Hybrid - Forced Vengeance (21 page)

“The baby will be studied.”

Phelps understood. ‘Studying’ would consist of several invasive tests and tissue extractions that were less than humane in nature. The hybrid child would become the property of the military, with no protected rights or freedom. The child would grow up a captive lab rat at the mercy of scientists and doctors who only cared about what secrets they could unlock – and not about the child’s well being.

He whispered to the doctor to avoid detection from the microphones. “And Shanda Knight will simply fall off the face the Earth, this time to truly become one of the deceased.” Phelps sighed heavily. “What kind of people are we that we can simply condone this? How can we do nothing while this vile crap plays itself out before us?”

“Do you think this is what I want for my patient?” Allison whispered back. “I know what Ross has in store for her and for the child. I don’t want to see that come to pass, nor do any of the other doctors on this team. This is butchery, but who can we complain to? If we leaked anything we’d wind up in the deepest hole out in the middle of nowhere. My life is far from perfect, but I’d kind of like to live it out.”

Phelps smiled briefly, recalling those very words. Exactly what he’d said to Gray a few days earlier. “I can relate to that.”

SPACE, BETWEEN THE EARTH AND MOON

Sentinel’s reactors built up a full charge while its tracking computers continuously made micro adjustments to the satellite’s emitter node. The unidentified object was closing rapidly toward Earth and at its current rate of velocity would disintegrate into ash if it entered the atmosphere – or bounce off the atmospheric layer if it came in too shallow. Sentinel’s other programmed objective was to cripple the incoming craft for capture and study.

The alien target came to within 4000 kilometers, and Sentinel’s particle beam-emitter fully extended from its housing while continually tracking the fast moving object. Sentinel fired a half second burn of its starboard thruster to keep the satellite locked into its current firing position. Command prompts from the ground base were continually fed and processed through the satellite’s computer core while megabytes of tracking and positioning data were transmitted back to Earth’s computers.

The alien object performed a drastic velocity dump as it closed to within 3000 kilometers of Earth. It took the battle satellite two full seconds to recalibrate and compensate for the enemy craft’s unpredicted maneuver.

The alien craft continued to close the distance to Earth while Sentinel remained at the ready, for the moment when its computers would unleash a firestorm of plasma and hard radiation at the unsuspecting intruder. As the craft closed to within 2500 kilometers, the egg-shaped protrusion detached from its moorings and launched itself toward Earth.

Sentinel allocated a small amount of computer resources to track and report the unsuspected occurrence to ground control. The larger alien vessel slowed further and began to turn away, outside of the battle satellite’s programmed firing range.

“Fire on target,” Ross ordered.

Sentinel received new command prompts from the ground computers, overriding previous instructions. The weapon discharged a long lethal burst of compressed radiation and energy toward the alien craft.

For four seconds a fine red beam joined the alien invader and the human defender. Sentinel recorded a secondary detonation engulfing a section of the alien craft. It reported back to Earth’s command computer: The vessel had been damaged.

Ross and the crew on deck cheered as the alien craft limped away from Earth orbit – but on an erratic course – trailing a steady stream of green plasma.

The alien ship then did the unthinkable; it turned back toward Earth, the nose of the craft glowing a hideous chartreuse. The vessel turned in the direction of the battle satellite and returned fire with a green blob of energy that raced from the nose of the crippled ship toward the satellite. The energy sphere grew and expanded in size with each additional kilometer it traveled.

New coordinates were sent to Sentinel and its rocket boosters fired, but the edge of the expanding plasma ball collided with the fleeing satellite, causing the craft to tumble erratically out of its prescribed orbit.

Ground control stabilized the platform before it burned in re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere. Sentinel exhausted most of its fuel supply climbing back into space in order to re-establish enough orbital velocity and altitude to escape the gravitational pull of the Earth. As the battle satellite achieved orbital status, its weapons’ computer locked upon the crippled intruder. The alien ship had turned and was once again heading back toward deep space when Sentinel fired another searing particle beam toward the fleeing intruder.

