General Dwight Anderson paced the hall again, and took
another long drag off his cigarette. As head of Air Force
Intelligence, he was responsible for the HARBINGER project,
in a round about way. They had waited almost two months
after he took the position before they told him about
HARBINGER and his association with it. The news drove
Anderson to a weekend of very heavy drinking. Once he'd
recovered from his three day drunk, he accepted the truth,
and turned to chain smoking for relief.
He hoped General Blackburn arrived very soon for two
reasons. First, he only had three cigarettes left. Second,
he did not want to tell this news to the President of the
United States without the Air Force Chief of Staff at his
side. What was it Benjamin Franklin had said at the signing
of the Declaration of Independence? "We must all hang
together, else we shall all hang separately..."
Blackburn's heavy steps echoed down the hall and
Anderson rushed to meet him. "Paul, I've got a pistol in
the car... Let's just kill ourselves right now and save the
torture of telling the old man."
"Don't be a wimp, Dwight. Have you got the briefing
papers?"
"Of course I have them. I've had them in my safe for
two years, praying every night that I'd die before the
President found out."
"Look: it's not our fault. This snowball was set in
motion forty years ago. The old man will understand."
Anderson followed his boss down the hall toward the
Oval Office. "I hope like hell you're right, but I'm not
going to bet my pension on it-- his valet said he was not
happy."
The Generals were met at the door by a Secret Service
agent who quickly waved a medal detecting wand over them.
Even Four Star Generals learn not to be insulted by security
when the President's life is at stake. The agent nodded to
a second agent, who buzzed the President to inform him of
the Generals' arrival. He opened the door and the two
entered.
"Gentlemen. This had better be good-- they never woke
Reagan in the middle of the night." The President shook
hands out of courtesy, then sat behind his desk.
"I'm afraid, Mr. President, it is not good..." stated
Blackburn, "It is very bad. General Anderson has a
briefing prepared."
Anderson cleared his throat, and opened the sealed
folder. It was going to be hard enough reading the report,
the fact that the Commander-In-Chief was sitting across the
desk from him wearing pajamas and a robe with the
Presidential seal on it, was only going to make matters
worse. "Sir, this briefing was prepared on 14 September,
1951, by then Head of Air Force Intelligence General John
Hambrick."
"On 7 July, 1947, A flying disk crashed while on a
reconnaissance mission of Roswell Army Airfield. The
vehicle was recovered, along with three alien occupants,
pronounced deceased by medical experts--"
"Stop!" ordered the President. "Alien occupants? Now,
are you talking about little green men from outer space?"
Anderson looked at Blackburn who cleared his throat and
shifted in his chair. "Actually, sir, they have an off
white tint."
"Gray," offered General Anderson.
"Yes, I'd say gray," agreed Blackburn.
The president fell against the back of his chair and
Anderson continued to read. "After discussion with members
of the government, President Truman determined that a joint
CIA and USAF operation should study this and all other
crashed flying disks. The operation called for the Air
Force to form a special team to recover the disks and
eliminate any proof of their existence from the crash site.
Furthermore, one of the operation's primary goals should be
the capture of a functioning device for study and
duplication. The operation was codenamed Operation
MAJESTIC."
"During the course of the next three years, two other
disks were recovered. One from Aztec, New Mexico, and
another from the Appalachians in Kentucky. The disks have
been studied diligently, but have not yet yielded any
secrets."
"Because MAJESTIC hasn't provided us with any useful
technology," interrupted Blackburn, "It was dropped from the
Presidential briefings after 1964. The files were retired
by both the Air Force and CIA that same year. Today the
project is virtually nonexistent except for basic
administrative duties of maintaining the hangars and
warehouses where the equipment and craft are stored."
Anderson paused, to ensure Blackburn was finished. "As
MAJESTIC continued, the Air Force began to feel that the
research was not proceeding in an acceptable fashion, due to
the CIA's reluctance to allow certain scientists clearance
to study the devices for security reasons. It was the
general belief among senior Air Force officers that the CIA
was rejecting America's top scientists out of concern for
the degree of control they could exert on them. This caused
a rift to form in relations between the organizations."
"It was decided that the continued interservice rivalry
would eventually cripple the project beyond repair. As the
CIA had managed to seize nearly full control of the
MAJESTIC, the Air Force relinquished their authority to
them. The CIA was satisfied to take over the operation with
minimal Air Force involvement since the scientists had
already theorized that changes in the most recently recover
disk, were meant to correct the problem that was causing the
crashes."
"They were correct in their assumption, but the
improvement to the machines had not yet been perfected. On
19 August, 1949, a disk crashed in Death Valley, California.
This crash, however, had two survivors which were recovered
by Air Force Search And Rescue teams. The aliens, code
named ROGER and WILCO, were transported to a remote,
inactive training field near Muroc Dry Lake."
"That's what we call Edwards Air Force Base, now, Sir,"
explained Blackburn.
"The officer in the field notified his Air Force
superiors of his find, but notified the CIA that the search
had not been successful. Before senior Air Force staff
could react to the news, an alien disk arrived at the field.
The alien commander asked the officer to turn over the
crewman he had rescued. As the officer has no idea as to
the alien's intentions, or the capability of their weapons,
he released the survivors."
"Before doing so, the officer insisted that the
commander of the recovery disk give his word that he would
arrange for a delegation to visit this post in twelve days
to discuss future contact between their species. The alien
assured him that he would do everything in his power to
arrange the meeting if the officer would release the
survivors. The officer later commented in his report: 'I
was not sure whether the spacemen were ambassadors of
goodwill or harbingers of doom, but I intented to deal with
them as I would anyone else... Fairly and honestly.'
Apparently, the aliens were impressed with the officer's
character and willingness to accept the word of a stranger,
and returned twelve days later, as promised."
"A party of five aliens met with members of the Air
Force staff on 28 August, 1949. After several hours of
negotiations, an agreement was arrived upon that would allow
the transfer of culture and science through an on-going
exchange program. The Earthside end of this project was
designated Operation HARBINGER."
"Stop. On-going exchange program?" asked the
President. "That makes it sound like Swedish high school
students studying in American."
"Well, sir," started Blackburn uneasily, "That's a
pretty good description of how the program works."
The President stared at Blackburn. "Are you telling me
that we've been sending people into outer space since 1949?"
"Fifty-three," stated Anderson. "the first exchange
took place in 1953. We send two humans, they send two
aliens."
The President ran his fingers through his hair. "Why
in the hell didn't I know about this."
"I believe that question will be answered if General
Anderson will continue the briefing," stated Blackburn.
"Where was I? Ah, here we go: The project called for
the transfer of two aliens in exchange for two humans for a
period of eight hundred forty-two days. The exchangees
would study culture, history, and science, but could only
learn that information which was public knowledge on the
host planet."
"After the meeting with the aliens, it was determined
that President Truman might not be sympathetic to the Air
Force's concerns over the CIA. For this reason, in order to
avoid the loss of what might be mankind's only chance to
journey beyond our planet, it was decided by the below
signed officers not to brief the President on the existence
of Operation HARBINGER."
General Anderson removed the pages from the folder and
slid them across the desk for the President to examine. The
President took the papers and studied them for a moment. He
tapped the pages on the desk to straighten them. He lay
them on the desk top before him. In a voice so calm, it
could only be the product of uncontrolled rage, the
President spoke: "Am I to understand that a group of
military officers banded together, and signed a paper
agreeing not to tell their Commander-In-Chief about a secret
meeting with aliens? Am I further to accept that for over
forty years, dozens of military officers, including the two
of you, have conspired to keep this information from this
office."
"Yes sir, I... that's almost correct," answered
Blackburn.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't that qualify as
mutiny... or treason?" Neither man spoke. Anderson wanted
a cigarette. He knew the old man wouldn't take it well. He
should have shot himself when he had the chance. "I take it
they didn't tell Ike, either."
"That is correct, sir," answered Blackburn.
"And..." asked the President.
"I don't want to bore you with details, sir."
"Bore me? Bore me!" asked the President sarcastically.
"You've already ruined my night's sleep by reading me a two
page report of conspiracy and deceit. You might as well
tell me the whole story. Who knows, it might have a happy
ending? I wouldn't bet your careers on it..."
"Well, sir," started Blackburn, "The thought of having
to tell a former Five Star General about the arrangement
concerned the officers. They chose to wait until the next
President took office and hope it wasn't MacArthur. When
Kennedy was elected, the Air Force briefed him about
HARBINGER."
"Kennedy didn't react well to the existence of the
aliens. He publicly asked NASA to put a man on the moon by
the end of the decade, and privately ordered the Air Force
to have a permanent military post on the moon by '75. His
concept was that we could not defend the our planet if the
aliens controlled our moon. Defense analysts tried to
convince him that an outpost on the Moon would be too
expensive, and impossible to defend, but he insisted they
pursue the project anyway. After his death, it was
abandoned.
"With the prospect of war on the horizon, the sudden
change of office, and Kennedy's unexpected reaction, it was
decided to drop HARBINGER and MAJESTIC from future
briefings. No President since 1963 has had knowledge of the
project," concluded Blackburn.
