A Thirteenth Hour, page 5
We were at the nearer, to the stronghold, side of the ice lake. As I suspected the troop of men had decided to cross the ice lake, rather than, take a longer two mile detour. It was very cold and it was beginning to be windy outside.
I had attached the inner prototype spool of wire to the edge of the ice lake. When, they were halfway across the ice covered lake; I threw Bandit in the opposite direction of the troop of men down the hill that was attached to the mountain. I had thrown him in the direction that approached the path to the clearance site. It was the best I could do for him; in case I didn’t make it. I had to have him as a diversion and to force the troop of men to exert force on the top of the ice.
I saw all of their heads seem to jerk up, and I pressed the on button of the prototype. They collapsed into the shattering ice, “no more,” “ice” lake, and I waited and then realized they had been dragged to the bottom of the lake.
Just then the snow and ice, I had apparently underestimated the power and effectiveness of the device, collapsed around me. I grabbed for the prototype, missed, and I slid/fell onto the rocks underneath; after the vertical bottom drop from above on the short ledge I was lying on.
When I woke up I instinctively looked at my watch. I had been unconscious for about ten minutes. The prototype was lying about five feet away. Incredible enough, the green operational/on light was still on. I checked my bones and found none were broken. Right then, Bandit licked my forehead with a raspy tongue. He stood behind me; apparently waiting for me to wake up. He also, apparently, found it too inconvenient to walk around to the front of me to give me those couple of licks.
I wound up the, now loose, wire. I put Bandit back in my parka. I realized that these troopers, who had probably parachuted in from the “weather balloon,” most likely had other troops coming in from another direction! Some had probably jumped from the testing balloon at a different time! I again put the prototype away in my right side pocket and started walking the mile and a half to the clearance site. In all likelihood the noise, if it was heard at all, would be taken as a natural occurrence or an accidental avalanche caused by their own troops. I apologized to Bandit as I began my trek.
I found myself laying on the inverse opposite side of a small sharply sloped hill; it was covered with snow. What I saw amazed me. My guys and half of the security team were engaged with about forty men in an automatic weapons, and mutual hand grenade, fire-fight. Our people were pinned down by sniper fire from two of their troopers on an adjacent ridge. I also saw something our guys didn’t. Sixty or so of their troopers were about a mile away coming in at their, my guys, rear from a forty-five degree angle. The outcome was obvious.
I switched Bandit to the right inside location of my parka. I looked up and noticed an ice ledge onto a multiple glacier potential domino effect slightly in front and above the “unknown” incoming trooper’s locale. I quickly strung wire from the prototype to that ice ledge. My body warmed from the hope and exertion of the effort.
This time I was a maximum distance away from the end of the wire I had planted into the ice ledge. I had lain my automatic rifle, now with the scope where I had affixed it, down beside me. I looked and saw Chris with his binoculars fixed on the “unknown” troopers. I saw him rise and move zig zag toward the already engaged opponents position; his automatic machine gun being fired fully. I saw William and Maryland rise, handguns up, firing in the same general direction. Their was covering fire from the whole crew and four successive pops from a grenade launcher one of my “lieutenants” had held back for just such a rally with the opposition. Chris had realized the odds were turning, and had decided to sacrifice himself in a rallying, offensive move hoping the group could break away. I acted.
I pulled Bandit out and threw him backwards over my head. The noise he made was very distracting. I hit the button on the prototype and then grabbed my automatic weapon, and focused on the sniper location; I saw two long barreled sniper rifles aimed at me. I pulled and held my trigger. A quarter second later I felt impact in my right shoulder and then extreme pain. I noticed before releasing my weapon that both snipers had taken multiple bullet wounds in their torsos and heads from my weapon.
I looked to my left in time to see a giant ice sheet from the previous glaciers I had spotted take out the entire body of the “unknown” troopers. I noticed that Chris lay in a small pool of blood. I saw more flashes and machine gun fire originating from my people; part of another ice sheet helped take out more of the imminent enemy troopers. I was checking to find Maryland visually and then nothing.
I was cold and that angered me; until I realized that this would probably be a “snow day,” and I wouldn’t have to go to school.
I felt some-one slapping me; lightly at first and then harder. I opened my eyes and saw Cliff’s face framed by his parka. I tried to focus. He said “we killed them all; are all the others dead. Did you see any others?” I used my many years learned discipline and answered: “Yeah they’re at the bottom of what was the ice lake. I used the prototype. Where is it the prototype?”
He looked me in the eyes and placed it in my left hand. He said “what do we do?”
I said “who’s dead or wounded?”
He replied “Chris and our security guy Scott are dead. Only minor wounds except for you. What do you want me to do? You’ve been out for twenty-five hours. The cargo jet will be here in forty minutes. We’re at the loading site.”
I said “good work! Maryland, William, Elise, Bandit and the dead go with me on the jet. The rest of you maintain only secure and limited communication contact when the jet is spotted visually. No secure information is to be transmitted. I put the prototype in my left side pocket and felt a shooting pain coming from my right shoulder. Unceremoniously, I was unconscious again.
