Undisclosed, page 38
Captain Marulli and his wife remained with their guests until 5:00 p.m. when they excused themselves to adjourn to their private carriage home set along the waters of the Chesapeake River.
Entering the cottage, they made their way down the spiral stairwell into the wine cellar, where the other twenty-two members of their war Council had already assembled. They had arrived from all over the world to mourn the loss of their colleagues’ daughter and to initiate an event that would send ripples around the world.
Each man and woman held a silver goblet filled with Chateau Mouton-Rothschild 1945. Captain Marulli had paid $310,000 for a double magnum of the wine ten years earlier, intending on opening it on a special occasion. Regarded as one of the greatest red wines of the previous century, the 1945 vintage was purposely chosen, for its date marked the year two atomic bombs had been detonated over Hiroshima and Nagasaki—an event which had sent its own ripples across the galaxy.
Al Marulli raised his goblet, his companions following suit. “To all the innocent lives stolen … and to our precious child, Jessica, whose courage led to the birth of this new day.”
“To Jessica …”
Seated before her laptop, Lydia Gagnon pressed enter on her keyboard. The command initiated the download of the three zero-point-energy generator schematics to alternative energy websites around the world, along with information on how they could withdraw start-up capital from the $100 billion donated under the name J.M. ENERGY, LLC.
“Barbara Jean, where’s Dr. Greer?”
“Upstairs in one of the guest rooms, meditating. I was told the message has been sent.”
“Lydia, contact the admiral.”
U.S. Naval Station
Admiral Mark Hintzman, Commander-in-Chief of U.S. Fleet Forces, stood out on the balcony of Conference Room-A, watching the real-time images of the moon displayed on the theater’s main screen.
Expecting the call, he answered his iPhone on the first ring.
“Stand-by, Lydia. We’re getting some activity … there!”
Three bright sparks ignited from the moon’s dark side—three salvos streaking toward targets in orbit around the Earth.
Within seconds, the scalar strikes destroyed the three Zeus satellites, atomizing each four-ton object into tiny particles.
“You’re good to go, Lydia. The road has been paved.”
* * *
“The admiral says we’re good to go.”
Al Marulli nodded to his wife, who ascended the spiral stairwell. Exiting the cottage, she found Adam at one of the docks overlooking the Chesapeake. With him, sharing a bench as they watched the river, was a dark-haired woman and her fifteen-year-old son.
Adam turned as his fiancée’s mother joined them. “Barbara Jean Marulli, this is Dr. Joyce LaCombe and her son, Logan. It was Captain LaCombe who saved my life.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Yours, too.” Joyce motioned to the teen. “Logan taught Jessica how to use a hoverboard.”
“She was really good.”
“Well Logan, thanks to your dad and my little girl, maybe the rest of the world will finally get to experience anti-gravitics.” Barbara Jean turned to Adam. “The road is paved. Are you ready?”
Reaching beneath the bench, he pulled out a brown paper bag and removed the ARV helmet. Placing it on, he stared at the serene surface waters until they began to percolate—
—displacing the 50-foot-in-diameter, fifteen-ton vessel which rose from the river, having just reentered the physical dimension.
Barbara Jean gave Adam a hug and then pinched his earlobe, giving him a stern look. “Finish this.”
“Just give me the ball, coach.”
Adam commanded the hatch to open. Then he allowed himself to be inhaled by the zero-gravity vortex.
A moment later the vessel was gone.
Dulce, New Mexico
“Strategic Command is on full alert! All personnel are ordered to evacuate through the canyon exits. Marine and Delta Force security are ordered to stand down. I repeat, Strategic Command is on full alert. All personnel are ordered to evacuate through the canyon exits—”
* * *
The ARV hovered a thousand feet above Dulce mountain. Inside the craft, Adam took a moment to survey the damaged complex now appearing on his main viewing screen. The scalar blast had vented the subterranean launch site to the surface, along with the seventeen remaining Atlas-V rockets, each vehicle harboring a Zeus satellite.
The second scalar wave sent them tumbling over sideways and igniting.
Wasting no time, Adam engaged the Delta configuration, slipping the vessel beyond the crossing point of light and back into transdimensional space—
—directing it through twenty stories of solid concrete and steel until the craft reemerged in a massive underground runway filled with man-made extraterrestrial vehicles.
Destroy all of them.
* * *
Colonel Alexander Johnston was livid beyond reason. General Cubit had lied about Chris Mull and now he had the evidence to prove it, his psychotronic equipment confirming it was Shariak, and not Johnston’s counter-intelligence officer, who had been operating the ARV.
It was obvious that Cubit was staging a coup, but the colonel knew he could beat it back into submission by alerting key leaders in Europe and Australia. All he had to do was get from Dulce to the Dugway Proving Grounds—a seven minute Maglev train ride. Then he’d enact his revenge.
