The Night The Dreams Died
The Invasion Of Roswell, Part II
Judgment Day
Chapter 31
XXXI
Onboard the Antarian mothership, all the anguish, uncertainty, fears, and hardships of the last six months, since graduation day, and of this past day in particular… had finally and conclusively turned to long overdue joy. Families and friends were finally reunited, and some of those onboard were having the additional pleasant, even if confusing and somewhat eerie, experience of getting acquainted with their own doubles from an entirely different dimension and planet. Below the Antarian mothership, however, on the Mesaliko Reservation, the situation was beginning to heat up again. After the soldiers guarding the gate had fallen when Michael blasted by them on his motorbike, the crowd outside had surged ahead. There literally had been nothing the soldiers could do to stop it. Even if they could have found their guns in time, among all the charging bodies, and had fired them continuously, they still would not have been able to stop most of the surging crowd from getting in. The best they could do was to protect themselves from being trampled to death until the stampede passed.
And the situation on the Reservation was no longer strictly a local phenomenon. Diane's earlier broadcast had now been seen by millions – more likely tens or even hundreds of millions - as it was played and replayed by station KUVA all morning long and then picked up by the Associated Press and broadcast worldwide throughout the afternoon. The stream of vehicles pouring into Roswell since Diane's first broadcast had increased steadily throughout the day and had begun to take on all the atmosphere of a circus in the last few hours, with everyone from the expected curiosity seekers, protesters, and UFO and conspiracy buffs to lawyers showing up in droves. For some reason that no one seemed to know, two vans from Greenpeace even showed up.
If the soldiers who had been trying to keep the crowd out of the Reservation were having a bad day, though, they weren't the only ones. In Washington, D.C., a three-way conversation was going on at this very moment among the President, a General Otis Kingsley in Texas, and a National Guard Unit Commander, Colonel Alvin Brighton, in Alabama.
"Your name is on the papers signing off on these maneuvers, General Kingsley. You approved them."
"Yes, sir, Mr. President."
"What exactly is going on down there in Roswell, General? I have a man with me in my office right now, an Agent Daniel Klein, who is part of the Special Task Force down there, and he brought me video and other evidence suggesting an ongoing massacre on the Indian Reservation; yet General Haggerty and General Hawkins, who are in Roswell, both maintain that it is a training mission and that the Mesaliko Indians are in no danger. They maintain that the Mesalikos have gone along with the training exercise and are being paid for the use of their Reservation.
"Yes, sir, Mister President. The papers were hastily prepared, I know, but the plan was submitted through the normal channels… though it was expedited a bit along the way because of the importance of the maneuvers."
"What were the special circumstances, General?"
"According to the situation briefing that I received, this training mission was to be a simulated preemptive strike on a terrorist network in a remote desert location. The situation briefing said that it was in response to a perceived threat from terrorists on the border of Afghanistan who are believed to be planning an attack on our nation with chemical or small nuclear weapons."
"I've seen the briefings on these cells, General… but I was unaware of this training mission before Mr. Klein informed me of it. Why was I kept out of the loop on this?"
"Training exercises do not require presidential notification, Mr. President, with all due respect, sir."
"Of course not, General. But exercises that involve special circumstances do… and destroying homes on a reservation strikes me as a very special circumstance, doesn't it to you?"
"Uh… yes, sir, it does. It would have been General Haggerty's responsibility to submit the briefing to you, sir, but I understand that this mission was put together quickly to simulate the need for a quick response. It's possible that you haven't seen it yet, Mr. President."
"I HAVEN'T seen it, General, and I have no briefing regarding it. Are you aware that right now the A.P. is broadcasting footage of this mission worldwide?"
"No, sir!"
"Are you aware that most of the houses on the Mesaliko Reservation have been destroyed in this so-called training mission?"
"No, sir!"
"Are you aware of the claims that are being made by the Associated Press that this is a grudge mission… put together by the head of the Alien Task Force in Roswell, a special agent who goes by the name Culpepper, and is actually retribution against the Mesalikos for hiding an… uh… alien?"
"No, sir. An alien, sir? From what country?"
