Robert Doherty - Area 51 - The Mission

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PICTURE OF DEATH . . .

A new image appeared on the computer screen. Two areas were circled in

yellow. One was full of tiny blue spots. The other red ones.

"That's two villages," Kincaid said. "The blue dots are dead bodies. Recently

dead and cold."

"My God," Lisa Duncan exclaimed, "there must be a hundred of them."

"I don't get it," Turcotte said. "Are they connected to the rocket that went

down there?"

"I don't know," Kincaid admitted. "It just seems like too much of a

coincidence. And what's even more bizarre is the other village, where all the

people show up dark red. The shade indicates the average body temperature is

over one hundred one degrees Fahrenheit."

"Everyone in the village is hot?" Turcotte asked.

"Looks like it," Kincaid said.

"What are we looking at?" Duncan asked.

"The end of the world. To be more specific, the death of every human being on

the face of the planet who is not a puppet of the aliens. . . ."

ROBERT DOHERTY

AREA 51

THE MISSION

To my father, George Mayer, for helping make a dream come true

PROLOGUE

----------

A golden tendril was stretched out from the guardian computer under the surface

of Mars and wrapped around the head of the Airlia who had awakened the first

echelon and sent them off in their talon ships toward Earth.

The guardian informed her of the destruction of the fleet and the death of her

comrades. The pupils in her red eyes narrowed as she processed this information.

She twitched as the guardian picked up a small anomaly near Mars. She had the

surface sensors focus on it. Something was coming toward her location, less than

thirty seconds out. There was no electromagnetic reading and she almost ignored

it, but she paused. She was the only one left awake. She could afford to take no

chances. She mentally gave the commands.

In the center of the solar field array a bolt of pure energy shot upward. It

hit the incoming Surveyor probe dead-on.

The Airlia saw the nuclear explosion take place three miles above her

location. It had been close but not close enough.

The Airlia began giving commands. She would wake the others. Then there was

much to do.

The first battle had been lost, but the war was far from over.

-1-

----------

Lisa Duncan adjusted the focus on the telescope. "There's the mothership. You

can see it against the moon as it goes by."

Duncan was short, barely over five feet, and slender. Her dark hair was cut

short, framing a thin face, etched with worry lines and stress. She had a glass

of white wine in her hand, and gestured toward the scope, inviting the other

person on the deck to take a look.

She wore khaki pants and shirt under a brown leather flight jacket that was

worn and faded. The jacket was necessary, as a cool breeze was blowing down from

the Rocky Mountains and the telescope was on a deck that wrapped around her

house, precariously perched on the side of a steep mountain. The faint strains

of jazz floated out of the open door onto the deck. A fire blazed in the large

stone fireplace inside, the smoke curling out of the chimney above their heads.

The house, 7,000 feet up, overlooked the Great Plains to the east. The lights

of the city of Boulder twinkled 2,000 feet below. The glow from Denver was

farther away and to the right. The nearest neighbor was over two miles away up

the packed dirt road that was the only way to get to the house.

The Rockies stretched north and south, the continental divide to the west. It

had taken them over two hours

to drive the rental car from Denver International to here, the last forty

minutes from Boulder on a precarious narrow road that had degraded from paved to

gravel to dirt the closer they got to the house.

Mike Turcotte put his chilled mug full of beer on the railing and took

Duncan's place at the scope. He bent over, placing his eye on the rubber

eyepiece. He was a solidly built man, of average height, about five-ten, with

broad shoulders. His skin was dark, a legacy of his half-Canuck, half-Indian

background. His black hair was peppered with gray and cut tight against his

skull. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt with a gold Special Forces crest

emblazoned on the left chest. He didn't seem to notice the cool breeze.

"That thing survived a nuclear blast," he marveled, seeing the mile-long alien

ship through the scope as a sliver of black against the bright full moon.

"It was designed to cross interstellar distances using a drive system we don't

have a clue about," Duncan said. "Remember, Majestic-12 couldn't cut through

that skin for over fifty years when they had it at Area 51."

Turcotte straightened. "Is it in a stable orbit?"

Duncan laughed. "Worried it'll land on your head?"

"On somebody's head."

"It won't be coming down anytime soon. Larry Kincaid from the Jet Propulsion

Lab says it's in a high orbit that doesn't seem to be decaying. The ship is

tumbling very slowly. There is the gash the explosion put in the side, but

considering the power that was expended, it's not much damage. Close-ups reveal

the ship's skin is torn, but the framework seems intact. One of the talons is

nearby, also tumbling."

He remembered that sixth alien spaceship chasing him, firing, just before the

nukes went off. It had sur-

vived the blast intact, but the ship had gone dead—just in time before it blew

his bouncer out of the sky.

"What about the other five talons?" Turcotte asked.

"No sign. Kincaid says they were probably caught inside the cargo hold in the

explosion." Duncan leaned against the railing. "UNAOC wants to check it all

out."

"Check it all out?" Turcotte repeated.

"Send astronauts up on shuttles and rendezvous with both the mothership and

talon."

"Take Area 51 into space, in other words," Turcotte said.

Duncan frowned. "That's an odd way of putting it. This is the United Nations

Alien Oversight Committee we're talking about, not Majestic-12."

Turcotte considered her in the dark. "Do you trust UNAOC?"

For a while the only sound was the wind through the pine trees on the

hillside. Finally Duncan answered. "No, I don't. There's another problem."

"Problem?"

"With UNAOC," Duncan said. "The dig into the wreckage of Majestic's biolab at

Dulce, New Mexico— to find what was on the lowest level and to try to find the

guardian computer that was there—has been stopped."

Turcotte wasn't overly surprised at that piece of information. "Why?"

