Chapter 10: Classified
Field Station Delta: A paranormal military thriller.
Welcome to Field Station Delta. This novella is a paranormal military thriller that I am releasing as a serial for my readers on Substack.
Day 3, 08:45
A solemn atmosphere pervaded the briefing room. No one spoke, though there was some uncomfortable shifting and a few awkward coughs from the Blue Shirts in the back.
Metzger was near the front, seated with the rest of the airmen. She was frowning. She still felt the cold fury that had seized her out at the Wheel, but she held back. For now, at least. She just wished that Nolan would take the podium already. There was no use delaying the inevitable any further.
Finally, the Colonel stepped forward. “All right, people. We’ve waited for Dr. Cartwright long enough. You all know enough details about the Van Cleef incident to understand the deadly seriousness of this situation. Some of you saw firsthand what took place out at the Wheel a little more than an hour ago. Frederick Heller, Scott Jansen, and Samuel Brewster—three innocent civilians slaughtered for unknown reasons.”
Metzger had a pretty good notion of what they were dealing with, and who was responsible, but she held her tongue.
“The rest of Van Cleef’s citizens remain unaccounted for.” The Colonel swept his steely gaze across the room and left them all in no doubt that in his own quiet, professional way he was enraged. “You men and women represent some of the best warriors and brightest minds America has produced. I want answers. I want solutions. And I want them stat.”
Before Metzger could speak up, Jacob Groenke cleared his throat. “Um—ah—I think, Colonel, that myself and the, um, Applied Research Team, have a solution in hand.”
“Let’s have it then,” Nolan said.
“Well, Colonel, this piece of equipment is highly—and I mean highly—experimental. We haven’t been able to schedule a proper field test yet, what with all the—”
“Get to the point, Dr. Groenke.”
“Yes, well. One moment please.” At a sign from Groenke, two of his Blue Shirt assistants heaved a reinforced container onto a small table at the front of the conference room. It looked like a heavy-duty gun case. With a flourish that Metzger thought was in bad taste given the circumstances, Groenke opened the case and produced a bulky but formidable looking weapon the size of an M32 grenade launcher.
“What the hell is that?” Whitts asked. “Looks like the BFG from Doom.”
“This is the Modulating Ectomagnetic Energy Projector.”
“The MEEP? Seriously?”
Of course, the Blue Shirts gave their shiny new toy a pet name. Several of the airmen groaned audibly. Sergeant Phan shook his head in disgust.
“That’s just a working designation,” Groenke mumbled sheepishly.
Nolan motioned for silence. “And what exactly does the…” The Colonel scowled, apparently unwilling to use the silly acronym. “What does this thing do Groenke?”
“The MEEP is a next-generation man-portable directed energy weapon. A ray gun, if you will. Our readings have indicated that anomalous phenomena are directly associated with spikes in XAP-energy. When this psychokinetic residue interacts with the earth’s natural electromagnetic field, it leaves a unique traceable signature. Tracking these energy spikes is how our RADIS device works. I hypothesize that extradimensional entities like our little friends at the Wheel can psychokinetically manipulate the earth’s EM field in order to manifest. Hence the term ectomagnetic.”
Sergeant Phan spoke up. “So, your MEEP does what, exactly? Stop these creeps from logging into our dimension?”
Groenke paused. “Well, not exactly. Say, rather, that when calibrated to the right frequency, the MEEP generates powerful blast of PKE feedback on any target-entity using the EM spectrum to ‘log in,’ as you put it.”
“Can it hurt them?” asked Valdes.
“Yes. In theory,” stressed Groenke. “In simulations, the MEEP system performs quite well. In battlefield conditions?” The lanky scientist shrugged.
Several of the airmen muttered angrily. Metzger didn’t blame them. It always seemed like the grunts ended up being the unwilling guinea pigs for the R&D crowd.
Colonel Nolan frowned. “Even if your new weapon can hurt these… things… that does not get our people back, Groenke.”
“Well, no. Not directly, of course. But perhaps some EM-feedback might persuade them to release their captives?”
Valdes nearly leapt out of his chair. “That’s crazy! You could get Mary Bonds and the others killed!”
“Easy Valdes,” Phan said. The sergeant turned to Groenke. “If we can track anomalies with the RADIS, then couldn’t we lay a trap for our little friends?”
Metzger saw her opening. “Of course we could. Because the Blue Shirts have done it before.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Metzger held Groenke’s gaze and so she didn’t notice Colonel Nolan’s genuine expression of surprise.