I think I’ll begin by ripping Cubit’s soul from his body …
Bypassing the elevators, the colonel descended the stairwell to Level-9. Texting his assistant, Scott Muse, he ordered a private Maglev car sent immediately to Dulce.
The colonel emerged from the stairwell, winded but in good spirits. The platform looked deserted—
—and then he saw the bodies.
They were hanging from nooses tied to the lampposts—each man having been a member of the cabal for more than forty years. Johnston paused to gaze up at the nearest corpse, the thanatologist in him observing the angle of the cord cutting into the dead men’s Adam’s apples, making strangulation the cause of death opposed to the more traditional and expert snapping of the victim’s neck.
He exhibited no reaction as his blue-gray eyes fell upon the face of the last body.
Seated on a bench beneath the dangling corpse of the colonel’s wife was General Cubit. “We had thought about burning her at the stake, but everything was so last minute. Pretty sick … using your wife to rub combustion crème on Jessica’s arm. You two made some pair. No worries, Dr. Death, I’m sure she’ll be waiting for you when you arrive in hell.”
Six Delta Force commandos stepped out of the shadows. Aiming their M-16s, they let loose a lead rope which severed Colonel Alexander Johnston’s twisting torso in half.
* * *
The ARV shot straight up through the atmosphere into space, then executed a ninety degree turn to the east.
Having removed the threat of Zeus on the Interstellars, and having impeded the chances of an alien false flag event, there was one last thing for Adam Shariak to do.
“Bob Costas here. If you’re just joining us, Game One of the National League Playoffs between the Cubs and the Nationals has been a real pitcher’s duel, with neither team able to advance a runner past second.
“And now, as advertised, joining us for tonight’s seventh inning stretch to lead the crowd in a special rendition of ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game’ will be Lady Gaga.”
The singer/songwriter made her way to home plate wearing a National’s jersey, the partisan crowd rising to give her a standing ovation.
“Hey, D.C.! I’m gonna need some help here, so I want everybody to sing along. Are you ready? Here we go …
“Take me out to the ball game … take me out with the crowd—”
Suzanne Tomas was looking up when she saw the object drop straight out of the sky to hover five hundred feet above second base. “That is so cool. Is that going to be in all of Gaga’s shows?”
“Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack … I don’t care if I never get back—”
Arie Forma videotaped the object as it circled around the inside of the stadium, the hair on his arms standing on end as it passed overhead. “That’s not a real UFO, Ellie!”
“No kidding,” his older sister shot back as she refocused her iPhone on the immense saucer-shaped craft.
“Let me root, root, root for the Na-tion-als … if they don’t win it’s a shame—”
Lady Gaga waved at the ARV as it hovered ten feet above the pitcher’s mound.
“For it’s one… two … three strikes, you’re out at the old ball game.”
“Bob, that’s one helluva special effect.”
“Looks like a hatch is opening … maybe there’s little green men inside.”
Adam dropped out of the ARV onto the pitcher’s mound, dazzled by the bright lights and sparkling flashes. Three cameramen followed him as he hobbled to home plate, unsure if the moment was really happening or if this was just a lucid dream.
Was that Lady Gaga coming out to greet him with a microphone?
“Hi! What’s your name, and where can I buy one of these?”
“My name? My name is Adam Shariak—”
The crowd quieted as his face appeared on the ballpark’s massive video screen.
“Up until last week, I was the Under Secretary of Defense. The anti-gravitics machine you see before you is man-made … it can travel across our galaxy in mere minutes. It was built in secrecy by the covert government I was investigating. Trillions of your tax dollars have been spent on these Unacknowledged Special Access Projects over the years. Much of this incredible technology originated from friendly extraterrestrials whose craft the military have been shooting down and reverse-engineering since 1947.”
Adam paused as the crowd reacted.
“That’s right …UFOs are real and the species visiting us are friendly. This Alien Reproduction Vehicle, or ARV, is powered by zero-point-energy … a clean, abundant and free energy source that would have eliminated hunger, poverty, disease, and fossil fuels fifty years ago, only the bastards acting illegally as its self-appointed gatekeepers refused to allow the technology to be shared by the rest of the world.”
A cascade of boos erupted.
Adam raised his hand for quiet. “All that changes tonight. As we speak, the schematics for three zero-point-energy generators are being emailed to some of the most advanced green energy companies in the world, along with the means to apply for $100 billion in grant monies.”
Cheers erupted from the crowd—so loud that Adam couldn’t think.
