alarm klaxons echoing across the Base and the sounds of live firing coming from the gates and housing areas everyone else was obeying the orders coming for the loudspeakers to clear the roads and stop their vehicles. This order was punctuated by the terrifying buzzing of hunting helicopter gunships.

The Teams had no choice but to continue, darting from one location to another. They were too far from the target to walk, if they tried to make it on foot the targets could be removed before they arrived. The Teams that had been in civilian vehicles exchanged their cars for military Humvees and trucks and hoped for the best.

One team had stolen a four door pick-up from some MP’s after being pulled over. The MP’s were now burned spots on the pavement, and the MP Truck seemed to be a perfect cover vehicle. It had been good enough to make it to within a mile of the outer perimeter when a Warthog pilot decided that any MP stupid enough to be driving TOWARD the perimeter at full speed had to be removed from the gene pool. Activating his GAU-30, he treated the truck to a two second burst. In that time the Cannon fired 130 shells, each the diameter of a beer can, at the truck, Seventy five of the rounds hit the Ford F-350, twenty-eight of them were high explosive, the remaining shells were depleted uranium antitank rounds. The uranium rounds were not just super dense, they also had the charming property of catching fire when they stuck a hard surface. Before the A-10 rolled off the truck and reported the attack to Pope AFB the only intact item inside the Ford was one of the shipsuits.

"Low CAP Six to Base. One military style truck destroyed. Approximately one mile southeast of perimeter."

"Roger Low CAP Six. One truck. Continue patrol."

"Copy. Continue patrol."

The remaining twenty Project Agents continued to argue about a way to get inside the Stockade and to where the First Family waited.

"There has to be some way!"

"Why? Defense had screwed the pooch here. According to the briefing there about Eight thousand soldier boys waiting for us."

"So what. We are better trained AND armed then they are."

"We are outnumbered forty to one."

"We must find a way."

"Perhaps we can do it this way"

The troops on the outer perimeter were from the famed Third Infantry Division, Third Brigade. Most were combat veterans, with experience in the many Middle-East wars and combat interventions that had peppered the last three decades. They had been briefed on the known capabilities of their enemies, their wondrous weapons and the protective armor they wore. They knew that the enemy would test their skills, that they had already killed hundreds on the base and that they were responsible for thousands of other recent deaths. The Brigade also knew that they were terrorists, not soldiers. They were to be regarded warily, acknowledged as dangerous, but not to be respected. Soldiers fought for their people, to protect their homes and the homes of their neighbors. Terrorists fought for none of these. No matter what they believed they were fighting for, they were fighting against civilization, against order, against everything that soldiers believed. They had come to die. The Brigade would give them their wish.

That the enemy approaching believed that they protected the soldier’s homes and the homes of their neighbors, that they alone could protect human civilization never occurred to the men of the Third Brigade. It would not have changed things, had they know, but it was true. It made what was about to happen even more tragic.

Eighteen men, all armed with weapons straight out of a Science Fiction Movie, moved against thousands of troops right off the front page of the newspaper. If it had been a movie, it would have been an epic. It wasn’t a movie.

"Small group of unknowns approaching Sector Eleven, south eastern corner. Weapons and uniforms consistent with enemy as briefed. Request support.

"All troops Sector Eleven, enemy identified. Fire as weapons allow."

The buildings had allowed the Agents to close to within two hundred meters of the perimeter. They were fifty meters out of the effective range of their Energy weapons. They began to run.

A hailstorm of fire reached out toward the Agents, One by one they fell, only five reached weapon’s range. In the following fifty seconds the Third took more casualties than it had in all the years since Viet Nam.

Suddenly, sandbagged positions disappeared in a puff of smoke, Bradley Fighting Vehicles burst into flame, followed by an Abrams heavy tank. Hundreds of men died as the surviving agents reached the outer perimeter. As they continued, the sides of the perimeter pinched down on them. Tanks, trucks & buildings burned as soldiers, and more slowly, Agents fell. Suddenly it was over. The last Agent fell, victim of heavy machine gun rounds that ruptured his femoral artery as they crushed his leg.

Three hours after the attack had begun, the defensive alert was cancelled. The Base went back into the watchful mode. They had survived the attack. The Project had lost fifty-six killed, two captured.

The Project had sent SIXTY Agents to North Carolina.

44.

The two surviving Security Agents had listened as their fellows had conducted their Butch & Sundance in Bolivia attack. They had known that they would die, but they had gone readily into the fire. They had sacrificed themselves, although the throat mikes seemed to indicate that one or two might have survived, to allow the last pair to succeed. For that reason, if no other, they had to make it to the target. They would be late, but they would be successful. The Project would be protected. Since the brute force approach had failed, they would try stealth.

They had abandoned their shipsuits, and their main weapons, in a dumpster. They were wearing military uniforms, BDU’s as the soldiers called them. They had the right rank insignia on them, with the proper unit patches. The names were not correct, but in the mad rush that existed to get assistance to the Third, that was detail that had not been noticed. No one had asked for their ID cards as they entered the area where their brother Agents had died. Even four hours after the battle fires still burned and many of those killed were still where they had fallen. Two Agents, their shipsuits torn to shreds by some weapon, were laying in taped off areas with a couple of individuals poking at them like they were some kind of display. It enraged the Agents, but there was nothing that they could do. They still had a mission to complete and complete they would.

"Did you see that?" One sub-vocalized.

"Of course I did. If we survive the main attack we can come back and see what we can do."

"Right. Still, it doesn’t seem right."

"It isn’t. Nothing we can do about it right now. Concentrate."

The first real checkpoint they encountered was more relaxed then they expected.

"Where you headed?"

"We just got on-base. What a fucking mess out there. We need to report in before our team leader declares us AWOL, or worse, dead. I would hate to have to prove I’m actually alive to that guy."

The guard laughed. "Heard that." The guard waved them through.

The Agents were amazed that they had gotten through so easily.

Once they were out of earshot the report went in.

"Post Thirty-two. Unknowns heading in. Passed them as ordered. BDU sleeves are rolled up. No sign of that fancy armor. Stupid bastards don’t even know the right slang. Anyone care to tell me what the Hell is going on here?"

"Report received. Just shut up and do your job."

"Understood." Those guys want to see a real asshole of a commander, they should meet my Platoon Sergeant. Team Leader? Idiots!

The agents proceeded, using the map that they had committed to memory as a guide. As expected, they came to an open quad. They knew that they would encounter another checkpoint in a few minutes. Hopefully they would have the same success that they had experienced with the last one. If not, they did have their disrupters; that would be enough to get through the security checks they had seen so far.

"Next checkpoint is coming up, just stay calm."

"Understood."

Neither man saw or heard the flash bangs being thrown. They had never trained with the weapon and had no idea what they were. Totally disorientated, they were easy picking for the Ranger snatch team that had been waiting for them.

"Nice job assholes. Great Plan, it might have worked if we’d killed all of your playmates. The two who survived REALLY like morphine, they are talkative as hell. You fuckers are dumber than door knobs, BLUFF your way into the Stockade?" The slender, but incredibly strong, American quickly bound the Agent’s hands with Plastic handcuffs tight enough to almost, but not quite, cut off circulation. A few feet away another Ranger, this time in the Extra-large economy size, had already finished trussing up the other Agent and had discovered his disrupter. The Ranger handled the device as if it was a rattlesnake that was poised to bite. In a way, it was.

"Be grateful that your boys spilled their guts. That’s why you’re still breathing."

"What? They would never crack under torture."

"Who said anything about torture shithead? A little painkiller, which, by the way, they really needed, and a couple of gentle question from the right person (A VERY pretty female Captain from G-2 who just happened to be an expert interrogator, although the Ranger didn’t know that.) and they spilled their guts. You guys need to go through S.E.R.E. before you try to play with the big boys."

The two Agents were still stunned from the flash-bangs. They were literally seeing stars. That may explain what came next.

"Did we come close to the First Family?"

"Oh Yea. If you had driven around the base, gone to Charlotte, hired a plane there, and flown about five hundred miles in the right direction you would have been right on top of them. If they were still here you think you would have gotten past the first guard post?" The Ranger shook his head.

"Jesus. You really are a shithead."