The President stood and walked to the fireplace.
"That's a very interesting story General, but it didn't have
a happy ending." He turned to face the men. "A happy
ending would be if the two of you told me that you were
telling me this to clear your consciences."
"No sir."
"What's gone wrong? Have the aliens decided to
invade?"
"No, sir," offered Blackburn, "Nothing that severe.
The aliens view our civilization as a primitive society with
no redeeming technologies or resources other than the study
of us. If they invaded, they would destroy our society, and
as such, our usefulness."
"That's a cheery thought," stated the President flatly.
"What's gone wrong, Anderson?"
Anderson swallowed the lump that had hung in his throat
for the last fourty-five minutes. "Sir... An unknown
paramilitary force entered the HARBINGER compounded
approximately one hour ago, and abducted one of the
HARBINGER participants."
"Someone stole one of our aliens?"
"Yes sir."
The President paced the floor silently. "Have you
considered the Russians?" he asked without stopping.
"The Russians have their own aliens," mumbled
Blackburn.
"The Chinese?"
"We believe the Chinese have a similar project also,
sir," stated Anderson.
"Of course!" roared the President, "Everyone's got
aliens but me!" He stopped at the corner of his desk,
pressed his fists against the top, and stared angrily at the
men. "Who in the hell was it?"
"A security officer at Nellis believes it was an
investigative reporter from Los Angeles," whispered
Anderson.
The President did not move. "If you tell me it was
Geraldo Rivera, I'll have the Marine Guards take you outside
and execute you in the Rose Garden."
"It wasn't Geraldo. We've already checked: he's in New
York," added Anderson, but the President didn't seem to hear
him; he'd begun his pacing again.
"What have you done to me?" he whispered to himself.
"What did I do to deserve this?" He paced several more
times, then stopped abruptly to face the Generals. "You
sons-of-bitches knew this was going on! Don't you see what
you've done!"
"If this man is a reporter, he's done this for one
reason: to expose a government cover-up. He's going to
march that alien in front of a television camera and tell
the world about how the Air Force, and the Presidency, has
lied to them for nearly half this century. Then I'll have
to stand there and say I didn't know anything about it!"
"Do you think they'll believe me? Shit no! I am not
going through another so called cover-up that I had nothing
to do with!" screamed the President. "Now, what are you
doing to contain the situation?"
"We've alerted the FBI, every Nevada law enforcement
agency, and have a crack team out of Nellis Air Force Base
on the case," said Blackburn proudly.
"And what about the CIA, gentlemen? Have you notified
them?" Blackburn and Anderson looked at each other
guiltily. "No, I didn't think you had. Can we expect any
help from the aliens?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. President, the radio we used to
communicate with the aliens was destroyed in the assault.
Standard radio transmissions would take five years to reach
their star, and I doubt that they monitor our frequencies,"
explained Anderson.
"We don't have a spare?" asked the President.
"No sir," answered Blackburn, "They made us buy that
one."
"You should have bought a spare! How much did it
cost?"
Blackburn squirmed nervously. "Thirty-one tons of
dried, chopped, parsley."
"Parsley!" yelled the President, trying hard to contain
his blood pressure. "What in the hell did they want parsley
for?"
"I don't know, sir."
"And you only bought one radio?"
"Sir: Do you have any idea how much thirty-one tons of
parsley is? They only gave us twelve days to pay them. It
cost the government millions."
The President shook his head and stomped across the
room. "This is insane. Listen to me-- both of you. You
put a lid on this thing. Stop it, right now! I want the
alien back in our custody and I want these people silenced
at all costs. Do you understand me?"
"Silenced, Mr. President?" asked Anderson uneasily.
"Silenced, General. I don't care how you do it: word
of this must not leak to the public. Not now... Not this
way. Now get out of here!" The generals rose and saluted.
The President ignored the gesture and fell into his chair.
As Anderson opened the door, the President called to the
men. "I expect a list of all living officers, active or
retired, with knowledge of HARBINGER in my office in the
morning."
"Yes sir, Mr. President," stated General Blackburn, as
he exited. He fully understood why the President wanted the
list. If they successfully recovered the alien, they would
be given the opportunity to retire, immediately. If they
failed, the list would become the roll call at the court
martial hearings.
Once out of the office, Anderson whispered to
Blackburn, "I told you he wouldn't take it well." Blackburn
grunted, then turned to the left to call Keeney at Nellis.
Anderson walked to his car, drove home, and shot himself.
No suicide note was found.
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