“The price …” he signaled again for quiet, “the price for this gift is very high. Many people—many scientists—were murdered to keep zero-point-energy a secret … including Dr. Jessica Marulli, my fiancée”—he choked out the words “—and our unborn child.”
A hush fell over the crowd as the string of recent news stories fell into place.
And that was it … Adam had nothing more to say … nothing more to do. Surrounded by forty thousand people, he felt completely alone, his life spent. He had no desire to re-enter the ARV … he just wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere and die.
It was at the moment that the mothership which had appeared at the Greer’s home dropped from out of transdimensional space to hover over the stadium … the triangular-shaped vessel so immense it blotted out the night sky.
The video screen powered off.
The stadium lights shut down.
And then, in the midst of this uncharted moment in human history, a message of light appeared on the scoreboard:
There is no future in war and hatred.
There are no boundaries in peace.774
“In the councils of Government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the Military Industrial Complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists, and will persist. We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals so that security and liberty may prosper together.”
“There exists a shadowy Government with its own Air Force, its own Navy, its own fundraising mechanism, and the ability to pursue its own ideas of the national interest, free from all checks and balances, and free from the law itself.”
—Senator Daniel K. Inouye
August 11, 2007
“Every great change is preceded by chaos.”
Ocean City, New Jersey
April 23, 2033
THE UNLIT FIVE-MILE STRETCH of public beach had been zoned from nine p.m. through three a.m. as a CE-5 area. Groups of twenty or more could reserve a designated locale on the city’s webpage, while individuals seeking to join a larger circle could sign up.
Michael Sutterfield’s seventh grade class was on their third night of a six-day field trip. The first two sessions had been uneventful and the teen was beginning to fear that his “condition” was blocking communication with the Interstellars.
Dr. Mallouh had attempted to reassure him that his presence had no bearing on the lack of extraterrestrial activity.
“Over the last decade we’ve learned that Earth is a complex self-regulating system which seeks a physical and chemical environment optimal for advanced life forms to evolve. Many processes necessary for the conditions of life—from microorganisms to the salinity of the planet’s oceans—adapt as they interact with each other, in essence moving life along the path it was intended to follow.
“Like all of us, Michael, you are one of these organisms; the question is whether you can adapt to function within a system that has finally self-regulated to continue humanity’s intended evolution.”
“Which is what?”
“I’m a sociopath, Dr. Mallouh; you diagnosed me so yourself. I’m incapable of fitting in.”
“Not true. Being aware of the limitations imposed by a condition can sometimes be enough to prevent one from stepping off that slippery slope. Besides, unity is not dependent on loving your fellow man; just as important is accepting their right to exist. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are not just words, they’re a birth right. For seventy years a segment of our population remained convinced that the only way they could maintain their way of life was to deny it to the rest of us. These selfish acts nearly led to our own extinction because they ran counter to our very nature—our nature being the essence of the Creator, which is to share.”
“What made you change your mind about allowing me to participate in the CE-5 field trip?”
“We’re hoping your desire to communicate with the Interstellars exceeds your lack of restraint. Remember, every living organism possesses a spark of the Creator which unifies and connects all of us to every living organism in existence.”
* * *
Connection? Who was Mallouh kidding?
Seated in a circle beneath the stars with his classmates, Michael Sutterfield knew he was different … knew he didn’t belong.
He waited for the group meditation to begin, then he left the circle.
* * *
The radar and electro-magnetometer sounded simultaneously. A moment later an amber-orange light appeared over the water, the object as large as the moon.
“Boys and girls, we have a major event. Everyone please stay seated.”
“What is it, Dr. Mallouh?”
“It’s a large ETV … an Extraterrestrial Vehicle. They emer
“Look … there’s another one!”
A second identical object appeared next to the first, the ETVs poised on the horizon like a fiery pair of eyes.
“I’m looking through the night scope, they are definitely not flares.”
“Connect to them with your consciousness and welcome them. Open your heart chakra and send them the beauty of humanity. Thank them for coming.”
Dr. Mallouh looked for Michael, only to realize the teen was missing from the group. Using his night vision glasses, he searched the beach, locating a lone figure standing by a dune.
Leaving the group, the principal headed for the rise.
“Michael? Are you okay, son?”
“They’re so … beautiful.”
“They are, aren’t they? Dr. Greer says it’s a color you never forget.”
“I saw it before they appeared … the color. It was in my head … I can’t explain it.”
“You’ve obviously made a connection.”
They watched together as the first object faded into transdimensional space, followed a moment later by the second.
“Come on, we should rejoin the group.”
“If it’s okay, I’d like to stay here a moment.”
“Of course. I’ll be with the group if you need me.”
The guidance counselor smiled, tears in his eyes. “You’re very welcome.”
by Steve Alten / Science Fiction / Horror / Suspense have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes