The General

By Paul Hansen

Air Force Chief of Staff General Carter is shocked to hear that the KC-135 jet was positioned for a terrorist strike on the Rose Bowl. Even more incredible is F-16 gun camera footage confirming that before the plane could reach its target, it was forced down by a flying saucer. The General’s search for answers lands him in a deadly power struggle with the malevolent Tony Davis, Director of the National Security Agency, and eventually with the President. When Carter uncovers the truth about the flying saucer and its pilots, former WW II fighter ace Joe Star, and Brian Nelson, he must relinquish his life-long denial of the reality of UFOs. Gone too is his rationale for ridiculing his son Josh’s childhood UFO and ET contact stories, as well as for totally denying his own early encounters. The pace escalates rapidly when Davis, bent on obtaining the saucer and its technology from Carter for his own empire building, orders his secret militia to kidnap Carter’s son Josh from a summer camp in the canyon lands of Utah. When that gambit fails to force Carter to divulge what he knows, Davis decides to have Carter killed. In the race to rescue his son, Carter calls on Joe Star and his saucer to assist him in the final battle with those responsible. The story concludes with a compelling confrontation in the Oval Office.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Hansen
• Release date: Dec 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465983886

Paul Hansen

Paul Hansen came into the faith in the Reformed tradition in his early 20’s. He attended Hope College and Western Theological Seminary as well as Western Michigan University, Kansas State, and the Institute for Worship Studies. He has been in ministry for nearly 40 years serving in various capacities in 7 different congregations currently Artesia First CRC in Calif. He has also taught Christianity and contemporary American Culture and Cross-Cultural Communication at Trinity Christian College.

Book preview

Book II: The Star People Series

A Novel

by

Paul A. Hansen

THE GENERAL

Copyright © 2011 Paul A. Hansen

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

Please visit http://paulhansenauthor.com

Cover design: Kathleen Riley, [e-mail]

Cover Image: by Lucas Keen

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, except for references to the events of 9-11. Any similarities to persons, living or dead are purely coincidental. References to certain places, (cities, locales, etc.), history, aircraft, airbases and other equipment and technology may be authentic, but not personal.

SETTINGS

The locales in or near Blanding, Utah are accurate with a few minor exceptions: Comb Ridge, Arch Canyon, Edge of the Cedars Museum, certain motels and restaurants, and roads & streets exist as described. The pocket canyon where the saucer is hangared is fictitious. On old geo maps, there was an Indian Village site located northwest of Blanding. To enhance your reading experience, fly over the locales on Google Earth. Zoom in with street view for more detail. The FBO office at the Blanding airport was moved from the location described to a new site after the time of this story. The 2nd District office of the District of Columbia Metropolitan Police exists at the location described, but has been fictionalized here, as has its personnel. There is a grass airstrip, viewable on Google Earth, in Virginia near Edinburg.

1

6:30 a.m. Friday, January 4, 2002

Washington, DC

A thick winter fog clung to the hallowed terrain of Arlington National Cemetery and closed its shroud around Air Force Chief of Staff General Jeremy Carter as he ran in the Vietnam section. Now thirty minutes into his run, the gentle hills of Arlington pulled at his 50 year old body more than he wanted to admit. In response, he pumped his lean brown legs harder, his running shoes slapping more rapidly on the wet asphalt, until he shivered in the wind that pierced his sweat soaked T-shirt. Long undulating rows of white stones flickered past him, their alignment alternating between diagonal and straight sight lines in a surreal kaleidoscope, before disappearing into the fog. He’d often wondered where his own stone might someday be placed.

He liked coming here to Arlington. He told his colleagues that it gave him a quiet place to think, but secretly he believed that the spirits of the dead who lay here helped him, or at least inspired him, to work out problems he faced in his job. Like now. What had really happened out in Pasadena on New Year’s Day? He’d been relaxing at home watching football when the call came from General Fortner, commander of Air Combat Command, saying a pilot of a KC-135 flying support for an F-16 training mission out of Nellis had tried to crash his jet tanker with a full load of fuel into the Rose Bowl. The two F-16s he'd been tasked to refuel had been sent to stop him, but someone or something else got there first and prevented the disaster. He didn’t want to even imagine the mayhem of 25,000 gallons of fuel exploding in the Rose Bowl. He really needed the wisdom of his dead Viet Nam buddies now and silently called out to them.

Jeremy’s first call had been to Colonel Stevens, Commander of the 57th Wing at Nellis AFB.

What th' hell happened out there?

Stevens replied, One of the KC-135 pilots on loan from the ANG out of Lincoln, Nebraska went berserk, ordered his crew to bail out, shot his co-pilot when he wouldn’t go, then headed for the Rose Bowl with the intent of crashing it there, like a copy-cat 9/11. Fortunately, he was forced down in the mountains, away from the stadium and other populated areas.

Forced down? Who took him out?

We don’t know.

What do you mean, you don’t know?

One of the two F-16 pilots sent after it, a Captain David Miller, said an unidentified craft took it down. Carter heard the catch in Steven’s voice before he continued. A UFO.

A flying saucer!

"Yeah. Miller got there in time to catch it all on his gun camera. I thought maybe it was some spook plane from Area 51, but I called over there and they said they had nothing up at the time. Miller insisted the pilot sounded like one of our guys when he contacted him on the radio.

Your pilot talked to the pilot of the UFO?

Yes. He may not even be military. Captain Miller couldn't raise him on any military frequency. Finally made contact on civilian Guard Frequency, 121.5. We have the radio transmissions on tape as well as the video. You can see and hear them for yourself.

That I'd like to do. In fact, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Miller personally.

No problem. When do you want him?

Tell him to be in my office Friday morning, 4 January. And send the video and audio tapes along with him.

I'll get it done.

Jeremy pushed harder, his running shoes mashing into last fall’s wet leaves, still clustered in low drifts along the edges of the asphalt drive. Today was the day for debriefing the personnel involved. In a couple of hours he would interview the lead F-16 pilot, Captain David Miller, and the other key personnel in the incident. Last night he’d ordered them to fly here immediately for a debriefing. He vowed to get to the bottom of this incident. The last 24 hours had been a roller coaster. His emotions had risen and plunged from relief to anger, to elation, back to rage, and then . . . even fear, though he would never admit that to anyone. Fear had been hovering ever since that morning of September 11th when it first jumped him.

Like most everyone else that day, he’d had his eyes glued to a television, watching the airliner crash into the World Trade Center, played over and over and over by the networks. When he saw the second one crash, he’d yelled, That’s no accident. We’re under attack! He frantically punched numbers into his phone to scramble fighters nearest New York City to react to the threat, knowing in his heart that it was too little, too late. He never dreamed that his own life might be at risk there in the Pentagon.

At 9:45 a.m. he felt the Pentagon shudder with the impact of the airliner crashing into the building, before the sound of the explosion penetrated to his office. In the midst of the emergency sirens blaring, he seethed in helpless rage, knowing it was already too late. Where else might they attack, whoever they were? The White House? The Capitol? He grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers for the fighter wing at Andrews AFB, fearing he was too late again. Indeed, he was later to learn that but for the bravery of a few passengers on United Flight 93 over Pennsylvania, the White House would have been hit too. He grieved the loss of his colleagues on the other side of the building.

Now, four months later, as he ran through the quiet lanes of the cemetery, he debated his next move. He had been jubilant two days ago when he received a report from Nellis that the Black Ops guys at Area 51 had actually retrieved the flying saucer allegedly used to take down the KC-135. Thank God for the pilot of that thing! What a disaster that would have been! He shivered as his mind played out the potential results of such a fiasco. The nearly three thousand deaths at the World Trade Center would have been small in comparison. And with an experienced Air Force pilot at the controls! Though grateful that someone, still unknown, had successfully beat his F-16's to the scene and taken the KC-135 out with that saucer, he also felt deeply embarrassed that these things had all happened on his watch. If the UFO had not succeeded and his guys had been forced to shoot down the KC-135 and splatter 25,000 gallons of flaming jet fuel and wreckage over Pasadena, it would probably have meant the end of his career. Even so, he felt perilously close to losing his job, for having allowed it all to happen. Wasn’t he responsible for keeping this nation safe? Either result, with a nation still in mourning over 9-11, would have been unthinkable. The White House, with its current leadership, would have been equally at a loss about what to do, but not about whom to blame.

As far as he knew, his people were keeping the truth of what happened in Pasadena secret, as he’d ordered. But given the leaky nature of human beings, he knew that wouldn’t last long. His high spirits over the capture and retrieval of the saucer lasted only a few hours, until they were dashed by the news that both the saucer and a woman captured with it had disappeared. How did that happen? No wonder the terrorists were able to penetrate national security and deliver such a blow to the United States. With that kind of competence, it’s a wonder that things were not worse. He would get to the bottom of this, one way or the other.

Late last night, when he’d received the report that the saucer and woman were missing, he'd immediately called the wing commander again and ordered him, along with the Colonel heading up security at Area 51, all to report directly to his office by 10 a.m. this morning. He’d had his staff arrange for them to come in three separate aircraft, unknown to each other. This meant that they would have to fly during the night and would no doubt be tired upon arrival at Andrews AFB here in D.C. Fine, he thought. He was tired too. He ordered the Air Force Security Forces to meet and transport each of them to his office in separate cars, with strict orders that they not be allowed to see or talk to each other. He didn’t want to give them the opportunity to coordinate their stories. He needed to know exactly what happened from those directly involved. No chain of command massaging of the information. He decided to start with the pilot of the F-16 involved in the incident with the 135. Just as well take it from the top, he thought, as he continued his run.

Later, in the shower at the Pentagon, his mind flashed back even further over the events of the past year. Like the needle of a phonograph stuck in a scratch in one of the grooves, he replayed the angry scene with Amanda, just before she walked out a year ago. She’d berated his stubborn disbelief of their son, Josh, who for years had reported being taken by a flying saucer. Josh, a gangly, frail looking youth of sixteen, began telling those stories at age four. How could anyone believe such stupid nonsense, though he reluctantly admitted to himself that the kid seemed genuinely traumatized after those so-called events? The chaos and fights that emerged with his wife over his refusal to believe Josh’s stories eventually created so much distance and pain that Amanda claimed she had to leave in order to protect her own sanity. Divorce followed not long after.

He felt sad and angry about the divorce, which had only recently become final. When she first left, he’d told her that she must be insane to believe such nonsense. His own beliefs had carried him righteously until last summer, when two apparently ordinary guys flew a 40-foot saucer into the big Experimental Aircraft Association air show at Oshkosh, Wisconsin. The media had climbed all over that one. At first he’d thought it a hoax, but later had to concede that maybe it was real after he’d watched media video footage of the saucer, and especially of its departure. It went straight up and disappeared in a matter of seconds, in total silence yet! No jet exhaust! As far as he knew nothing in the current USAF inventory, or even in development at the Skunk Works or Area 51 would match what he saw in the film footage. He’d vowed then and there to get his hands on that machine, whatever it might be. Until two days ago, all efforts to find it had come up empty handed. Did those pilots have anything to do with this KC-135 incident?

Inquiry revealed that the NSA agents who tried to capture and hold the saucer and its crew at Oshkosh were so heavy handed it was no wonder the pilots decided to get away. Another one of Tony Davis’ National Security Agency’s glorious feats. There had long been rumors of such a craft buried deep in one of the underground hangars at Area 51, rumors that were fed by the movie Independence Day. But that was all just Hollywood bullshit, at least as far as he could determine. Or was it? Had someone kept secrets even from him? Maybe Josh’s stories held some truth after all.