Even in their stunned state the Agents were able to put it together. They had been given up. Somebody had told the Base that they were coming and the First Family was gone before they had ever arrived. They had gone through everything for no reason at all. The only Project Security Assault Team in the Western Hemisphere had allowed itself to be annihilated for no reason at all.

The Project had a traitor INSIDE Security. No one knew. They had to get the word out.

"By the way shithead, I hope you like it hot. Gitmo is a real bitch this time of year. You’ll love those god dammed Marines. Good luck, you’re gonna need it."

****

Budman was in the Safe House with Aden.

"Well your information has proved out. We will keep our side of the deal. Time for you to finish your side."

"Of course General. Just get me to a proper telephone."

Five minutes later the Bases in the United States, Siberia, and Australia were no longer under Project control. Delta, Vympel, and SAS troops entered the bases and took control of the space planes. Project Security tried to fight, but between the Elite troops, and the fire from Defense Guards loyal to Aden, it was an uneven struggle. Still, Delta lost eight men, the Russians lost twelve, and the Australians lost fourteen.

"What about the Base in Brazil?"

"You know about that? Well done General." The American’s Intel impressed Aden, most Project INSIDERS didn’t know about the Brazil operation.

"All about it. Make your call."

"That is not my Base. It belongs to Resources. It supplies my Fleet, but it is not mine to command."

"Does it have any Space fighters"

"Yes."

"How Many?"

"Four Ferrets. Two A-26’s. They are used to escort the supply flights."

"Can you contact them? Neutralize that threat?"

"No. The Section commander is, shall we say, a fanatic. To be considered a fanatic within The Project is a considerable achievement.’

"I bet. Can you tell us where the Base is?"

"Of course. I would ask that you refrain from attacking it."

"Why?"

It IS the only source of Supply for the Fleet. I thought it was agreed that no harm would come to my forces if it was avoidable?"

"I’ll talk to the President."

"Thank you. I need to work on my speech. If you will excuse me?"

"Go ahead."

A fanatic? Somebody that the rest of THESE bastards thought was a fanatic? Just Goddamned wonderful. The President was going to love this.

45.

"Again, Fort Bragg North Carolina has been attacked in what the White House has described as the most serious terrorist attack on American Soil since Nine-Eleven. Behind me you can see the destruction caused at this entrance to the Base. Base Officials are tight lipped at this time regarding the weapons used by the Terrorists and there actual numbers. MSNBC has learned through anonymous sources that the number of Terrorists involved exceeded One Hundred and Fifty and that numerous Car and Truck bombs, as well as suicide bombers were involved in the attack. The White House is about to hold a Press Conference regarding this attack. For this angle on the story we now go to our Senior White House correspondent

"The President of the United States."

Hendriks walked to the dais. As he did so he noticed that virtually every reporter present had the same question written on their face. "It isn’t as bad as it appears, is it?" had replaced the semi-detached or determined look that normally dominated the Press Corps.

""Good afternoon." Hendriks was in "Presidential" mode, a mix of trusted Uncle and determined teacher. "Today’s ruthless attack on Fort Bragg Army Base has been completely defeated. ALL of the terrorists have been killed or captured. Contrary to some early reports, no desperate manhunt is currently underway in the North Carolina countryside.

"It has been confirmed that the attack was meant to assassinate the First Lady and my daughters. This confirmation comes from interrogations of captured terrorists. These terrorists are part of the same group of murderers responsible for the Airliner attacks AND the Terrorist bombings that resulted in the death of Indian Prime Minister Kamal Bainiwal." Hendriks had to pause while the excited murmur ran through the assembly.

"These terrorist attacks, which violated every law and tradition governing human behavior are nothing less than an attack on ALL of Mankind, Nearly TEN THOUSAND HUMAN BEINGS have been killed in recent days by this Terrorist Group. Ten Thousand people. The group responsible for these attacks is a traitor to the entire Planet. They are a clear and present danger to ALL of mankind.

"This group had recently come to the attention of The United States government, as well as other governments around the world. As I speak here, Press Briefing are being held around the world. In an unprecedented cooperative effort, police and military agencies on five continents are seeking members of this terrorist network. This Terrorist conspiracy is responsible for the major attacks I have mentions as well as the Assassination of the Governor General of Canada, The Governor’s wife, and the wife of Canadian Prime Minister Ellery. Russia’s President has authorized me to release the news that the same group made an unsuccessful attempt to assassinate President Samoylov and his family."

The alarmed murmuring forced the President to wait until he had the room’s attention.

"We have penetrated the veil of secrecy surrounding the leadership of this Terrorist Organization that referrers to itself as "The Project". The recent violent acts against ALL of Mankind that resulted in the deaths of over Seven thousand airline passengers from all over the world, the deaths of over one thousand Indian citizens and India’s Prime Minister, as well as the assassinations in Canada are the acts of a single, well organized secret Terrorist organization with tentacles extending into many countries. These same terrorists are responsible for the murder of Madison James, known to so many of us as little Maddie. It is our belief that "The Committee" represents the leadership of the "Project" terrorist organization. This self-styled leadership group believes itself to be above the law, in fact they believe that they are a law unto themselves.

"Recent defections from the ranks of "The Project" have given us the names and photos of the leadership of this terrorist organization. They are wanted on suspicion of murder in the United States, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Great Britain and Russia. They are wanted for serious crimes against the People in the People’s Republic of China, and for Crimes against Humanity in France. A number of other countries are currently drafting charges against these men and the terrorist organization." Hendriks paused while press packets were distributed

"These are the names and faces of "The Committee". We ask that the media assist the World’s Governments to publicize the names and faces of these criminals. They are The Enemy of all Mankind. The Human Race is not safe as long as they can spread their violence."

A multi-media presentation was made available to the video and internet based media as Hendriks provided the voice-over.

"This Robert Davidson. Age sixty-four. He is originally from Great Britain. We have reason to believe that he is currently in the United States. He is reputedly the leader of this vile group of murderers. The death of Madison James, as well as the attempted murder of the James family, was directly ordered by this man. He is also believed to be responsible for ordering the attack on Fort Bragg, as well as most other Project terrorist activities.

"This is Jean Denis. Age fifty-nine. He is a French citizen. His current location is believed to be Switzerland"

By the time the photos had been displayed ALL of the Permanent Members, with the notable exception of Security, had been displayed.

"This final photo is being shown for reasons of full disclosure only. This is a photo of Vincent Aden. Aden was killed earlier today while resisting arrest outside of Tonopah Nevada." As Hendriks spoke, a red caption of "Deceased" appeared diagonally across the Admiral’s face.

"As President of the United States I appeal to all of my fellow citizens to be on the lookout for these men. As a fellow human being, I appeal to everyone who sees, hears or reads, this message for help in finding these traitors to Mankind. A reward of One Hundred Million Dollars will be paid to any person who provides information leading to the capture of any of these wanted terrorists. Information can be provided to your local police, the FBI, Secret Service, U.S. Marshall’s, or any Homeland Security Office. In other countries, calls should be directed to your national police officials, or to this World-wide Hot Line."

The number 1-800-555-9911 appeared in the multi-media presentation.

"In Closing, let me assure the American people that I will leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of these Murderers. They will be found. They WILL pay for their crimes. The civilized people of the Planet will be made safe from this threat to all of Mankind.

"God Bless you and God Bless the United States of America.

"Thank you."

The room exploded in shouts of "Mr. President!". Hendriks did not pause as he left the stage.

His Press Secretary stepped to the microphone. "Thank you for your attention and assistance. Further information directly related to the Fort Bragg attack will be provided in one hour at a Pentagon Briefing. This briefing is concluded."

46.

Even as Hendricks, Samoylov, and the rest of the Political Members were finishing their addresses a different, in many ways more important broadcast was beginning. It would help to decide the fate of many of the Earth’s best and brightest.

Aden had worked on his appeal for days BEFORE he had defected. It was the only way to save his command. The space force was totally dependant on Earth for supplies, Even the Lunar Defense bases had less than three months of supplies and no prospect for getting any more, except from Earth. If Defense requests to allow construction of major supply facilities on the Moon had been approved, this would not be the case, but the Permanent Committee Members had always quashed the requests. Aden had long suspected that it was out of desire to control Defense. Ironically, it would now prevent The Committee from keeping control of space itself.