I woke and noticed I was in the Presidential bedroom. I wondered why I was there. I slowly remembered my last thoughts. I wondered if I had died. I was wearing a hospital nightgown; so I concluded I wasn’t dead. Do Secret servicemen wake up in the Presidential bedroom in heaven when they die? A lot of different stories circulated in my time in the Secret Service. It’s a good question.
I felt a hand on my left arm. I looked and was surprised to see the President. I jerked and reached for my keys. I must have been on a pain reliever because I felt so good and the pain was minimal.
The President said “we’ve got the cube and the one version of the prototype and God Bless You my daughter is safe! The stronghold has ninety-two seals S.E.A.L.s there now too. They’re, the inhabitants, also safe!”
He put his finger to his lips. “They got a Vice Presidential courier pouch and their good at piecing things together. The courier was killed and we all took it as a traffic accident that incinerated everything; we’ll know better next time.”
I said “I buried the time capsule!” He looked at me with approval. “And now, we’ll retrieve it and seal off that entire area,” he said.
“Do you want to get married,” he asked; “After all,” he smiled widely, “we’re family. I can broach the question.” It was a statement, by him, not a question.
I said, “Whaaaat!”
He said “there is a Naval Lieutenant Commander who wants to tie the knot with you for good! I thought maybe a double wedding: You, Elise, Mr. Celebry and Maryland.” He hurried on saying “By the way it’s inconvenient in closely held Washington D.C. circles for my detractors to speak ill of me; now that you and a bunch of your people are up for the Medal of Honor. As well as other medals.”
Just then a Catholic Army chaplain, Elise, William, Maryland and Bandit came in. There were tears in both Elise and Maryland’s eyes.
By the way they wanted; which was a “pig in a poke,” the research. The research and Maryland were their primary goals. She was a “chip” and a possible hostage for their safety on the way out. They still didn’t know what we were researching, but they sure did know it was important!
They tried to take the President’s son at the same time they attacked us. We had prepared for just that eventuality. It was their only two surviving people who confirmed this information for us. They had the basic floor plans for our area of the stronghold and carried explosives to blow the locks. When I charted my stars there must have been one lucky one.
“The Wisdom not to”
Success, whether material or moral, is something that crossed my mind when I was young quite often. As Americans we’re taught that the legitimate pursuit of success is something we should all aspire to. I think success is something that can be lauded if only because of its usual high personal cost. I only know that I am more easily satisfied by smaller and simpler things: friendship, building a novel psychological model, helping some-one take a forward step towards realizing their potential, and making a contribution to an important missionary project.
I lay in bed thinking about the past seven and a half years. I had obtained my M.S. in Pharmacology. I took a unique but pre-planned turn in my education choices and sought my Doctorate degree in psychology. I had turned in my thesis paper eight days before. I had taken a mini-vacation in my dorm room: sleeping, eating and drinking, after turning in my Doctoral Thesis.
I had six weeks until the semester ended and I was preparing to line up possible positions in trauma psychology at large hospitals inside the United States. My goal was to integrate pet and animal therapy into severe psychological trauma cases. I had been told that my thesis would be approved, thus granting me my Doctorate, or disapproved within the next three weeks. My Doctorial Professor had told me, based on our two conversations about it, that he would almost certainly approve my thesis, and he had asked me to put my effort into “the paper” instead of meeting with him. He did express a keen interest in it though. He left me with the feeling that the Doctorate was a “slam dunk.”
There was a knock at my dormitory room door. I got up to answer the door. A sort of pale white complexioned blond haired man in his early thirties appeared at the door. He held up credentials with a card that had his photograph on it. He said in a low terse voice “let me in quick and close the door.” I stood aside quickly, and when he took two quick steps into the room; I quickly closed the door without slamming it shut.
I had reacted without thinking. I asked the man “is there a prob-”
“Margin Lesly Secret Service. You’re Harvin Reil right?”
I simply said “yes.”
He walked over to my leisure chair, and he sat on the chair arm. “I’m here to discuss your thesis paper. It was shown to me by your Thesis Professor when he had reached the end of the first part of the three part discourse. I am here at N.C. State protecting government official’s relatives. I showed the paper to some-one in high office. He wants to know how sure you are that ‘it’ could really happen. How sure are you?”
I had thought about that a lot. “It’s probably going to happen, and it’s our cleanest and best shot at real true progress! The people that control this could be ’far and above’ the leaders in progress for the next century.”
I watched his face show mixed emotions that ended with a smile. He said “right then. I believe you, and not only that; I think you’re right. Your Professor thinks you’re right and the government official that sent me thinks you’re right. That’s four of us against zero; that think you have something valid and new.”
I knew what I had written could cause a stir, but I didn’t know how long it would take to prove me right: five years, ten years, or maybe twenty.
Agent Lesly looked me in the eyes, I noticed, and said “you have a big decision to make. Do you want to sell your ideas to a big corporation, it would certainly mean at least billions for you, or help your country establish a strong position which benefits mankind. I was told not to sway you, and for me to give you all the time you need to decide.”