He was seeing his world start to fall apart and maybe his career too. It had begun with Josh’s stories and Amanda divorcing him, then the 9-11 disaster, the near miss crash of the KC-135, and now, capturing and then losing the saucer. What a merry-go-round! He shook his head, as if to shake these events out of his reality.

He finished donning his full dress uniform and gave himself a final inspection in the mirror before heading up to his office. He hoped that his interviews with Miller and the others would provide some definitive information. Miller should be landing by now and would arrive soon. He couldn’t wait to see what the gun camera had captured!

He gave a little shiver of fear. Now where the hell did that come from?

2

Jan 4, 2002 09:00

The Pentagon

Jeremy opened the door to his office and nodded to his administrative assistant, Good morning, Ella.

Good morning, General.

Have you heard from the escort team bringing our guests from Andrews?

Yes. Captain Miller should be arriving here within the next fifteen minutes. I’m unsure of the ETA of the other two.

Good. Good. Could you arrange to have a pot of coffee and some pastries or bagels here when they arrive? I think we're all going to need a little something extra, especially our guests.

Will there be anything else?

I want to tape these conversations. Let’s put a multi-directional mike on the coffee table. I know that we already have a hidden system in place, but I want this to be obvious. No surprises. Plug the mike into the same system, so I can start the recording with the switch on my desk used for the hidden system. I’d rather have them be uncomfortable with it than have them find out later and feel betrayed. Make sure there is adequate tape in the machine.

I’ll take care of it.

Jeremy turned and went to his desk. Today’s debriefings would make for a long day, made more so by his own short night. It would be shorter still for the three guests. Captain Miller would be first. Best to start with where the action took place. Next he hoped to see Colonel Stevens, C.O. of the KC-135 Tanker Unit. That way he would have some facts in hand when he confronted the Area 51 security commander, Colonel Bosley, who would be last. He expected that to be a ticklish interview. Theoretically the man took orders from Carter’s chain of command. But his own background research had revealed that Bosley was really under the thumb of Tony Davis, the head of NSA.

While he awaited Miller’s arrival, he plotted his strategy for these interviews. He remembered his flight instructors coaching him during his pilot training days that a good approach made for a better landing. A light knock on the door and Ella rolled in the coffee cart. A moment later she returned and announced, Captain Miller is here, sir.

Thank you, Ella. Send him on in.

The man entered, snapped to attention, and gave a sharp salute, Captain David Miller, sir.

Carter returned the salute. At ease, Captain. Thank you for giving up your night’s sleep to be here this morning. I hated to ask you to make that sacrifice, but I’m sure you’ll agree on the importance of this matter. Carter gestured to the coffee cart. Help yourself to some coffee. Might as well give ourselves a little boost.

Thank you, sir.

Just so you know, I’m recording our conversation here, Captain, Carter pointed to the mike on the table.

Yeah, I noticed. But thanks for mentioning it.

I know you’ve been thoroughly debriefed on your mission already. Consider this one more debriefing. Sorry to have to put you through it, but I wanted to hear the story directly from you, rather than from something that came up through the chain of command. That sort of written report takes a while.

Yes, sir.

I know that this is a formal setting, Captain, but I can’t help the differences in our rank. But as you may have heard, I fly the F-16 too. I’d like you to tell me the story as one pilot to another over a cool one after a mission

Thanks, General. I’ll try. He took a sip of coffee.

Any problems with your flight out here? Carter began as he poured himself coffee from the carafe.

No, sir. It went smoothly, though it was a long flight.

Carter said, Yeah, no way to make a pit stop up there. The angle of our seat in the F-16 doesn’t help much. The engineers who designed the plane didn’t have to spend several hours in that seat. I wonder if they ever tested it themselves. Have a chair, Captain." Carter waved his hand to the chair by the coffee table.

I doubt it. If they had, they would have done something different. Miller relaxed and gratefully sank into the chair Carter indicated before continuing.