"Not another country, General… an alien alien… from out there somewhere. That's what's being reported by the A.P. They're quoting a local newswoman who made the claim earlier in the day and who has since disappeared along with her entire news crew. I want you to find out immediately exactly what IS going on on that reservation; and Colonel Brighton…"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"I want YOU to get a fighter squadron ready… in case we need it to end this… uh, situation quickly and we have to convince General Haggerty or this Agent Culpepper that it's not merely a request we're making."
"Any particular squadron, sir?"
"I had one in mind, Colonel, yes."
"I'll have them ready, Mr. President. Do you think that will be necessary, sir… against our own people?"
"I think we need to assure the peace on that reservation, Colonel… whatever that involves or requires. I'm hopeful that no force will be necessary, but if what is being reported is even partially true, we may need to show at least the resolve to use force if required in order to convince Generals Haggerty and Hawkins and their special agent of our intentions. Haggerty, in particular, has been known to be a bit… let's say, obsessive in the past, and from what I'm being told, this Special Agent Culpepper from the Task Force is even more so. And General Hawkins was involved in an attempted cover-up of an incident two years ago in which one of his units caused some minor damage in a civilian area. We will need to get a team in there and check out the Reservation to determine to what extent the reports might be true… if they're true… and I do not want General Haggerty or General Hawkins or this Special Agent Culpepper destroying or altering any of the evidence before we can get in there. We may also need to protect the reservation from unintentional damage by well-intentioned people. Have you seen the news?"
"No, sir. I was in a meeting all morning, Mr. President."
"Well, watch it, Colonel. Both of you watch it. Be aware of what we're up against."
"Yes, sir."
"And General Kingsley."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Get an AWAC plane up over that area STAT. I want recon photos of anything unusual going on there."
"Yes, sir."
**********
As fate would have it, at the same time as the President was talking with General Kingsley in Texas and Colonel Brighton in Alabama, Special Agent Culpepper was holding a three-way conference of his own…
"Yes, General Hawkins, sir, I understand that I am in charge of the Alien Task Force's Special Unit at this time and I'm supposed to be handling this, but we have a major situation here, SIR! There is a bona-fide, major UFO sitting directly over the Mesaliko Reservation and part of Roswell right now, and I don't have the firepower I need to bring it down! I really need some reinforcements down here… STAT!"
There was a short pause, then a frustrated General Hawkins' voice came back over the intercom… "Listen, Barker, try to understand this… General Haggerty and I have given you Cobra helicopters, we've given you tanks… even some of our F-16 fighter jets with conventional missiles… but there is no way I'm giving you a nuclear missile! This is already going to take a lot of cleaning up before I can… uh… report this… uh… incident. The collateral damage from a nuclear missile would be my swan song."
"But we're talking about a UFO, General! And not just any little UFO! This is NOT that little tin toy that you had in lock down in Area 51, sir. We're talking a monster truck here versus… a… a Yugo. This thing is three miles across, and our missiles don't even penetrate its defensive shield or whatever's protecting it. It just sits up there… impervious to all our weapons… mocking us! Mocking ME!"
"Barker, if you did bring this thing down where it is now, wouldn't it fall on the Reservation?"
"There's nothing there to
worry about, General… not anymore. Besides, it might help to explain what
happened to the… uh… Indians who used to be there… with a little special
preparation and clean-up… You know what I'm saying? We can put a few bodies
under the ship… inside whatever's left of the houses…"
There was another pause on the line. "Yeah… yeah, I understand you, but… what about Roswell? You said it was over Roswell, too. How do we explain half the city getting crushed under this thing?"
"We don't have to explain it, General! For God's sake! Shit happens! We were just protecting the nation… THE WORLD!… from an alien attack. We'll get medals!"
General Hawkins sighed audibly and drummed his fingers on his desk for several long moments as he thought about it. "I don't know, Barker. It sounds dangerous… to ME! I'll consult with General Haggerty. We'll get back to you."
General Hawkins hung up the line, leaving Barker, alias Agent Culpepper, frustrated… especially in view of the fact that he was pretty certain that the firepower he had requested was not going to be forthcoming. General Hawkins had considered it. He was almost convinced. But there was that little element of danger. No. He wouldn't be giving Culpepper the weapons he was requesting. Culpepper was sure of that. He couldn't expect Haggerty to come through for him either. In the end, someone doesn't become a general, Culpepper told himself, without covering his ass pretty well… and this would almost be like streaking in church for them. The danger of exposure was too great. Culpepper, on the other hand, had no such qualms or concerns to bother him. The protection of the whole world was in his hands now.
