encounters of the fourth kind.” Rick was trying to put everyone at ease. It didn’t do much damage to the plane. Carl asked, “You both okay back there?” Rick replied, “Yeah, we’re okay. Put a nasty dent in our ramp though. Not going to be able to pressurize this bird. We’ll have to keep the ramp down on the way back to Sonde. We’ll have to stay low and slow.” Glenn piped in, “Not much lower and slower than we can get right now. By the way, we’re not at fault. We were rear ended, right? Besides I think that bump pushed us out of that rut.” Glenn was right. The extra push did pop them out of the hole. Carl applied power and they continued on their way. Rick clicked in, “Okay, Carl, take it a bit slower, no pun intended, but we’re going to have to keep her down to a snail’s pace.”
The Hercules started moving again. It wasn’t long until they were back up to a comfortable eight or 10 mph. The plane actually picked up a rhythmic bounce bounding over the drifts much like a speed boat slapping its way across the swells. The weather was perfect. The sun was high on the horizon. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The snow even had enough moisture in it to give the skis a good ride.
They had been pulling the shell for over two hours now. The harness was holding up fine. They were about six or seven miles out from the site at this time. They were now seeing the Radome peak up over the horizon. Rick got on the intercom, “If we can see them, they can see us. Better contact them on the handheld. Use the local frequency, not the emergency frequency 125.5. No need to stir a panic on the site.”
Carl replied, “Roger sir, will do.” Carl grabbed the handheld. He’d been rehearsing in his mind what he was going to tell the site. You can’t just casually call up a NORAD radar and communications site and say that you were about to pull up to their door step, towing a flying saucer. “Sob Story, Sob Story …..Raven One, over.” He repeated the call two more times. Finally he got a response. “Raven One. This is Sob Story. We have you visually five miles out. Contacting you via handheld. Copy?” Vince Beach was no dope. He did not want this conservation transmitted to the outside world either.
“Sob Story, roger. ETA thirty minutes. We are towing a rather large and strange looking object we found discarded on the ice approximately twenty-five miles northwest of your location. We’re bringing it in for handling and inspection. It appears safe and inert, over.” Vince grinned from ear to ear. He turned to the console operator, “Dan, they found something. I knew it. Go round up the crew. Meet in the gym in five minutes and have everyone suited up. Get the dozers and snowcats started and out of the shed.”
The news spread quickly. Everyone was quickly dressed and in the gym in a few minutes. Vince walked in. “Gentlemen and lady, I’ve got Raven One on the handheld. They are towing in an object they found on the ice near where we saw the light a few days ago.”
Everyone yipped and hollered. High fives were slapped around as if this were an NBA game. Everyone knew the implications. They did not need Vince to spell it out, after years of sightings and rumors. After careers were dashed and after subtle threats were made, this crew finally had proof. Vince threw up his arms. The crew quieted down. “We are about to make history here today. We have proof of an extraterrestrial visit. From what the aircraft crew has told me, they are pulling a snail shaped metallic object that weighs about 15,000 pounds. Don’t worry, no little green men inside or in sight.”
One of the Danish crew members shouted, “That’s good, but is it hot? It ain’t gonna fry our gonads is it?” Olga spoke up, “To hell with your balls, it ain’t going to make my tits fall off will it?” This broke the tension as everyone laughed. Vince didn’t really know the answer to this one but told them, “No sign of radiation.” Technically he was correct. After all, radiation was colorless, odorless, and tasteless. They didn’t have a Geiger counter on-site, so they were taking their chances.
“Listen up guys. This is what we need to do. The damn thing is huge. We’re going to tuck it in under the site. After we’ve got it secured, we’ll get on the horn with a Mayday from Raven One. We’ll have the other three Raven planes and crews out here looking for them along with every other aircraft within range. The idea is to get as many people involved in this as possible. No sweeping this under the rug.”
Just then the handheld crackled to life, “Sob Story, this is Raven One. We’re at the skiway. Request assistance to drag this thing up the ice apron.”
Vince responded. “Roger, my guys are on their way out now. You heard the man. Get to it.”
CHAPTER 8
Things Can Boomerang on You
Just as the harness was being removed from the shell, Dan got on the radio, “Vince, get up here ASAP. Better bring the pilot with you. Hurry up. Got a hit on the scope. Unscheduled inbound from the north. Whatever it is it’s huge.” Vince, Dave, and Rick hit the ice running. Climbing the three flights of stairs at nine thousand feet above sea level winded them all even though they were all in excellent shape.
The console room door was open. Major Boop and Vince rushed up to the scope. What they saw blew them away. “What the hell is that?” Vince asked. Dan replied, “Not sure. But it’s at maximum range and moving this way at seventy knots.” Boop responded, “Shit, they’re on to us. They’re sending in a chopper. A plane wouldn’t fly that slowly.”
Dan responded, “I don’t think you understand, Major. I’ve set the scope to the two hundred mile range; this blip is showing a return that is over a mile wide.” All four of them were quiet for a few seconds. Dave had a flash back to when he was eight years old watching a Godzilla movie on a Friday night with his brothers and sister. Everyone knew Mommazilla would always come back looking for her kid and she was usually very pissed off.
“Are you sure?” Vince asked. “Dead sure, Vince.” Rick quipped, “Poor choice of words, Dan.” Vince glared. Dan looked back at the scope and said, “At this rate, whatever this thing is, it will be here in a little less than three hours.”
“What’s the altitude?” Boop asked. Dan switched the setting on the console and again shook his head in disbelief.
“This thing is at 20,000 feet,” Dan said, “and it’s definitely not a chopper. It couldn’t fly that slowly at that altitude. The air is too thin.”
Dave asked Boop a few very calm and calculated questions. “What do you want to do, Major? Should we fly out of here now? Or should we go check this thing out?”
Boop replied calmly. “No, we don’t have the fuel to fly half that distance. We can’t get out of here. Face it Captain, no place to run and hide up here. This is going to boil down to a waiting game.”
Vince then threw in his two cents, “As site commander, it’s my responsibility to look out after my crew and site. This is getting out of hand fast. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. I’m notifying NORAD right now. Dan, dial up Cheyenne Mountain.” Dan picked up the hotline. There was nothing but static on the line. “Shit, guys, we’re up a creek. The tropo is down.”
“Damn it to hell,” Vince said. “Okay, I’ll try to radio over to DYE-2. He picked up the headset and keyed the mike, “Sob Story, Sob Story calling Sea Bass…Sob Story, Sob Story calling Sea Bass.” Vince flipped the frequency selector over to the emergency frequency and tried again. Still with no response from either DYE-2 or DYE-4. “Is that thing jamming us?” Boop asked. “Looks like it, Major.” Vince replied in frustration.
Dave offered another option, “Set off the ELT in the plane. That should get someone’s attention.”
Vince replied, “Not sure of the range up here.