"On 1 January, my wingman and I were on a training mission over Tonopah, carrying a full ordinance load, with air-to-air and air-to-ground rockets. We had expended our air-to-ground, but still had our air-to-air. The time for our rendezvous with the tanker came up, but the tanker didn’t show and I couldn’t raise him on the radio. When I reported this, Colonel Stevens radioed back that the pilot of the tanker, a guy named Ali Hassan, had ordered his crew to bail out, had killed his co-pilot, and was headed for the Rose Bowl. He ordered us to pursue and get him to abort, or as last resort, take him out. But by the time we got within range, my wingman and I observed what appeared to be a flying saucer on the tail of the 135, not just pursuing it, but hooked to it.

I finally did raise the pilot of the 135 on the radio. He told me his copilot was dead. When I ordered him to turn back to Edwards, he blew me off, so I tried calling the pilot of the saucer. I couldn't get him on any military frequency, but I finally raised him on the emergency guard frequency, 121.5. He sounded like one of our regular guys, General, not an alien. He said he had visually confirmed that the 135 pilot had killed his co-pilot and wouldn’t divert. When I asked him where he came from, he wouldn’t reveal where he was based. I assumed he was out of Area 51. You never know what’s going to come out of there. And he did take the 135 down by pushing on the tail with his saucer. At first he was pushing on the rudder, making it go in circles. Then he lowered his landing gear onto the elevator, pushing it down and forcing the 135 to descend. He rode him all the way to the ground.

Amazing, Jeremy said.

Yeah. A brave thing to do. We had orders to shoot the 135 down, but by the time we got there he was already past San Bernadino and over that strip of cities west of there. If we’d shot him out of the sky at that point, a lot of people would have died horribly, though not as many as would have been killed in the Rose Bowl. He grimaced. Would have been worse than 9-11. Guess that’s what he wanted.

What happened when you returned to base?

We’d been on the range up at Tonopah on a training mission and had planned for this guy to refuel us. By the time we hot footed it down to Pasadena, we didn’t have enough fuel to make it back to Nellis, so we had to land at Edwards Air Force Base to refuel before returning to Nellis. Our CO didn’t want to believe us at first. Fortunately, we had enough footage in our gun cameras to record what happened. Didn’t get it all, of course, because we had to circle, but we got enough to clearly show the saucer on the tail of the 135. I came up pretty close behind him. No question about that shape pushing on the rudder. I brought a copy of the tape, as you ordered, and here is the audio tape of all our radio transmissions. Miller laid the tapes on the table.

I want to take a look at it, but let’s hear the rest of your story first.

There’s not a lot left to tell. As you’ll see, the guy rode the 135 almost all the way to the ground. Just before the crash, I saw him go vertical, shoot straight up, but the explosion reached up and engulfed him. I thought he was a goner. I don’t see how anything could survive that fireball. That’s a lot of fuel to go up all at once. We circled for a while until we hit bingo and had to head over to Edwards. That’s about it.

There’s no question in your mind that it was a flying saucer? No visual distortions?

No, sir. Absolutely none at all. You can verify it for yourself with the tape.

Let’s see what you have. Give me the tape and I’ll pop it into the player here. Carter turned on his video unit and inserted the tape. With Miller, he watched, mesmerized by the images that unfolded on the screen. First he saw the sun glint off the KC-135 in the distance, and as the F-16 closed with it, he could clearly see a round shape seemingly attached to the tail. Moving in close, the image danced around from the turbulence, but he still saw, without any doubt, that it was a flying saucer. He saw no evidence of any engines, exhausts, or even flight control surfaces on it. Carter whistled in amazement. Then the two linked ships pulled away, on track for the mountain, and seconds later the 135 crashed into the mountain and exploded. The film showed just a glimpse of the saucer going vertical a fraction of a second before the crash and being caught by the explosion, and then blue sky filled the screen as Miller had circled up and away from the crash. By the time he came around again, all that could be seen was the huge smoke cloud. No sign of the saucer.