Aden had no illusions about the ability of the World’s Great Powers to overwhelm the Brazilian Base, especially now, with the other Bases under Earth military control. The Ferrets and Skunks would be difficult foes but no six aircraft ever created could hold off the might of the world. If pressed the Great Powers could simply overwhelm the defenses with ballistic weapons. It would be horrible, but, in the end, the Brazilian Base would be smashed. Once it was gone, his Fleet would starve to death. He could not allow that to happen.

Aden knew that his ability to control the Fleet would determine the fate of so many. He began the transmission.

"THIS ADMIRAL ADEN. THE REPORTS OF MY DEATH ARE GREATLY EXAGGERATED. I SPEAK TO YOU ALL TODAY AS YOUR FRIEND AND COMRADE, NOT AS YOUR COMMANDER.

THE COMMITTEE HAS BETRAYED OUR CAUSE. WE HAVE ALL PROMISED TO DEFEND MANKIND AND TO PROTECT HUMANITY. THE COMMITTEE HAS USED US TO MURDER THOUSANDS OF INNOCENTS. THE COMMITTEE TRIED TO USE US TO MURDER THOUSANDS MORE. THIS IS NOT WHAT WE PROMISED TO DO.

THE COMMITTEE HAS USED US IN AN ATTEMPT TO VIOLATE THE PROJECT’S CHARTER. THEY HAVE DONE THIS BECAUSE THEY ARE MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THEIR RICHES THAN DEFENDING THE PLANET. THEY HAVE PUT THEMSELVES AND THEIR DESIRES FOR WEALTH AHEAD OF THE GOOD OF HUMANITY. THEY USED PLANETARY COMBINED DEFENSE COMMAND TO ADVANCE THEIR OWN SELFISH DESIRES. THEY USED US TO KILL THE VERY PEOPLE WE HAVE PROMISED TO DEFEND. I AM TRANSMITTING PROOF OF THEIR SAVAGERY TO YOU WITH THIS MESSAGE.

I APPEAL TO YOU TO WATCH THE VIDEOS, READ THE STORIES ABOUT WHAT THE COMMITTEE MANIPULATED DEFENSE TO DO TO PROTECT THEIR POSITIONS. DECIDE FOR YOURSELVES IF THEY VIOLATED THE PROMISES. DECIDE FOR YOURSELF IF WE WERE BETRAYED.

IT WAS WHEN THE PERMANENT COMMITTEE MEMBERS ORDERED ME TO USE YOU TO KILL TENS OF THOUSANDS OF ADDITIONAL PEOPLE THAT I DECIDED THAT ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. I WOULD NOT DISHONOR YOUR CURRENT SERVICE OR THE SACRIFICES OF SO MANY OF OUR PREDECESSORS SIMPLY TO ALLOW THE COMMITTEE TO INCREASE THEIR RICHES. WE CAN NOT ALLOW THE ROLL OF HONOR TO BECOME NOTHING MORE THAN A FOOTNOTE. WE CAN NOT ALLOW THE PROMISES TO BE TOSSED ASIDE.

THE PERMANENT COMMITTEE MEMBERS PLAN TO ABOLISH THE PROMISES. THEY PLAN TO MAKE US SWEAR TO FOLLOW THEIR EVERY WISH. THEY PLAN TO MAKE US A TOOL TO PROTECT THEIR POWER. THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT DEFENDING EARTH. THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT IDENTIFYING THE ENEMY. THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOU. THEY CARE ONLY FOR THEMSELVES.

I DO NOT CLAIM MY COMPLETE INNOCENCE IN THESE ACTIONS. I ALLOWED MYSELF TO BE USED. IN DOING SO, I ALLOWED YOU ALL TO BE USED. I WILL RESIGN MY COMMAND AT THE END OF THE CURRENT CRISIS AND ALLOW THE LEADERS OF THE PROJECT NATIONS TO DETERMINE WHO SHOULD LEAD YOU INTO THE FUTURE. FOR NOW I ASK THAT YOU REMAIN LOYAL TO THE PROMISES.

REMAIN ON WATCH. KEEP THE PROMISES. DEFEND THE EARTH. DO NOT ALLOW GREEDY MEN TO BRING US DOWN.

WE CAN DO WHAT WE HAVE PROMISED. WE WILL DO WHAT WE HAVE PROMISED.

COMRADES, DO NOT LET MANKIND DOWN. WE STILL STAND ON THE WALL. WE ARE THE WALL.

WE WILL DEFEND EARTH TO OUR LAST BREATH.

ADMIRAL V ADEN

As the transmission flashed out through the Defense Command communication network, all hell broke loose.

****

"What do you think Lisa?"

"I think we have a chance to save the space fleet. It would make our exploration efforts much easier." As Vice President, Lisa was the Administration’s chief contact with NASA. It was a role that the former fighter pilot took seriously.

"True. I meant what do you think about the speech. Do you think the People will accept the explanation? I don’t want this to become a debate on aliens."

"I think that the terrorist angle will fly. Even if Davidson or some other member of the Committee tries to counter our message, especially if they try to tell the truth, they will simply be labelled as an insane terrorist leader by the media. You told the truth, the Committee ARE terrorists. The rest we will have to reveal as time goes on."

"That is my take on things. I am going to tell Congress that we need to use the military to help hunt the Committee members down. I have that authority. Do you see a lot of opposition?"

"After Fort Bragg? The public wants blood. Congress does too. It will be received without much comment."

"I have a concern about the Leadership on the Hill. The Project put them under some kind of hypnosis."

"Unless they hypnotized their common sense and political savvy away no one will get in the way of this hunt. We’ve hung Ten Thousand bodies on Davidson and his pals. No politician who wants to be in office after their next election will do anything but applaud whatever you propose. Until the shock and anger wears off, we’re golden. After that there may be some questions." Lisa concluded.

"Yea, we’ll drive off that bridge when we come to it. After we finish the Committee off, the rest will fall the way it falls.

"I just hope that Aden’s people don’t do something stupid."

47.

That Davidson was shocked by the sudden appearance of his photo on virtually every television on Earth is a given. That he was more upset at the characterization of The Project as a terrorist group then his identification as a terrorist is somewhat surprising. That he simply could not understand how things had spun so badly out of control is perhaps the most shocking thing of all.

He knew he had always done the right thing, for the purest of motives. He had spent his entire life defending the Earth against monsters. Now, at the culmination of his career, of his life of service to others, he had been stabbed in the back by the very people he had spent his life protecting. The whole thing was disgusting.

The politicians had said over and over that The Project had murdered thousands of people. The Project had not murdered anyone. That a few individuals had to be sacrificed to save the entire human race was completely sensible. What were seven thousand lives against six BILLION? Davidson knew the answer, they were NOTHING, nothing at all. The Project existed solely to protect the Planet. He existed solely to protect the Planet. Now, he was a wanted man.

When Davidson had attempted to contact the other Permanent members, half of them were gone. He supposed they had fled into hiding, although he had no intention to hide. The ones he had spoken too were preparing to flee, No one would ever stop to discuss how things could be brought back into their favor. They were willing to abandon The Project to the political whiners, just to save their skin. Cowards! He was a hero. Hero’s didn’t hide. He would remain at home, at his ranch.

If the hick who called himself the Sheriff in this part of Texas showed his face, he’d have his bodyguard burn it off. It was HIS land, all of it, including the oil, and the water, and everything else. On it he was Lord and Master. He had raised himself from a middle class British existence to enormous wealth through his own hard work. His investments had all been in Project owned companies, his shares were no different than the stock options that CEO’s everywhere received, except he had spent his life protecting Humanity. Compare that to starting up some search engine. He had EARNED his keep.

He was one of the most influential men, maybe THE most influential man on Earth. That these political pretenders like Samoylov or Hendriks would DARE to think of themselves as his equal nauseated him. Once this tempest in a teapot had blow over, he would show them what power really was. No more simple Sanctions. He’d transport Samoylov and his whole family to the Moon. Once he got them there, he’d have each person put into an airlock and pushed out onto the Lunar surface without a pressure suit. He'd make sure the ones waiting in line got a good view of the drama. When Samoylov was the only one left he’d transport HIM home so the politicians could learn from one of their own what happened to traitors. That would be a good day.