Almost 5000 kilometers now separated the two warring vessels and by the time the beam impacted the ship it was barely a third of its fired potency. The alien ship still buckled as the diminished beam managed to burn its way through the silvery surface skin and into the inner mechanisms of the craft.

The alien vessel no longer had any forward velocity; it limped through space slowly rotating off its parallel axis. Only momentum kept the ship moving on its course. Sentinel’s long range cameras were still able to get a fix on the craft and feed video and analytical data to ground control.

The distance between the two objects increased as Sentinel’s new orbit carried it further and further away from the crippled alien ship. Sentinel’s aft camera package detected another growth protruding from the hole in the alien hull. A cylindrical shape glowed red then orange then yellow and finally a blazing white.

The burning white cylinder leapt from the craft and sped toward the Earth’s satellite. Sentinel was doomed. It had exhausted the last of its fuel to stay in orbit. The platform’s camera recorded and transmitted the image of the approaching torpedo as it quickly closed the distance separating the two warring craft. The blazing torpedo struck Sentinel, and vaporized it in one massive explosion.

Groom Lake: Sentinel Control Center.

The duty personnel at the command center watched helplessly as the blazing white torpedo raced toward their multimillion-dollar weapon.

Colonel Ross knew that the craft was doomed, and watched in silence along with the rest of the technicians as the video signal went white for an instant and then ceased.

“Can lunar tracking get a fix on that alien craft?” he asked in a deceivingly calm voice.

“Yes, sir,” a technician replied.

“As soon as that thing comes within range of the moon base I want it nuked. Blast it into space dust.” Ross swung around in his chair and faced a giant control board that had been behind him. “Do we have telemetry locked on the object launched from the alien ship?” he asked the officer on deck.

“Yes, sir. The egg-shaped object passed over China and is heading toward the North American continent. It should pass over the California coast within the next ten minutes. The object altitude is now 100,000 feet.

The officer on deck accepted a new printout from an underling. His voice changed to an urgent whisper. “Sir? The object is using atmospheric friction to decelerate. At its current rate of deceleration this thing is going to land right on top of us.”

“Is it a bomb?” Ross’s voice betrayed his alarm.

“Unknown, sir,” the officer replied.

Ross quickly spewed out directions to protect the compound. “Get three security teams on full alert. I want them deployed the instant this thing hits the ground. We have six M-1 tanks in Hangar Eight. Two have already been retrofitted with EMP shock cannons. I want them ready for action if things get ugly. Have another M-1 loaded with the new armor piercing rounds to serve as back up. I don’t want to take any chances with this thing.”

* * * *

Special Agent Erik Knight muttered curses while he struggled to properly adjust the light blue cummerbund over his sentient staff concealed in a black satchel strapped to his waist. “This damn tuxedo is more like a straitjacket than formal wear.”

He then ensured the safety was in place on the carbon 9 mm and tucked it into the sleek holster that he strapped on the back of his formal dress slacks. He sighed with impatience and slipped on the vest holster that contained both of his combat pistols and their spare ammunition clips. Erik looked at himself in the full-length mirror, noting the paradox of formal wear and combat gear. Getting ready had been an exercise in patience.

This social event was going to be a high stress evening for all the security teams involved. Sarina Fahaad had arrived early in the morning with six fierce looking men; she was serious about her organization proving its good intentions. Erik, Paul and René had spent the early morning hours getting acquainted with the security men and reviewing every nook and cranny of the reception hall.

Erik was impressed by Sarina’s picks. They had pointed out several alternative methods of security and possible attack points that he hadn’t previously considered. While it was difficult for Erik to consider these men allies, they acted the part perfectly, and he detected no ulterior motives in them. They were genuinely here to protect the life of Monique LaSalle.

As the Arabs pointed out, the threat could come from virtually anywhere. The open-air design of the reception facility was the worst place to hold such a function.

Erik was glad to have the extra bodies as they were still seriously undermanned. The local police and government security would be present in droves, but their sole purpose would be crowd control, in and outside the building. They would be of little practical use in detecting the more subtle threat of trained assassins.

