2184, USMC Black Site Delta
General Dwayne Morshower was a hard man. He'd spent four decades, all of his adult life, in the Corps. He wasn't one of the spineless surrender-lovers turned out by the academies. He'd begun as a grunt on the Frontier and earned his promotions by merit.
It was a story some would have found inspiring. It had led General Morshower to his least pleasant command yet, and he'd been a leader in some of the great shitstorms of the era. At a steep cost to human lives, the USMC had successfully not only captured a Queen Alien, but induced her safely into cryosleep. They had her but good, on a space station that maintained maximum security. Most of the staff had no idea where Black Site Delta was. They went into cryosleep at one station or planet and woke up at the site, with all knowledge of their flight path kept from them.
Today, General Morshower's blood was frozen in his veins. He had received a voice message through the usual Marine channels. The voice that spoke was deep and had excellent enunciation, but a strange intonation that wasn't like any accent Morshower had ever heard.
"Good day. I am aware that you have a Queen specimen of Internecivus raptus aboard your station. She is contained, but her mind is awake. You have attempted to make telepathic contact with human psychics unsuccessfully, losing the human end of the conversation uniformly. With your permission, I volunteer to make contact. I will succeed at this. Your response is eagerly awaited."
That was it. No channel to contact him back on, no name, no basis to his claims.
But he knew. Operation Dreamcatcher was not something that could be learned about. It was a matter of the absolute highest clearance, and even those who had heard distorted, muddled rumors would never have known where the Queen was stored. Announcing that on an unsecured military line had risked absolutely everything, but by happy accident or incredible planning, no one else seemed to have received the message. He would have heard the bells of doom ringing by now if anything had been leaked.
How did he know? General Morshower wondered.
Worst of all, that wasn't even the worst thing of all. The worst thing was that USMC General Morshower was, at least for the moment, completely at this strange man's mercy. He was absolutely correct. 112 professional dreamers and test-verified psychics with telepathic faculties had been sent in to establish communications with their sleeping beauty. All of them had come back from their attempt in a totally vegetative state. They had secured an Alien Queen, yes, but it was a hollow victory so far that had only cost marine lives, USMC resources, and three digits of military and civilian psychics. It was as if the Queen was still winning the conflict even in cryosleep. Anything that promised results had to be given a chance.
There was no one to consult with about his decision. His position was explicitly not accountable to anyone, given the nightmarish public relations meltdown that would definitely ensue if anything provable about Operation Dreamcatcher was ever to be made known. His advisors would have had no clearer guidance than he possessed in these freakish circumstances.
On the other hand, any successful communication with the Queen would be a sweet, long-awaited victory. If he played this with an eye towards appearances for the very few who would ever see his work, this was an opportunity not to be missed. If this mystery man could be as good as his word, General Morshower would be the visionary who had secured this capable operator. If he was in over his head and came out of it a carrot, Dreamcatcher was no worse for the wear.
Feeling a bit foolish but with no alternatives available, Morshower sent a message over the same channel he'd gotten one on. He had to mind his wording, since the channel wasn't private.
"Come and try."