****

It had been a long flight from Quantico, the Agents for the FBI Hostage Rescue Team (HRT) were still working out the kinks in the local school gymnasium. They all knew why they were there. The most wanted man on Earth had decided to remain at his ranch northwest of Dallas, rather than disappear. Perhaps he had expected his people to remain loyal, if so, he was sadly mistaken. One Hundred Million tax-free dollars, and full immunity from prosecution, was a pretty good price to turn in the most despised man on Earth. The only real surprise was that it had taken nearly a full day for one of his bodyguards to rat Davidson out.

The snitch had done a good job of earning his instant life of leisure, assuming Davidson was still at the Ranch. He’d given the HRT commander enough information to plan a detailed assault of the Ranch house. He knew how many bodyguards were left at the Ranch, where they stayed while off duty and how many servants were at the Ranch at all times of the day & night. If the informer had been accurate, it might even be possible to capture everyone without a shot being fired. The Team commander wasn’t counting on that, but he hoped it would be the case. He would know in about three hours.

Hostage Rescue was a slight misnomer, although the Team loved to play that role. Most of the time they were actually the best non military SPECOPS Assault Team on Earth. Most of the HRT members WERE ex-Special Operations, while the rest were the cream of American law enforcement. While the Team had gotten it’s share of bad press during the Ruby Ridge and Waco debacles, over all it was better than most Military teams from around the world, and a close equal to Delta, with whom it regularly trained, as long as it stayed inside its primary missions.

Tonight’s mission was to get Davidson. For domestic political reasons it was important for civilian police, not the military, to complete the Davidson capture. That did not mean that the military was not part of the operation, it was. The helicopters that would be used in the assault were military and Texas National Guard units were providing much of the manpower for the perimeter around the Ranch. The actually arrests however would be accomplished by the FBI, backed up by the Texas Department of Public Safety.

The HRT commander, after consultations with the Texas Ranger assigned as Scene Commander had decided to make his entry in the early morning hours. That would leave on a single servant at risk and the bodyguards in the last part of their shift.

All that really concerned the HRT commander were his Rules of Engagement. The Director had handed them to him personally, and the President himself had signed them, making them as official as they came, but they were still unusual. That the Texas DPS troopers had been given the same orders, based on a State of Emergency declared by the Governor of Texas just made things even stranger. He had heard of ROE like his before, but he had never expected to actually be given them. He guessed that they were a result of the Fort Bragg attack, but still

AFTER ONE WARNING, ANY RESISTANCE SHOULD BE MET WITH DEADLY FORCE. THIS NECESSARY TO PROTECT YOUR LIFE AND THE LIVES OF THE PUBLIC. FLEEING SUSPECTS MUST BE STOPPED. DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED TO PREVENT ESCAPE.

Given the State of Emergency that Congress had voted into effect, the ROE was legal. The commander also knew that they were a license to kill. It was almost like they didn’t WANT Davidson to be brought in alive.

That couldn’t be right, could it?

****

Davidson was sound asleep when it started. The hooting of the Security Alarm woke him. To his surprise there was not a Security Agent outside of his door waiting to explain the disturbance. Walking toward the main stair well he still found no one. What had been curiosity began to change into anger as he continued to find no one. By the time he reached the base of the main stairway, all he had left was anger. It exploded as soon as he saw one of the bodyguards.

"What the Hell is going on here! Where is Everybody?"

The Security Agent turned to Davidson and said "Dave and me ARE everyone. Everyone else has beat feet."

"What? Where? How?"

"The rest of the Security Team is GONE. Full Stop. I have no idea where, but since all the cars are gone I have a pretty good idea of how."

"Impossible. They are Project."

"Right. Mr. Davidson, in case you didn’t watch TV for the last couple of days, being Project is a great way to get lynched. Dave is outside looking for some transportation. You better get dressed. It is time to haul ass out of here."

"I will not-"

"THIS IS THE FBI! EVERYONE IN THE HOUSE! THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING. COME OUT OF THE HOUSE WITH YOUR HANDS EMPTY AND RAISED OVER YOUR HEADS."

"Shit! That’s it Boss. We are well and truly screwed now."

"Don’t be ridiculous. They are common policemen. They are nothing to worry about."

"If you say so. Me. I’m going to surrender before they get the chance to kill me."

"You will do no such thing. You are Project Security. We do not surrender to anyone."

"Are you nuts? These guys are serious. I-"

The Agent fell over, dead. Davidson put the disrupter back into his pocket.

"We will have to review the screening process. Some unacceptable people are getting into Security positions." Davidson said to himself.

"IN THE HOUSE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO COME OUT PEACEFULLY. ONE MINUTE."

"This is Jenkins. All Teams be ready for entry order. Gas Teams One and Two be ready to fire on my command. Target set Alpha."

Sniper Team Two saw it first. "Movement. Front hallway."

Seconds later the area in front of the house was suddenly burned to ash. One hundred meters from the entry to the house Gas Team One suddenly disappeared.

"Go away you fools. I am the Leader of The Project. You have no authority here. Leave before you force me to kill you all!"

Shit! The President wasn’t kidding. This fucker is crazy.

"Sniper Teams. Anyone have a shot?"

"Team One, no shot."

"Team Two, no shot."

"Understood." Dammit!

"HRT One, This is Trooper Three."

"Trooper Three go ahead"

"HRT One, I have a shot. Do I have a green light?"

"You bet Trooper Three."

It was a two rifle job. The first bullet was needed to break the heavy double paned window glass. This bullet would be deflected when it entered the window and would almost certainly miss the target. The other bullet would stay true and, hopefully, strike the aiming point. Both Texas Troopers prepared for their shot. Equipped with the standard police issue Remington chambered in .308, they did not have the esoteric weapons employed by Delta or HRT. They did have a clean shot. Both men could see Davidson, his hand was wrapped around something that looked like a flashlight with a pistol grip. It wasn’t a flashlight, as the deaths of the FBI Agents had proved. It was some bizarre weapon and the Troopers were not about to let him fire it again

"Okay, on three." Ordered the sniper team observer. "One, two, THREE!"

CRACKCK.

The shots came so close together that they sounds like one discharge. The two snipers never admitted to anyone who had made the killing shot. Both knew, but both refused to take credit. It had been a team effort, and it would remain one.

Davidson never heard the bullets. Fired from 300 meters away, the bullet had killed him before the sound of its firing reached halfway to the house. By the time the sound arrived the Senior Permanent Member of The Committee was already sprawled on the ground, his blood beginning to ruin the Teak flooring.

Dave surrendered without incident. He landed in Cuba six hours after his surrender, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force. He arrived early enough to enjoy his first breakfast under the watchful eyes of the United States Marine Corps.

Dave found both the decor and the company lacking.

48.

The Fleet was in disarray. What had been a series of more or less respectful disagreements between friends was now reaching unarmed combat. Fighting on orbital platforms had begun before all the fires had been extinguished at Fort Bragg. Initially, the fights had been between Security personnel and Fleet, with Security being blamed for the current disasters and the deaths on Earth. It quickly expanded into two factions, the "Promise Lovers" and the "Killers". The Killers were mostly Security with some of the more radical Fleet types filling out their ranks and the Promise Keepers, mainly Fleet, were strict constructionists, believing that the Promises were perfect as they were written. Interestingly, most of the other branches (Planning, Research, etc.) lined up behind the Fleet Promise Keepers. The trouble began, as might be expected, in the mess rooms on the moon.

The Lunar Bases were the largest of all Project positions, larger even (overall) than the Brazilian replenishment base. These Bases had all the things necessary to allow for serious trouble to begin, large (relatively) number of people, space to move around, and, of greatest importance, a decent gravitational field. The initial fights were mostly of the Junior High School push & shove variety, quickly broken up by cooler heads. This was not to last. As the hours passed, the senior members of departments began to let their feelings be know, this emboldened the strongest believers on both sides. The first serious fight was in habitat dome of Mass Driver Four. It should have been a quick and easy victory for the off-duty Security Officer, he was trained in unarmed combat. It didn’t turn out that way.