Carter let out his breath, leaned back, and sat looking silently at the screen, now only grey snow. After a minute of silence, he said, Let’s hear the audio of your contact with the pilot

They listened to the sequence of three calls: Saucer, this is Captain David Miller in an F-16 on your six. Do you read?

Silence. Miller said, That's when I thought of calling him on civilian guard frequency, 121.5.

"Saucer with the tanker, do you read me?"

"Affirmative."

"What the hell is going on?"

"I got the call that this guy was going to try to take out the Rose Bowl with his plane and a full load of gas, so I came to see what I could do. I pulled up close in formation over his cockpit and could see that he’d shot his co-pilot. I dropped my gear to signal him to turn away and land, but he gave me the finger, literally. I can’t let him kill all those people. I’m gonna put him into the ground, out where it’s safe."

"What base you out of . . . Groom Lake?"

"Negative."

"Just who the hell are you?"

"I’m not at liberty to say, sir."

"I got orders to shoot this guy down."

"I figured as much, but I don’t think that would be too smart just now, since we’re over the city already. It would take out too many people. But I think I can force him down this way, away from the city. I’ve got him descending and heading back toward the mountains. I intend to ride him all the way to the ground."

"Yeah, but it will fry your ass too."

"I’m going to try to cut loose at the last moment, when I’m sure he’s going down in a safe place. Give me some space here so I can get the job done."

"OK. But if he gets too close, I’m going to have to take a shot and it will take you out too!"

"I realize that. I’m gonna be busy here, so I won’t be talking to you for a bit."

"Good luck, whoever you are."

The sound from the tape continued with only the hiss of near silence.

You saw what happened then, Miller said.

Yes. Hard to believe, but..., Carter just shook his head without saying more. He gestured toward the video player.

I assume these are copies.

"As far as I know, sir. Col. Stevens has the original back at Nellis.

I’ll keep these here then. He paused. As you know, public relations have reported to the media that the 135 crashed of unknown causes. I don’t think there’ll be enough left of the pilots to verify whether the copilot died of gunshot wounds or from the crash. Something more may turn up in the final investigation. But for now . . . Carter’s fingers made a tent under his chin, while his mind processed the information. For now, I want you to consider this top secret. You are not to discuss this with anyone, not even your wife. When you return, tell your wingman the same thing.

We are already under orders to that effect. No one would believe us anyway, Miller gave a snort.

I suspect so, Carter chuckled. I’d like you to remain at Andrews for the day, in case I have any further questions. You’ll need some sleep before you fly back to Nellis anyway.

Yes, sir. Miller rose. And thank you sir, for accepting my story. I’ve always believed in flying saucers and hoped someday to see one, but I never dreamed it would happen like this. It’s been quite an experience. He gave a salute and left.

Carter rewound the tape and viewed it again, and yet again, as if he still couldn’t believe what he saw. He watched as the pilot used the saucer to push on the rudder of the big KC-135, making it fly around in circles. Then he shook his head in amazement when the landing gear of the saucer deployed and deflected the elevator down, forcing the nose of the 135 down as well. Miller had done a great job of following and filming the sequence. At last he extracted the tapes and placed them in his private safe.

He stepped to the outer office. Have you heard anything regarding our other two guests?

The Colonel in charge of the tanker wing will not arrive at Andrews for another hour. I asked the aide transporting Captain Miller back to Andrews to bring the Colonel as soon as he arrives. Colonel Bosley from Area 51 called in thirty minutes ago, saying he was boarding a non-stop United Airlines flight from McCarran in Las Vegas to Dulles. He should arrive at Dulles around 2:00 p.m. our time

Carter frowned. Allowing a minimum of thirty minutes for travel from Dulles to the Pentagon meant he wouldn’t arrive here until at least 2:30 p.m. He’d wanted to get this all handled during the morning hours. Damn! I ordered him to depart last night to be here this morning. Did he have anything to say for himself?