"I didn't get a reason, because I wasn't officially notified. I only found out

through a source of mine in Washington. I would assume that the U.S. is

pressuring UNAOC to stop. The disclosures at Area 51 were bad enough. I think

whatever was going on in Dulce would be worse."

"From what I saw when I broke in there," Turcotte said, "they were doing

illegal biological testing." "They

took the Nazi scientists who worked the death camps and put them in Dulce and

gave them the green light to continue their work. I'm not sure / want to know

exactly what they were doing there." He shrugged. "Let's hope U.S. pressure is

the reason."

Duncan pulled up the collar on her leather jacket. "What do you mean?"

"Dulce—and Area 51—were under the control of Majestic-12. Majestic—at the end—

was under the control of the guardian computer from Temiltepec that was working

for the Airlia group under Aspasia's control. If you follow the trail, maybe

there's still that same faction that doesn't want what was being done in Dulce

to be discovered."

"Majestic was broken up and the Temiltepec guardian buried when Dulce was

destroyed," Duncan said. "Aspasia was destroyed by you."

"Majestic was only the American group that was under control of the

guardian," Turcotte said. "I'll bet you my next paycheck there are other groups

in other countries under the mind control of a guardian. Temiltepec wasn't the

only guardian left behind by the aliens. We did find one in China, don't

forget."

"Long buried," Duncan said. "And that one was Artad's guardian, not

Aspasia's."

"True. But it would also be naive to assume there aren't more guardians out

there we don't know about. Don't forget, the Easter Island one is still active.

It would also be foolish to think that by stopping Aspasia's fleet we totally

defeated the Airlia.

"And remember, it was a foo fighter that took out Dulce, which makes me think

someone was trying to cover something up. And maybe whatever was supposed to be

covered up is still going on somewhere else."

"You think the biotesting at Dulce was moved?"

"Either moved or being done elsewhere. It would make sense to have redundant

facilities. The same is true with the guardians under Aspasia's control."

"Wheels within wheels," Duncan said.

"Hard to know what to believe and who to trust," Turcotte said.

"I trust you."

Turcotte rubbed the stubble of beard on his chin. Duncan came up next to him,

standing close by his side. He regarded her for a moment, taking in her dark

eyes. "Where's your son?" He felt bad for not having asked before, but it had

been one heck of a trip just getting some time off and coming here. He'd noticed

the picture of Lisa and her son on the mantelpiece inside.

"He's been staying with his father since school started. I knew this

assignment was going to consume all my time, and it wouldn't have been fair to

leave him here."

"It would be kind of lonely," Turcotte noted.

"It is, but we enjoy it when we're here together," Duncan said. "When I

taught at the University we would drive to town together."

"You miss him." Turcotte said it as fact, not a question.

Duncan nodded. "They're away now on a camping trip. I'd hoped to be able to

see him, but . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry," Turcotte said.

"Next time in town," Duncan promised, "I'll introduce the two of you. You'll

like Jim."

"I'm sure I will."

"He got his license last year," Duncan said. "I was so scared, letting him

drive these roads. I almost sold the house and moved into town. But then the

presidential

appointment came and, well, I didn't have time and Jim likes it here. He likes

the quiet. I like it too.

"When we're done with all of this"—she pointed at the sky, and Turcotte knew

she meant the mothership— "I want to come back here."

"I'm glad you didn't move," Turcotte said. "It's beautiful."

Duncan was the President's science adviser and primary point of contact for

everything to do with the Airlia. This was the first chance the two of them had

had in weeks to simply stop and be still for a little while. Turcotte knew it

was a temporary respite, but one both of them terribly needed.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, taking in the spectacular view.

The moon was shining down on them. To the west it reflected off the white-

covered peaks.

"There's Longs Peak." Duncan pointed to their left. "A fourteener," she added,

referring to one of the many peaks in Colorado over 14,000 feet.

Turcotte nodded. "I climbed it when I was in Tenth Special Forces."

Duncan laughed. "I should have known." She gestured toward the south. "On a

clear day you can see the top of Pikes Peak, over a hundred miles away."

"I always wanted to retire out here. I don't think you can beat the

mountains," Turcotte said.

That brought another long silence. Turcotte looked up once more at the sky.

Finally he spoke. "Anything from Kelly?"

Duncan sighed, realizing the real world was never far away. "Nothing. The only

change has been that the shield surrounding Easter Island is now opaque.

Overflights, satellite imagery, thermal, infrared, radio waves—nothing can get

through. There's just a big black

half-circle sitting on the ocean now. We don't have a clue what's going on

inside of the shield."

"And Mars? The Airlia base?" Turcotte asked.

"Nothing. We hope the Surveyor nuke took out the guardian there."

Turcotte shook his head. "You've looked at the imagery from Hubble and the

other data like I did. The bomb went off a couple of miles up. There's no

surface damage."

"I was trying to be optimistic. Mars is a long way off." Duncan tried to put

more confidence in her voice than she felt. The talon fleet had powered up after

being left in storage for more than five thousand years and crossed that

distance in less than two days.

They were lost in their own thoughts until Duncan broke the silence.

"Some people think we did the wrong thing."

Turcotte laughed. "That's understating it a bit. I have had a moment or two to

watch the news."

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PICTUREOFDEATH...Anewimageappearedonthecomputerscreen.Twoareaswerecircledi\nyellow.Onewasfulloftinybluespots.Theotherredones."That'stwovillages,"Kincaidsaid."Thebluedotsaredeadbodies.R\ecentlydeadandcold.""MyGod,"LisaDuncanexclaimed,"theremustbeahundredofthem.""Idon'tgetit,"Turcottesaid."Aretheyconn...

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Robert Doherty - Area 51 - The Mission

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