Everyone in the Project had come from somewhere, most of the time they had come from a somewhere that where they had been alone. Only children whose parents had died in their early adulthood were common, as were orphans who had been raised in different levels of difficulty. All were intelligent & dedicated, more than a few had pasts that were best not discussed. In some ways The Project had become a hi-tech version of the Foreign Legion, people entered The Project and disappeared, leaving local authorities grasping at air. Such was the case in the Dome. The Security Officer, who should have known better, began the fight. He could have hardly have chosen a worse opponent. Had he been an Earth trained and experienced police officer, the Security Officer would have know what the tattoos on the Fleet Engineer represented. Unfortunately, the Security man was neither Earth law enforcement trained, or from the American Southwest. He had no idea what the tattoo of a tear near the eye signified on a Latino male from East Los Angeles, even one with a Master’s in Electrical Engineering. This was to his misfortune.

"Move it, you Fleet bastard."

"What did you call me?"

"You heard me you Promise Lover. Move your sorry ass before I move it for you."

"Back off Holmes for something bad happens to you."

"Screw you. You Fleet types make me want to puke. Next thing we know, you cowards will be pimping for The Enemy."

The engineer responded by throwing the Security Officer the width of the dome. Even in the light gravity, it was an impressive toss. What was much more impressive was what the Engineer did with the table leg when he reached where the Security Officer had landed. It indicated an advanced knowledge of human anatomy and a remarkable talent for causing lasting injury. Had it not been for the intervention of the ON-DUTY Security Detail, it is likely that this encounter would have accounted for the first fatality in Project’s death throes. Instead the encounter served as the trigger for more than one.

It took almost no time for the incident to hit the rumor mill. After a few retelling it changed, by the time it was on the way out to the deployed Fleet units, the story had a half dozen armed Security AGENTS (not the regular Officers) attacking a female Fleet engineer for no reason at all, except her proclamation that the Promises should control everyone’s reaction to Aden’s broadcast, leaving her either dead, or in a coma, or paralyzed for life, depending on the version. From there, things took on a life of their own.

****

Petrovna had spent nearly twenty years in the Fleet, She had seen what had been the worst day Defense Command had ever experienced, when the Columbia had broken up, killing all hands, despite pleas from the Fleet to rescue the crew. This was far worse. She had been forced to put two of her Splinter pilots under restriction to quarters, after they had both threatened to kill the other, in her PRESENCE. The mood on the Challenger was such that Natilia was happy that the Cruiser was still fully functional. Natilia was firmly in the "Promise Lover" camp. She wanted to defend the Earth, and more importantly, the people of the Earth, not be part of some sick power struggle. As ship Commander, she didn’t seem to have that as an option. The sick power struggle had reached her ship.

"Commander to Communications."

A few seconds later Petrovna was in the compartment.

"A high level coded communication Commander. You Eyes only."

"Very well. Here’s my reader. Download it."

"Yes Ma’am."

Petrovna went to her cabin to read the message. God alone knew what horror story it contained.

************** COMMANDER’S EYES ONLY**************

TO: ALL OUTER BELT UNITS

CRUISER ONIZUKA IS DIRECTED TO DETACH FOUR SPLINTER FIGHTERS TO COMMANDER, OUTER BELT DEFENSES, FIGHTERS ARE TO PROCEED INDEPENDENTLY TO DEFENSE POST TWO

CRUISERS RESNIK, CHALLENGER, ONIZUKA ARE DIRECTED TO PROCEED TO DEEP EARTH ORBIT BEST POSSIBLE SPEED.

MISSION WILL BE CLOSE PROTECTION OF EARTH.

LUNAR DEFENSE BASES ARE OFF-LINE. UNKNOWN WHEN/IF LUNAR DEFENSES WILL RETURN TO OPERATION.

IMPETRATIVE THAT ANY POSSIBLY MUTINY ON OUTER BELT DEFENSES BE PREVENTED.

COMMANDERS ARE AUTHORIZED TO USE DEADLY FORCE TO PREVENT MUTINY.

BE ADVISED THAT LUNAR RAIL GUN FOUR IS TO BE TREATED AS HOSTILE TO DEFENSE COMMAND VESSELS.

ALL SHIPS ARE TO REMAIN OUTSIDE OF LUNAR GUN FOUR ENGAGEMENT ENVELOPE.

RAIL GUN UNIT HAS ENGAGED DEFENSE COMMAND SHUTTLE VESSEL WITH RESULTANT LOSS OF LIFE.

CRUISER SPUTNIK IS TO BE CONSIDERED HOSTILE. ALL DEFENSIVE MEASURES ARE AUTHORIZED IF THIS VESSEL IS ENCOUNTERED. ROE: DO NOT FIRE UNLESS FIRED UPON.

CRUISER MERCURY IS OVERDUE. NO COMMUNICATION HAS BEEN RECEIVED IN 36 HOURS. IMMEDIATELY REPORT ANY SIGHTINGS TO COMMAND HQ.

REMEMBER THE PROMISES.

EARTH IS TO BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS.

DEFENSE OF ALL OTHER SECTORS SECONDARY TO EARTH DEFENSE.

ADMIRAL V ADEN SENDS CODE IDENTIFIER ***SPARTA***

REAR ADMIRAL G XANG VERIFIES MESSAGE

VERIFICATION CODE WORD ***TRANQUILITY***

Natilia read the message twice. Mutiny? Sputnik to be considered hostile? She had SERVED on the Sputnik! Lunar Defense bases FIRING on Fleet shuttles? What in God’s name was happening out there?

The verification was the worst part. It indicated that someone was sending out false messages that were supposed to be from Defense Command. That could only mean that someone ON the HQ platform was trying to incite a mutiny.

God help Mankind!

48.

"Okay, where do we stand?" Hendriks asked. Two weeks after the attack on Fort Bragg, things had finally calmed down, at least temporarily, to a point where it was possible to take stock of the situation.

Ortega consulted his notes before speaking. "We have had some success in rounding up of Committee members. Some of them have provided a good deal of information to authorities where they were rounded up. Denis, the Finance chief has been a goldmine, he has exposed the inner workings of the money side of The Project in great detail. Why he kept so much information on his personal computers is beyond me. The number of shell companies and Project controlled major companies is stunning. Treasury Secretary Lowe is worried that the announcement that so many of these companies had relationships with what we have so successfully painted as a terrorist organization could bring on an economic crisis. The Chinese are simply putting favored businessmen into Project company slots as quickly as they are discovered."

"Won’t that result in the exposure that Lowe is so worried about?"

"It would Mr. President, but the Premier has found an innovative solution."

"The way you said that doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing." Noted Hendriks.

"Well, the Chinese have announced that they have uncovered a major corruption conspiracy. In keeping with Chinese law, the guilty are receiving immediate trial and sentencing. The sentence is uniform, and the appeal process is somewhat curtailed."

"How many?"

"At least one hundred. As agreed, the Chinese are allowing our people to sit in on the interrogation of any Committee member they catch. The Planning chief is, according to our people, being treated very roughly, even by Chinese Intelligence standards. He has, however, been most cooperative. We have found the North American manufacturing plants for the Energy Weapon, and more importantly, we successfully captured the factory where the energy source for all of the Project portable systems were constructed and charged."

"Have we figured out what those things are yet. The batteries I mean."

"No Sir. We will have a better idea soon. The factory is a bonanza of information."

"Good. Those batteries seem to have limitless possibilities."

"What about resistance from the rest of the Project?"

"As near as we can tell Mr. President, The Project was a hundred miles wide and a inch deep. We keep looking for supporting infrastructure and there isn’t any. Aden has pointed us to the locations where almost everything for the Fleet is made and they are, so far ALL government contractors. They all thought they were doing Black Project work fro their individual governments. Lockheed has been building the "A" series since the late ë50’s, DOD auditors found records that indicate everyone who worked on Project designs had been sworn to secrecy based on AMERICAN law, no mention of The Project or Committee anywhere to be found. President Samoylov’s men have found the same thing in Russia, ditto for the Brits and the French. PM Ellery’s people report the same thing, everybody though they were working for their national defense community."

"So we can duplicate The Project’s ships?"