**********
"Climb out of the plane," Agent Culpepper yelled up to the pilot of the F-16 preparing to taxi to the runway. The pilot pulled back his canopy and removed his helmet, then he powered down his jet.
"What's going on?"
"I need your plane," Culpepper said. "I've been ordered to use this one for a special mission."
"I wasn't told anything," the pilot said.
"This is very hush-hush, Lieutenant. I expect you to keep it that way. You guys haven't been able to dent that UFO with your missiles. General Haggerty wants me to try something else."
"It won't do any good," the pilot said, shaking his head. "We've fired thousands of rounds and at least twenty missiles at that thing. It all just disappear into thin air. That ship's impervious. It doesn't even know we're attacking it. It would take a nuke to bring it down."
"That's what I told the general," Culpepper said.
"A nuke?"
"The general wouldn't give me one. I had to come up with something just as good. Lieutenant, did you ever watch Star Wars… you know, the original movie?"
"Yeah… I saw it several times. I've got all the episodes on DVD."
"Remember the Death Star?"
"Yeah."
"Remember how they destroyed it?"
"Yeah. Luke shot a missile into a small vent that went to the reactor in the core."
"Right. And when the Death Star was being rebuilt in the third movie, they destroyed that one by flying one of those X-Wings right into the inside of the thing, firing into the reactor, and flying back out before it all blew up."
"Yeah. I remember that," the pilot said.
"Well, Lieutenant, there's been an AWAC up there taking recon photos of that ship and the area and transmitting them back. I assume General Hawkins or General Haggerty sent it up. Look at these recon photos that have been coming in. Do you see anything?"
"I see one monster UFO," the pilot said.
"Do you see this vent… right here?" Culpepper pointed to a part of the picture.
"You're going to fire a missile into that?" The pilot looked unconvinced.
"It's a bigger opening than it looks like in the photo, Lieutenant. That opening is big enough to fly a fighter jet into… and back out again."
The pilot shook his head. "Uh uh… It may be big enough to fly into, but where are you going to turn around? You don't even know what's in there?"
"The reactor's in there, Lieutenant. Recon has confirmed it. It's emitting some kind of ions from the vent that can only come from a reactor. It's not nuclear, but it should blow up with one helluva a bang just the same. There's a similar vent on the other side of the ship. That's a distance of three miles… one and a half in… fire my missiles… then one and a half out the other side. This F-16 can cover that distance in under 30 seconds. It should be enough time for me to get out before the whole thing goes up."
"You're crazy," the pilot said, shaking his head. "Did General Hawkins approve this?"
"General Haggerty ordered it," Culpepper lied.
The pilot breathed a deep breath and let it out slowly again. "Well, I guess he knows what he's doing… but I wouldn't want to fly into that thing and shoot a missile into its reactor… whatever it is… then try to get back out again."
"Nobody's asking you to, Lieutenant. I flew one of these planes for several years before I became part of the Unit. I'm taking this ride."
"I'm glad it's you and not me," the pilot said honestly, stepping out of the way, as Culpepper climbed into the pilot's seat and powered the F-16 up again. Moments later, Culpepper taxied the F-16 to the end of the runway… then the plane's engines roared, as the jet rushed down the runway and lifted into the air, banking into the sun and heading off in the direction of the Reservation and Roswell.
The pilot watched his plane disappear then walked into the airmen's barracks and set his helmet down on a table.
"I thought you were flying," a voice behind him said.
The pilot turned around, and a young airman handed him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks. Yeah, I was, but apparently the General had other ideas."
"Ah, yes! He can be like that."
"Weren't you on the first recon mission… the one that just got back," the lieutenant asked the young airman.
"Yep… We got a great bird's eye view of that thing. It's huge! I can only wonder how they make it just sit up there like that."
The lieutenant nodded. "So the primary propulsion it uses isn't nuclear, huh?"
The airman raised his eyebrows a notch and shook his head. "How'd you know that?"
"Somebody told me. What kind of reactor does it use?"
The airman breathed in deeply then exhaled softly. "Anti-matter."
tbc