He said he had to wait for the first morning shuttle flight out from Las Vegas before he could get out of Area 51.

Likely story. He no doubt wanted to make sure he had time to confer with Tony Davis before he saw me. Of course, he is not aware that I know he and Tony are in cahoots. Well, he’s in the air now, so nothing we can do about it. We’ll play it as it comes. Thanks, Ella. Let me know when you hear anything.

I’ll keep in touch with your aides. I’ve already scheduled Sgt. Stockwell to pick up Bosley at Dulles. Do you want him to come red lights and siren?

No, not unless they get stuck in a traffic jam. Carter made no attempt to hide his irritation.

After General Carter concluded his interview with Colonel Stevens, C.O. of the KC-135 unit, he paced his office. From Stevens, he’d learned about the 135 pilot’s suicide note which more or less explained his actions. His twin sister had been killed in Jenin in the Occupied Territories, run over by an Israeli bulldozer. Given the unending cycles of revenge that marked that scene, someone should have been on the lookout. He’d given enough warning signals. Enough that Stevens had sent him to the chaplain when others around him noticed his moodiness. Well, at least he didn’t succeed in his intent to crash into the Rose Bowl. Thank God for the pilot of the saucer, whoever he was. A helluva pilot at that. Who would have thought of pushing on the tail of the KC-135 to make it crash out of harm’s way? That took courage.

According to the latest report Jeremy had, when the pilot of the saucer was going down, he’d called out his location in a Mayday. Apparently he survived the 135’s explosion, but what had happened to him in the crash of the saucer? The guys at Area 51 heard it and sent out a search party the next morning. They’d found the crash site and sent in a retrieval team to extract the saucer, which they did successfully. He had learned from a later report that the wreckage had subsequently disappeared from Area 51, along with a civilian woman captured at the crash site. Weird.

When Lt. Colonel Bosley arrived, he appeared tired and rumpled. The buttons of his shirt, stretched to the max over his bulging belly, threatened to give up their struggle at any moment. Though an Air Force officer, Bosley offered none of the deference to the General that the others had given. His arrogance only allowed a sloppy salute to the General. Maybe he believed that his other boss, Tony Davis, would cover him in this flap. Jeremy felt torn between wanting to chew him out and wanting to hear his story, to get all the information possible. He chose the latter course. He didn’t want to antagonize the man too soon and cause him to clam up.

Carter listened with increasing disbelief to the story of how they had picked up a woman at the crash site, attempted to interrogate her back at Area 51, and then lost both the saucer and the woman to some mysterious recovery team. Carter didn’t really believe that they had literally disappeared before their eyes. A bull shit story to cover their incompetence. Bumbling, arrogant fools. They say shit flows downhill. That was certainly true in this case, from Tony Davis down to this man, and probably on down to the people under him at Area 51.

After hearing the story, Carter sat at his desk, tented finger tips supporting his chin. To people who knew him, this was a bad sign, as Bosley soon found out. And what did Tony Davis have to say when you told him what happened?

Who? Bosley’s eyes flew open. His face drained of color.

Mr. Tony Davis, Director of the National Security Agency.

How would I know him? He attempted to cover his surprise.

Oh, you know him quite well. Let’s not play any games here, Bosley. Your relationship with Davis is well known to me.

Bosley’s face turned red as a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead and above his upper lip, but he remained silent.

Are you or are you not an officer in the United States Air Force?

I am.

And am I not Chief of that same Air Force and therefore the top of your chain of command?

You are. Sweat now began to roll down his face, dampening his shirt where it dripped off his quivering double chin.

No matter how much influence Davis has over you or what kind of deal you had with him, he is not your commanding officer or even in the Air Force, is he?

No, sir.

Do you fully understand what I’m saying to you?

Yes, sir. His tone showed more respect now.

In a voice steely and calm, Carter continued. "Now, I want you to go through the story again and include all the details you’ve left out. No more bullshit. If I