"Easily. Without the same heavy veil of secrecy we might even be able to do it faster."

"What about the problems with the Fleet?"

That was Lisa’s department. "Sir, that is one hell of a mess. Most of the Fleet seems to have decided to follow Aden’s lead. Apparently your Speech, along with Samoylov’s and especially Ellery’s, combined with that of Aden himself has convinced most of the Defense Command to come over to Aden’s and by extension, Project countries, command. The Sputnik, and a couple of weapon bases on the Moon have decided to go their own way and are treating other Fleet units as hostiles."

"Do we have any presence on the Fleet yet?"

"Just on the local orbital platforms. Delta and Vympel Operators are on several of the Platforms and S.A.S. and Chinese Dadui are on some of the others. As agreed no platform has less than two different national military forces on board. So far we haven’t been able to find anything that indicates that the platforms have ANY kind of ground attack weaponry. In fact the people Delta questioned on the subject looked quote "horrified at the entire concept" unquote. The manned platforms don’t even have reasonable Intel gathering ability for Earth based observation. Some of the unmanned satellites are eavesdroppers, according to Fleet, those were controlled in the Security offices. That has been hard to verify."

"Why?"

"Simply put there aren’t very many Security types left on the platforms."

"Fleet and Security apparently have never been close." Explained Budman. "This change in management brought those issue to the forefront. Most of the Security guys would up being pushed out of airlocks. My operators are being VERY careful."

"Can they handle things if the need arises?"

"No Problem. They all have explosive packs set up on dead-man controls. If something happens those platforms will be very expensive pieces of debris So far there seems to be little to worry about. Aden’s people have a nearly religious zeal about protecting the Earth."

"How about the question we’ve been asking?"

"Everything is centered on Earth, Humanity, and Mankind. No one seems to give two shits about Venus or Mercury, unless "The Enemy" starts to launch attacks from there." Replied Budman.

"Well, how about that? Good news for a change." Hendriks actually smiled for a moment. "Lisa, how was your meeting?"

The Project countries had decided to have a face to face meeting to discuss the immediate future. There was, understandably, still a great deal of concern about Project assassins, so Foreign Ministers and other representatives had attended. Hendriks had sent Lisa, along with the Secretary of State to represent the U.S. State was good man, but he knew zip about the Project, although part of the reason for sending him was to learn. Lisa, on the other hand, had been in on the secret for far longer and could make sense of the conversations.

"It went well. So far national self interest doesn’t seem to rearing its ugly head. I’m sure that will change quickly, but for now everyone is on the same page. We agreed on a message. You, and the rest of the Heads of State, have until 13.00 GMT tomorrow to veto the wording. No veto and we send the message as agreed at 13.01 GMT tomorrow. We really didn’t have any significant changes from the draft Samoylov sent out last week. He seems to have a better grip on this part of the game than anyone else. I’m beginning to wonder if he isn’t some kind of Sci-Fi geek, its like he was working on this since he was a kid."

"Hell, maybe he was. In any case, I can’t find a reason to not go with his proposal, at least at this point. Anyone disagree?" No one spoke up. "Okay. We go with it."

"We’re adjourned. Get some rest. We meet again at Seven AM tomorrow."

49.

TH’’kr’hT was not overly blessed with patience, at least by The People’s standards. Compared to the average human, however, he had the patience of the Pyramids. Still, with the fleet, within a watch cycle’s communication range, he was anxious. The Earthers had promised a message by now, and as yet he had nothing.

The fate of the entire People rode on what the Earthers said next. Long-range patrols had found nothing for 300 cycles of Fleet travel if the Second Planet was not shared. That meant the Fleet would have to stop somewhere and rebuild most of the ships. That meant that more generations would spend their entire spans on the Ships with no hope of ever seeing sky over their head, of or having enough space to raise a true nest. They would condemned to the life that had been the fate of The People since the GV"NC’HTR"kh". Had The People not paid their debt for that foolishness yet? What did GG"lR’o need for the People to do in order to regain his favor?

One piece of good news was that the AU’!oi"’! word crunchers had been able to greatly improve his Command’s understanding of the Earther tongues, especially the three that seemed to be most dominant. They had actually reached the point that some of the amusement transmissions made some sense. Most however, especially those with the background growling, remained complete mysteries, despite the constant repetition of the data.

A runner relieved TH’’kr’hT of his worries.

"Commander, We have a high powered message from the Earthers. It is in the most common broadcast language. We are able to translate it almost as quickly as it is received."

"Excellent. I will come to your section."

"Commander? Yes commander. May I go to prepare the way?"

"Yes you are dismissed." TH’’kr’hT had to click in humor as he watched the runner literally bounce off the wall as he headed for the Translation Department and it’s Young Leader.

"Commander, The first version is complete. As before it seems to repeat in other Earther tongues, the same as before.

"Here is the translation of the first message."

"Good. Resume you work." Everyone in the compartment immediately dug into their efforts.

"Not you Leader. Bring a copy of the transmission and attend me."

"Commander." The Leader’s respect, already great among his work group, jumped several notches. Attend the COMMANDER! Such honor to a mere Full Leader!

TH’’kr’hT walked back to the command center. Once there he began to read.

GREETING FROM THE NATIONS OF (LIST OF SEVERAL MEGA-COMMONS).

WE APOLOGIZE OUR DELAY FOUR. CLEARER IS OUR KNOWLEDGE KNOW.

WE WISH (GARBLE) FRIEND WITH YOU. WE WANT TO TALK YOU.

PLEASE GIVE US UNDERSTAND FOR YOU VISIT.

NEED YOU HELP.

NEED YOU VISIT.

WE WANT HELP IF CAN.

WE WELCOME FRIEND.

WE NO WELCOME (UNKNOWN WORD) OR ENEMY.

YOU MENTION PLANET TWO.

WHAT PLANET TWO YOU SEEK.

PLANET TWO FROM STAR.

WE CALL VENUS.

PLANET TWO FROM END OF PLANETS

WE CALL NEPTUNE

WHICH PLANET TWO

WHY YOU MENTION PLANET TWO.

WE WISH PEACE.

YOU WISH PEACE.

YOUR TURN TO SEND TRANSMISSION.

(MESSAGE ENDS)

"So my young DR" gh! RT"’ what do you think?"

The youngster was stunned by the honor bestowed. "Commander It appears that al least several of the Earther Mega-commons have taken over the communication with us. This message is not generic. It lists the Mega-commons based on where the name comes in this Earther language. If the list of names remains the same in the other messages, it might tell us who is dominant."

"We do not know this? The GR’ph’fr"SR leader tells me that the ones called chq!’! are the dominant. Is he mistaken?"

"He refers to one of the information shows. It seems that chq!’! has the most population. We have no proof that this is how the Mega-commons are ranked. If anything, I believe they are not agreed on any ranking. It is a very strange situation. Even right before the GV"NC’HTR"kh" all agreed on Mega-Common and GR’ph’fr"SR powers."

"Indeed, it so recorded in The Documents. Could this be why the Earthers took so long to respond?"

"Yes Commander. But I do not believe it to be the reason. It seems more likely that it was Rouges. Again it is confusing, but it seems a large number of Rouges attacked a loyal GR’ph’fr"SR nest. They were defeated and their leaders are subject of Crusade. It is difficult to understand, because the visual scans do not show any GR’ph’fr"SR, or anything that could be Earther GR’ph’fr"SR, just regular Earthers with strange tools. MY GR’ph’fr"SR adviser says that the tools look like killing sticks. He can not explain why regular Earthers would have killing sticks in such great numbers. I have a sub team checking for clues.

When the other transmissions arrive, I will check to see if the Mega-common name order remain the same. I believe it will change to match the language. That would also help to explain the delay. We will know in half a watch, perhaps sooner."

"Very good. Attend me again when all messages have been received, translated, and analyzed. Compare them to see how similar the terms are between them."

"Commander!"

****

"What is our current status with the messages?" asked Samoylov.

"The Americans have sent it directly at the original Alien transmission location. As we have agreed all of the countries sending the message are sending it to different parts of the sky, just in case the aliens have moved."

"Good."

"Sir, may I ask a question?"

"Yes."