I was rocked. Everyone wants to be a billionaire. I could have the monetary freedom to do whatever work I liked. A thought came to me from the past. My High School sophomore Biology teacher was stressing the defining moments of some of our legends in research and medicine. I looked at Margin’s face and got no answer. I realized fully that I might be in the middle of a defining moment having to do with my character and foresight. I said “it boils down to saving lives and an intervening moral body to control outrages, that could occur, caused by a hefty profit opportunity. I don’t need the money bad enough to roll the dice on mankind’s future! I’ll forfeit my ownership of my ideas to the appropriate governmental body.”
Agent Lesly looked as impressed as I had rarely seen in my life. It made me feel good from my head to my toes. He was, I could tell, a man that was hard to impress.
He recovered “I’m going to ask you to sign to sign a contract deeding your paper over to the government. I don’t want you to read it. I’ll witness it. The less you know about where and who has the ‘paper’ the better!”
I signed and Margin witnessed the contract.
Something occurred to me “I think you’re the real deal, but I need some assurances that my thesis is really going to the government; The American Government.”
Agent Lesly smiled a carnivorous smile and he said “that’s just ‘the direction we’re heading in:’ shower, shave, and dress in a suit!”
We took a small jet; which Agent Lesly flew. It had been just the two of us. At about half until midnight we waited in the lobby of the Vice President of these United States’ office. On the way Agent Lesly had told me we were going to meet with the Vice President.
We were the only ones in his lobby. There were Secret Service agents all around outside the lobby and the Vice Presidents’ office, but we were effectively going to be alone with the Vice President; Agent Lesly had told me the last part of that.
Agent Lesly took a call. I heard “yes sir” twice on his end of the call. I heard a click where the office door was located. Agent Lesly said “follow me” and he led the way.
There I sat with a cold imported beer in my hand. Agent Lesly had a cold can of soda. The Vice President sat as his desk with three quarters of a bottle of Bushmills red in front of him. He had two fingers of it, straight, in a glass that was also in front of him.
“Mr. Reil I’m a little surprised that you didn’t linger over the potential for that much money.” The contract, folded in half, was also lying on his desk in front of him. “You’re the last, the youngest, of three sons. You’re middle brother is a brand new Lieutenant Colonel with the Airborne Rangers. You’re oldest brother is a meat wholesaler with strong ties to the Catholic Church. He’s also active in employing veterans. Your father is a retired Naval Captain. Are you trying to impress them? Make a grand sacrifice?”
I was impressed at being in the Vice Presidents’ office. His accusations hurt. I thought, at first, he was going to thank me. I answered honestly. “I had a Biology teacher in High School who spoke quite often about defining moments in history determined by a person’s character. I thought this was one of them. Those kind of moments, he said, are what we were preparing for in High School. He said it needed to be considered when we were young, because we needed to recognize those moments when they come to us or some-one we know.”
Margin grinned. The Vice President shook his head as though he had been taken off guard. He mumbled to Agent Lesly “make sure I get that teachers’ name.” Agent Lesly grinned wolfishly.
The Vice President took a sip of whiskey from his glass. “I read your ‘paper’ in full. After your professor read the first section he showed it to Margin. Margin is my right hand man who was at N.C. State getting my daughter settled in for her freshman year. With your professors’ permission we pulled the paper. He didn’t even finish it. Margin and I both read it. It’s damn good! What I would like you to do is brief me on it like I’m a freshman in college. I want to be sure about this before I commit resources.”
I knew, because the press made a big deal of it, the Vice President had a M.S. in math and he had passed the C.P.A. exam, but I kept it as simple as possible.
“We all hear- ‘do the best you can;’ and ‘endowed with intelligence or wisdom.’ I wondered if, perhaps, we could improve ourselves; naturally, while not breaking what Mother Nature gave us genetically. I decided that a hit and miss method that kept our bodily systems’ natural protocols, or balance, in check and not overly strained was the best testing method.”
“I decided we could use previous and new testing to find drugs, erbs, and/or extracts that increase true wisdom: or judgment to state that more practically. Soft trials: drugs, etc. that have little or no harmful effect on the body, and can be tested through written or physical tests that are relatively easy to measure. Eventually we will come up with a drug, and, if we are lucky, several different drugs that can create a super compound that increases judgmental type abilities. The wonderful thing about substances that increase judgment is that there would be a collateral increase in intelligence, lesser, but probably very significant.”
The source of our increase in judgment kinds of abilities must be something akin to things that are normally found in our body; for the sake of natural biological balance. It would, thus, work with our genetics instead of an attempt to change it. We would have to test for the permanence of change, and look for those commonalities that might drain us of the positive effects of our soft trials or trial benefits. We are at a juncture in our own physiology to increase humanities wellbeing by research based on our intake of the trials resulting agents to further our good judgment. We can test for permanence with various neurological scans. The body will respond to change. Our record and measure of change will be the map of the human body.”
The Vice President took two full sips of his whiskey: “Could you make this happen, with full funding, while keeping it the three of ours’ secret? You’re the best we have. I’ve seen your grades and I.Q. tests. Can you devise methods for results blind to everyone but you? Those are the two most important questions I have for you tonight.”
