Area 51: The Mission-3 by Robert Doherty
Authors: Robert Doherty
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Espionage, Political, High Tech, Unidentified flying objects, Space ships, Area 51 (Nev.), Plague, Extraterrestrial beings
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not quite dead.
Toland checked the bodies with a red lens flashlight. Various faces appeared in the glow, frozen in the moment of their death. Some of the faces were no longer recognizable as human, the mines and bullets having done their job.
As he got to the one of the bodies that had been carried, he saw a female's face caught in the light, the eyes staring straight up, the lips half parted. He could tell she had been beautiful, with an exotic half-Indian, half-Spanish look, but she was covered in blood now and there was a rash across her face—broad black welts. Toland walked over to the other makeshift stretcher. The body in there was in even worse shape. There was much more blood than the round through the forehead would have brought forth. The same black welts across the face. Toland reached down and ripped open the man's shirt. His body was covered with them.
"Let's get a move on!" Toland yelled out. After five minutes, the men began to file by, dropping whatever they'd found in front of him. A stack of plastic-wrapped packages soon covered the sheet.
Toland stabbed one of the packages with his knife. Coca paste poured out of the hole. "Shit," he muttered. He looked up at Faulkener. "It isn't here."
88
Faulkener shrugged. "We were told to stop anyone coming out and find a metal case. What now?"
Toland pointed to the east, down the pass. "We do what else we were told to."
The patrol began moving toward the border with Brazil.
Turcotte headed back for the Osprey. He'd left Captain Miller in charge of Scorpion Base. Besides the bodies in the vats, there was little else to indicate anything about STAAR. There were several computers in an area that had obviously been a command-and-control center. Turcotte had the hard drives of those computers with him, and he would give them to Major Quinn at Area 51 for analysis.
Miller was also supposed to remove at least one of the bodies from its vat.
That task was going to be harder than it appeared, given that the liquid inside the tank had frozen also. They were going to have to thaw the entire thing out.
Turcotte gave the order for the plane he had come in on to head north.
As the Osprey took off, he looked at the hard drives he had with him. He doubted that STAAR had been stupid enough to leave anything of importance on them, but one never knew. He'd seen some very smart people do some very stupid things over the years when they were in a rush, and with the foo fighter bearing down on their location the STAAR personnel would have been in one hell of a rush.
The mystery of STAAR would remain a mystery. For a few days longer, at least.
"Major Quinn, this is security," the voice came over the tiny receiver fitted into the Air Force officer's left ear.
89
Quinn's station was set on a dais that overlooked the Cube. Since the discovery that the two STAAR bodies weren't quite human, the entire facility had been shut down, bringing outraged cries from the media that had descended on the place after the "outing" of the mothership and bouncers by Duncan and Turcotte.
Quinn was actually happy they were closed off to the outside world. His years of working for Majestic-12 had left him ill-prepared to deal with the reporters who had tried poking their noses into everything. UNAOC and Washington both felt the STAAR story needed to be kept under wraps for now, and for that Quinn was grateful.
"This is Quinn," he replied into the small boom mike in front of his lips.
"What is it?"
"We've got an intruder."
"Location?"
"Well, sir, he just drove up to the main gate."
"Turn him over to the local authorities," Quinn said irritably.
"He's asking for a Larry Kincaid and a Lisa Duncan, sir."
Quinn pursed his lips. "What's his name?"
"He refuses to give it, sir. But he's not American. He says he's from Russia.
From something called Section Four."
"Bring him in."
90
-7-
"Mike." Lisa Duncan wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight.
Turcotte returned the hug,
Toland checked the bodies with a red lens flashlight. Various faces appeared in the glow, frozen in the moment of their death. Some of the faces were no longer recognizable as human, the mines and bullets having done their job.
As he got to the one of the bodies that had been carried, he saw a female's face caught in the light, the eyes staring straight up, the lips half parted. He could tell she had been beautiful, with an exotic half-Indian, half-Spanish look, but she was covered in blood now and there was a rash across her face—broad black welts. Toland walked over to the other makeshift stretcher. The body in there was in even worse shape. There was much more blood than the round through the forehead would have brought forth. The same black welts across the face. Toland reached down and ripped open the man's shirt. His body was covered with them.
"Let's get a move on!" Toland yelled out. After five minutes, the men began to file by, dropping whatever they'd found in front of him. A stack of plastic-wrapped packages soon covered the sheet.
Toland stabbed one of the packages with his knife. Coca paste poured out of the hole. "Shit," he muttered. He looked up at Faulkener. "It isn't here."
88
Faulkener shrugged. "We were told to stop anyone coming out and find a metal case. What now?"
Toland pointed to the east, down the pass. "We do what else we were told to."
The patrol began moving toward the border with Brazil.
Turcotte headed back for the Osprey. He'd left Captain Miller in charge of Scorpion Base. Besides the bodies in the vats, there was little else to indicate anything about STAAR. There were several computers in an area that had obviously been a command-and-control center. Turcotte had the hard drives of those computers with him, and he would give them to Major Quinn at Area 51 for analysis.
Miller was also supposed to remove at least one of the bodies from its vat.
That task was going to be harder than it appeared, given that the liquid inside the tank had frozen also. They were going to have to thaw the entire thing out.
Turcotte gave the order for the plane he had come in on to head north.
As the Osprey took off, he looked at the hard drives he had with him. He doubted that STAAR had been stupid enough to leave anything of importance on them, but one never knew. He'd seen some very smart people do some very stupid things over the years when they were in a rush, and with the foo fighter bearing down on their location the STAAR personnel would have been in one hell of a rush.
The mystery of STAAR would remain a mystery. For a few days longer, at least.
"Major Quinn, this is security," the voice came over the tiny receiver fitted into the Air Force officer's left ear.
89
Quinn's station was set on a dais that overlooked the Cube. Since the discovery that the two STAAR bodies weren't quite human, the entire facility had been shut down, bringing outraged cries from the media that had descended on the place after the "outing" of the mothership and bouncers by Duncan and Turcotte.
Quinn was actually happy they were closed off to the outside world. His years of working for Majestic-12 had left him ill-prepared to deal with the reporters who had tried poking their noses into everything. UNAOC and Washington both felt the STAAR story needed to be kept under wraps for now, and for that Quinn was grateful.
"This is Quinn," he replied into the small boom mike in front of his lips.
"What is it?"
"We've got an intruder."
"Location?"
"Well, sir, he just drove up to the main gate."
"Turn him over to the local authorities," Quinn said irritably.
"He's asking for a Larry Kincaid and a Lisa Duncan, sir."
Quinn pursed his lips. "What's his name?"
"He refuses to give it, sir. But he's not American. He says he's from Russia.
From something called Section Four."
"Bring him in."
90
-7-
"Mike." Lisa Duncan wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight.
Turcotte returned the hug,
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