"What are going to do about this? There is no way to keep it secret if the aliens make a reply."

"Actually, there is. We will, however, not use it. No, if the aliens respond, we will deal with it as should have been done from the first."

"How is that Sir?"

"Truthfully. For a change, we will tell the people the truth. They may have some trouble accepting it at first, they have been lied to for so very long, but in the end they will accept it. They are far wiser than some believe. Yes, the truth will be just the thing."

****

The Commander was happy to see the youngster, He hoped that he brought good news.

"Commander. All the transmissions are very similar. As I expected the Mega-commons names were always in the order that they fell in the Earther Language. The messages all come out the same. They ask if we need help, if we want to communicate. They all make a point of mentioning that if we come as an foe, we are not welcome. The Earthers seem to have much fear of attack. I do not know why. They have an entire PLANET, how they think we can really harm them is difficult to understand. Even if we had as many GR’ph’fr"SR as we have People in the Fleet, they would be in no danger. They could destroy us with rocks."

"My young DR" gh! RT"’, you need to spend more time reading The Documents and understanding how worrisome the unknown can be. They fear we will cause them GV"NC’HTR"kh". "

"We would NEVER do that. Far better to drift for all time. The People would die before we would cause that. Never. Never Again!"

"I know that, as do we all. The Earthers do not. They do not know what we have experienced. How can any species, which has not experienced it, understand? WE will need to keep this in mind when we send our transmission. Return to me in a quarter Watch. We will compose our response."

"We Commander?"

"Of course. You are my expert on the Earthers. Bring some of your Technicians if you feel they will help. All relies on our response. This I sense. The future of The People may be set in the next Watch cycles.

"Go now."

The Commander watched the youngster leave with as much haste as dignity allowed. The Fleet was one tenth of a Cycle away. Time was almost up.

TH’’kr’hT realized that his time was nearly up as well. Success or Failure, he was near the end of his days as Commander of the Landing Preparation Group.

How The Documents would judge him was really all that remained to be decided.

50.

"So Aden thinks he has control?"

"Yes Mr. President. He still can’t account for two cruisers and that one rail-gun keeps flinging beer cans at nine-tenths of the speed of light at anyone who appears." Replied Ochna. "By the way we REALLY need to see the plans for that thing. It has some interesting implications.

"But back to subject he is sure that he has the Fleet in hand."

"What about Brazil? That supply base could be a huge problem."

"Well the rats seem to be deserting that sinking ship. We have had two of the Ferrets and both A-Twenty Sixes, along with the supply ships they were escorting, defect on their return flights. The Fleet commander there, according to the latest messages refuses to send any more ships out the be "destroyed." The Brasilia’s along with the forces the French have in country are reporting that they are getting a steady stream of deserters from the base. We might get lucky and be able to starve them out rather than kill them. The Brazilian Ambassador made it very clear to the SecState that Brasilia will not accept a second foreign adventure" on Brazilian soil. He hasn’t decided if it was us, the Russians, or the Brits, who tore the City to shreds, but he wants us all to know that he won’t sit by for a rerun. He is willing to let the first mission go, mostly because we waxed the Adviser, who was apparently a much bigger asshole that Thomas ever dreamed of being, but that’s it. No more intervention. He won’t even let Delta or SAS in the country. Our relations there will be a problem for a while."

"We’ll deal with that once we get past the current situation. I don’t agree with Aden. Those missing ships are actually aircraft carriers. Three splinter fighters each. Either they are both still out there, looking to start a problem, or the Sputnik found the Mercury and destroyed her. That is NOT having matters in hand."

"Yes Sir. We are somewhat stuck in any case. Even if I trusted the pilots of the space planes, which I don’t, there is only so much we can do. It is a BIG sky, and the space planes can only patrol a small part of it. The three deeps space cruisers won’t be in position for almost eight weeks and when they get here they will be more or less sitting ducks until they are able to get more reaction mass. The older cruisers have less reaction mass so they won’t be a big problem."

"Meaning what?"

Lisa stepped in, Manny looked like his skull was about to explode. "Mr. President, that means that they will need to be refuelled. The Fleet uses water as reaction mass. The cruisers will use all of theirs up accelerating and decelerating. Even when the Fleet engineers I talked to tried to use little words, that’s about as far as I could understand. I only have a Master’s in Aeronautical Engineering, you really need a couple of physic PhD’s to learn the system and try to translate it. Bottom line is that the missing cruisers will be out of gas by the time they get to Earth."

"How did they develop something that advanced? Even with all the money they had to spend, how could they possibly have created something like that?"

"They didn’t invent it. They stole it."

"From Who?" asked Hendriks.

"The drive system for the cruisers is a straight lift from the Roswell ship. Even then it took 30 years to really get it to work right. They got the basic idea for that portable power source from the crash site as well. They’ve had that since the early Sixties."

"Wait. You’re telling me that The Project had the answer to most of this Planet’s energy problems available since the SIXTIES! And they never bothered to share it?"

"Yes Sir." Replied the Vice President. "They chose not to inform the quote "Political Members" unquote because they were afraid that the politicians would want to use the discovery for the wrong purposes."

"In other words we would have used them for something besides the Project."

"Yes Sir."

"Do they have any idea what we could have avoided if they had bothered to share that information?"

Budman had the answer. "Yes they do Sir. Mr. Denis was asked about that. His response was those matters are of no consequence. We had to protect The Project.’ When we pointed out how many people have died because that decision he just shrugged. The PRC representative at the interrogation has made an official "request" that we give the PRC Denis for final disposition’. His government apparently feels that the Western governments will be insufficiently harsh to the Project leadership."

"I’m not sure I disagree. We’ll deal with that issue when it is necessary. They understand that Aden is hands off?"

"Yes is. They don’t like it, but they will accept it. As for the rest of the Committee, they already have the bullets set aside. That will be a sore point before we are done."

"If that is the only sore point it will be a miracle.’ Replied Hendriks. "By the way, I have already signed the Presidential Pardons for all of you. If the post crisis investigations go South, you are all covered."

"It won’t come to that."

"I hope you are right. I just sent one to Presidents James, Lewis, Bush, and Clinton by special messenger. The Congress AND the American People are going to demand some answers, and the fewer people they have to roast the better. I’ll take my chances, but everyone else deserves to be left alone."

The Hot line phone trilled. Hendriks crossed the room, entered his code and answered.

"This is President Hendriks."

Samoylov was on the other end of the line. "I expected no one else my Dear Friend. We have just received the alien response. Since you are on the far side of the Planet and you are, as they say, masked. I thought I would forward it to you. It should be coming through on your NSA receivers even now."

"Thank you Olegivich."

"You are quite welcome my friend. Change is afoot. I will speak to you soon."

51.

RENEWED GREETINGS TO EARTH.

WE WELCOME LAST TRANSMISSION.

FRIENDS BE OUR HOPE.

NOT ENEMY WE ARE. COME NOT TO KILL.

ASK FOR HELP YES.

WE LONG TRAVEL. NO HOME WE HAVE.

HOPE YOU SHARE PLANET CALL VENUS.

NO WANT EARTH. NO CAN LIVE EARTH.

EARTH TOO COLD. EARTH TOO WET.

VENUS LIKE OLD HOME FOR (GARBLE).

VENUS AIR CAN WE BREATHE.

NO CAN BREATHE EARTH AIR. EARTH AIR KILL (GARBLE).

(GARBLE) TRAVEL LONG SINCE (GARBLE). VENUS PLACE TO REST.

WE ASK SHARE. WE PLEA SHARE VENUS.

WE NO KILL. EARTH SAY NO (GARBLE) LEAVE.

PLEASE SHARE. SHARE GOOD. HELP GOOD.

FRIEND BE EARTH AND (GARBLE).

WE ASK PEACE AND HELP.

WE WAIT FOR REPLY.

PLEASE SHARE. PLEASE HELP.

The message was less than 150 words in length. It altered the world.

Unlike the last communication, this time there was not a concerted effort to destroy the second message to humanity from another species. This time one was not needed.