Erik was to remain at Monique’s side. Something still plagued his mind, a sense of danger he couldn’t place. He did his best to bury those feelings and focus on the objective at hand. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything tonight. He entered the main hall and met with the nine men and one woman, who compromised what Jean Paul termed the ‘Threat Squad.’

At this point the French specialists took over. René gave each of his men explicit instructions, changing his tone to one of polite request and thanks when it came to addressing the Arabs. René clearly understood the diplomatic nuances at play. Monique LaSalle was in good hands.

* * * *

Jean-Luc and Paul distributed the communications equipment, and the guards went to their posts. René handed Erik a tiny headset. “Good Luck, Erik. I pray for all of our sakes that this afternoon goes smoothly.” He leaned over. “Between you and me, I have a gut feeling something will happen today. This is too good an opportunity for our opponents to pass up. I only hope that we can catch the rats before they do any real harm. It would be nice to gather some intelligence on our mysterious adversaries.”

Erik placed the tiny receiver in his ear. “Indeed it would. Let’s keep ourselves sharp.”

René gave him a hard look; “The child is like a daughter to me. I have known her since she was five years old.” René took a deep breath. “I would gladly take a hit for her.”

“Understood.” Erik knew what the French operative expected of him.

René extended his hand. “Good Luck, Knight. I must go over last minute details with the caterer.”

Clasping the outstretched hand, Erik added, “And to you. I will check on Miss LaSalle.”

* * * *

Erik conducted a quick equipment test with the others and then went to the main living quarters. Monique was busy with two close friends, putting the finishing touches on her gown while the president and first lady fawned over their daughter. This was the first time Erik saw President LaSalle’s wife since he’d arrived.

“Erik, how do I look?” Monique twirled to show off her elaborate gown.

“You look absolutely radiant, Monique.”

“And you look quite handsome in a black tuxedo.” She took him by the arm. “Come, I have some friends I want you to meet.”

Monique walked him over to meet her two friends.

The two girls blushed as they approached.

“Marcy, Katrina, this is my date for the evening, Mr. Erik Knight. He is quite the hunk, is he not?”

The girls giggled and replied in French. Erik knew they were talking about him, but he had no idea what was being said. He hoped it was good, whatever it was.

Monique blushed and replied to her friends’ comments in her native tongue, then released him to finish her preparations.

“They think you’re a hunk. I told them earlier that you saved my life twice so far; they’ve been dying to meet you.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “It’s nice to know that I still have appeal with the younger generation.”

“More than you know, Erik.” She fell in close to him. “Papa said that you will be my shadow tonight. I must admit that I feel somewhat better having you by my side.”

“Don’t worry; we’ve got good people placed in key spots all over the great hall, plus dozens of police along with government security. I’m confident that everything will run smoothly.”

Deep down in his gut his Esper sense buzzed a warning. There was a threat out there, somewhere, and Monique was going to be exposed to it. All he could do was to keep the young woman at his side all night and intercept any force or threat directed at her. Fortunately, for him, a bullet wouldn’t cause him any permanent damage. If he were in Esper mode a bullet wouldn’t bother him at all. However, a seven-foot, silver-skinned escort would not mix well at this formal affair, though the reactions he would generate would be interesting.

Erik spent the next hour in the back room with Monique, her friends and the ‘first family.’ He still monitored the communications traffic among the security team. Guests were arriving and awaited the formal introduction of the president’s family. Monique was still rehearsing her speech while Jean-Paul fretted over every minute detail.

“We’re going to be formally introduced in two minutes,” Jean-Paul announced above the din. “Mr. President, you and your wife will come out first and walk directly over to the podium. After your speech, you will formally introduce your daughter.”

He switched his attention to young Miss LaSalle. “You will then be escorted out on the arm of Mr. Knight, immediately followed by your two companions. The master of ceremonies will take over and introduce Mr. Knight and the young ladies as their group approaches.