Groenke chuckled nervously. “ I—don’t know what you mean, Airman Metzger.”
Metzger went in for the kill. “Why don’t you enlighten us about the results of Project: Key Master, Dr. Groenke. Your other device worked perfectly in the field.”
Groenke’s mouth hung open. Cathy Doyle and Violet Olstead shared a look of satisfaction.
“Doctor Groenke,” prodded Doyle, “maybe we should tell them—”
“But—”
“Yes,” said Metzger, “tell us about the Ectomagnetic Containment Grid Generator—the XAP-Trap. If you won’t, I will.”
“That project’s classified!” Groenke blurted.
“Nothing on this field station is classified to me,” said Nolan in a controlled but firm tone. “Go on, Airman Metzger.”
Before she could speak, Violet stepped forward. “Allow me.”
“By all means,” said Metzger. She was pleased, but not too surprised, that Violet was fully committed to seeing their plan through. The young remote viewer was sticking her neck out knowing full well that Dr. Cartwright could bring down the ax. But the traumatic incident at the Medicine Wheel had not broken Violet’s spirit; it had only revealed the mettle that existed beneath her superficial exterior.
Violet addressed the room. “The ARG crew developed the device based on information from Project: Silver Bullet—a remote viewing operation that was USAF’s counterpart to the Army’s Project: Star Gate—as well as from data collected by the RADIS. We determined the precise electromagnetic energy frequencies used by the entities to travel to our reality from… wherever it is they come from. Ms. Doyle could explain better. Like, I don’t know how all the techy stuff actually works.”
“Essentially, it began as a call-and-response simulation,” Cathy said. “We open a door and say ‘Hello, come on in,’ and then…” She clapped her hands together. “The XAP entities come in and we close the door behind them.”
“The Air Force tried exactly the same thing in Afghanistan,” Metzger said, still holding Groenke’s gaze, her expression one of barely contained fury. “That’s what really happened. Operation: White Phantom. You called out to the void and one of their ships came through. You shot it down and then my squad was sent in to be picked apart.”
“That wasn’t—well, you see, I wasn't directly involved in the Nuristan experim—OW!!” Violet stomped hard on Groenke’s foot with her heeled shoe, saving him from the danger of further antagonizing Metzger.
“But you did use the device again,” Phan said. “Here. Recently.”
“Yes sir,” Cathy said.
“And these monsters took the people of Van Cleef prisoner because of that. Because of you,” Valdes said.
Cathy Doyle nodded silently.
Colonel Nolan seethed. “I don’t recall authorizing any such thing.”
A cold voice came from the doorway. “Of course not. The operation was strictly need-to-know.”
They all turned. It was Dr. Helen Cartwright.
“I’m the commander of this research facility and this combat unit,” Nolan shot back. “Do you think you can circumvent my authority, Doctor?”
“My security clearance is higher than yours, Colonel Nolan,” said Cartwright, in the patient tone of a parent attempting to reason with an aggrieved and petulant child. “Washington deemed that, for the sake of operational security, compartmentalization should take precedence over military rank.”
Nolan ignored Cartwright’s bureaucratic logic. “Your science experiment put the men and women under my command at risk. And you are directly responsible for the deaths of three American civilians. I will—”
A shrill beeping interrupted the debate. Groenke snatched a large e-tablet off the conference table and frowned. Then he turned pale.
“Um, Dr. Cartwright. Colonel. We need to evacuate the base immediately.”
“What are you talking about?” Nolan demanded.
Cathy peered at the data pad over Groenke’s shoulder. Her voice trembled with fear. “The RADIS has detected another massive atmospheric anomaly—just like the ones that settled over Van Cleef—only it’s bigger. Much bigger. and it’s forming directly above us.”
Metzger's blood froze in her veins. Oh, shit.
There was a rumbling noise like thunder and the walls shook. A piercing tone filled the room, as if someone had struck a gigantic tuning fork. Metzger’s skull throbbed with pain.
There were cries of panic and confused shouting all around. The overhead lights flickered wildly. The world seemed to tilt at a crazy angle. Metzger felt herself falling from her chair just as the room was plunged into total darkness.
Doctors say "stat." Military says "ASAP." Just in case you are going to publish.
Metzger might be scornful of the nickname, but I'd think most of the airmen would be all for "MEEP." Rob thinks they'd eventually paint a roadrunner on it.
Otherwise, another great episode!
Oh boy! Oh boy! They a coming!