The egg still stuck to their collective faces from last time, the world’s media outlets were far more cautious than mere weeks earlier. The remnants of The Project’s media organization did what they could, especially those parts of the organization who never had realized that they had been part of a global conspiracy. Those naysayers simply did what they normally did, questioned how something like this were possible and shouted how the last time had turned out to be a hoax. These factors combined to slow the world-wide acceptance of the message as real. It was time that the Project member states used to their best advantage.

Having warned virtually every government on the Planet that some kind of message was likely, without going into great detail, the Project States had already discussed what they should do, if the Aliens were, in fact, looking to land on Venus. It had been the Israeli Prime Minister, a chemist by training, who had first noticed, when rereading a non self destructing version of the original Roswell report, that the "poison gas" used at Roswell, was a near perfect match for the deadly atmosphere of Earth’s near twin Planet. From there, President Samoylov and the Australian PM had championed the idea that the Aliens wanted nothing to do with the Earth, but were looking to Venus as either a rest stop, or a colony. The discussion about what should be said if the aliens asked for help, or for Earth’s approval to land on Venus, had been quite brisk. In the end, to several of the leader’s shock, it was the Chinese Premier who had made the statement that had ended the argument.

"What right do we have to deny them a place we can never use? Even our best efforts MELT on that world. Are we to be like those we have just driven from power? Are we fascists?"

From that point things had fallen into place, at least to a degree. All five Permanent Members of the UN Security Council (a title that brought more than one grimace when the matter was broached) were Project nation-states. The three countries with the largest populations on Earth were Project members. The two most powerful economies were members, The largest military powers were all members. Most importantly, the most influential countries, except Japan and Germany, were Project countries. The decision was made that the Project countries would do everything they could to ensure that the aliens were permitted to go to Venus.

Some voices were heard to protest that the Aliens might REALLY be THE ENEMY. These concerns were stopped by a single question.

"If they are that powerful, why would they ASK not demand?" No reasonable answer was ever presented. Despite the storm of controversy that was sure to come from every side, be it religious, political, xenophobic, or simply fearful, the leaders of the Project nation-states decided to be exactly that. Leaders. They would simply tell the truth. In the world of human politics, it was an unheard of decision.

****

It took three days for the internet buzz to percolate into the general public conscientious. By then the new Project leaders had chosen a time for their coordinated addresses. For those who understand the world’s media, it was not surprising that the time of the addresses was decided by when the American Networks had to cover it live.

11:00 AM Washington DC

"My fellow Americans.

"We have all listened in amazement to the messages from space, messages that seem to be beyond imagination.

"These messages are REAL. Your government, and the governments of nations around the world have confirmed that these messages, both the one received three days ago and that received weeks ago, are NOT A HOAX. Mankind has had one of its greatest questions answered, are we alone? We are not. Other intelligent species exist.

"Now I must tell you a even more shocking story. It is a story of good intentions gone astray. It is a story of what happens when good men allow things to go too far, for what they see as the best of reasons.

"Our story begins in a remote corner of New Mexico on June Thirtieth, Nineteen Forty-Seven. On that day a chance"

52.

Defense Command never seemed to know what it wanted. Go her, go there. Patrol this area. Review this sector. If there had been ground Challenger would have worn a series of crisscrossed paths by now. Finally, however, they had a real mission. One worthy of the ship’s proud name. It was about time

The Commander of the Challenger reread the message:

***** COMMANDER, CRUISER CHALLENGER*****

RENDEZVOUS WITH HEAVY CRUISERS AT POINT GAMMA.

PROCEED WITH MISSION AS BRIEFED.

GOOD LUCK AND GODSPEED.

COMBINED DEFENSE COMMAND.

*****END MESSAGE*****

TH’’kr’Ht was waiting at the point the Earthers had designated. Why it was taking them so long to make the short flight was puzzling. Hopefully, they would be there soon. Time was short, and much depended on promptness.

"Incoming ship!"

Finally. Suddenly the ship was joined by two others. All three ships headed straight toward TH’’kr’hT. There sudden appearance was a surprise. Three ships at once had not been expected. What were the Earthers up to?

"TH’’kr’hT, this is Petrovna. How do you read." The delay was brief as the translator gave a nearly instantaneous repeat of the Earther ship’s hail.

"We read loud and clear. You are late. Again"

"Sorry. I wanted to top off the tanks." Replied Petrovna’s Captain.

"Why? Haven’t you listened to anything we have said?"

"Habit my DR" gh! RT"’. We humans do not have the deep space experience of The People. My delay was not enough to change our departure. The Samoylov and Challenger are also here, a few seconds later than I."

"The Samoylov can not be late, my friend. She is, after all, the flagship."

"True enough TH"T!dr""Ht!. Rank hath its privileges."

*****

It could have turned out so very different, thought TH"T!dr""Ht!. It had only been 244 cycles of the New Planet since The Hg"’! tr!"DR’h. So short a time, yet so much had occurred. The People had struggled the first 20 new cycles, Venus was not exactly like home, and the surface of a planet was nothing like the controlled environment of the ship, both facts had cost the lives of the overconfident or the foolish. In time, however, The People had begun to adapt to their new home. As they did, the first cautious messages were sent to Earth. These were answered by equally cautious transmissions from Earth.

Twenty New Cycles was a very brief time for the fears to subside on both sides. Had it Not been for the Blessed Petrovna; "May GG"lR’o watch over Her and her Nest for all Time!", the contacts might never have happened at all. Had Petrovna and the Mighty Challenger, "GG"lR’o watch over her valiant crew", not been present on the Day of The Hg"’! tr!"DR’h all might have been lost. Had Challenger not sacrificed herself to stop the Rouges of The Sputnik, The People might still be wandering, praying for a home. For those not of The People to have placed themselves in front of the missiles of the Sputnik when it became clear that they would strike a Ship had told The People much about the Earthers. When Resnik, "Blessed be her crew and their nests!" had then destroyed the Sputnik, the great Commander TH’’kr’hT had known he had truly succeeded in His mission. The People had found their new home.

Over the years, the Earthers had learned much from The People, and The People from the Earthers. In a way that seemed almost designed, the science of The People and that of Earth perfectly complemented each other. The Earthers, while well behind The People in many ways, had also known infinitely more about living ON a Planet than The Documents had provided. It had been an Earther, working on some calculations provided by one of The People’s science teams, who had discovered how to warp reality in a way that allowed Faster Than Light travel. The two Planets had together learned how to control the Sun Power that now drove their ships.

It had taken the Earthers many New Cycles to fully trust The People, but they had since proved to be good friends. TH"T!dr""Ht!, like many of the People still worried that the Earthers were too much like the GR’ph’fr"SR (or, as the humans called them, The Dragons) for their own good. They still demanded that the Heavy Cruisers and Cruisers be strongly armed, for defense, they said. TH"T!dr""Ht! believed that it was, at least in part, that Earthers just loved weapons, much like the "Dragons". Like the GR’ph’fr"SR, who shared many of the same traits, sometimes the humans had proved correct. At least one contact mission would not have come home without the Human Ship Hendriks and her weapons. Both species now avoided that part of space, and several ships, Human and Dragon, patrolled the exit from the warp path that joined Sol with that sector, TH"T!dr""Ht! was sure that any intruder would have a short, violent visit.

Now, two Heavy Cruisers, The Earther Samoylov & The People’s TH’’kr’hT, and two Cruisers Petrovna and Challenger (One habit that The People had picked up from the Earthers was naming ships after great people and great ships. It was a tradition of which all approved.) were headed out on a new contact mission. It promised to be most educational.

The AU’!oi"’! had, somehow, found where The People had settled and paid them a visit (having found their own method of FTL travel, different than that used by the residents of the Sol system). They had come to invite The People to a meeting. Once they realized that the Earthers were also spacefarers, the invitation had been expanded to include Earth as well as The People. The AU’!oi"’! had found two other space travelling species that did not shoot first and never bother to ask questions. This was the contact mission.

With GG"lR’o guidance, a Confederation might be in the offing. In any case, it would be an exciting trip!

"This is the Samoylov. Prepare to go to warp at Zero Zero One."

To an observer, it would have seemed impossible. In the blink of an eye, with no drama at all, the four huge ships simply vanished.

Unfortunately, no one had thought to record the departure. Given the momentous results of the mission it was a dreadful oversight.

That however, is a different story.