CHAPTER 1
A VERY DIFFERENT WINTER BREAK BEGINS
It was the 19th of December. One whale of a blizzard was expected to usher in the beginning of Archibald’s and Jockabeb’s winter break from school. The storm was predicted to hit shortly before midnight, with winds gusting to over sixty miles per hour. The TV weather forecaster said that there could be more than a foot of snow on the ground by morning. She also reported that heavy drifting was expected to make most of the side streets all but impassable.
Sitting at the dinner table that evening, the boys’ father looked up from his plate of fettuccine Alfredo and gazed with pride at his two sons, both of whom had celebrated birthdays earlier in the month. When he said he couldn’t believe that he already had sons who were sixteen and fifteen, Tess complained with her mouth full of food, “What about your daughter who’s twelve?”
“Tess, how many times have I told you not to talk with food in your mouth?” her mother scolded, shaking her head. Then she looked at her boys and added, “Well, I know I’m far too young to have kids that age.”
“Wait a second, honey,” her husband said with a smile on his face. “There are definite benefits of having older boys around the house. For example, they can shovel the driveway and sidewalk tomorrow morning.”
The conversation was cut short when the telephone rang. The moment her father got up to answer the phone, Tess blurted out, “I can’t believe that some people call at dinner time. That’s so rude.”
After listening to whoever was on the other end of the line for a few moments, he turned to his family and said, “I’m going to finish this call on another phone.” Hearing that, Tess raised her chin and added curtly, “Well, at least Dad knows how to be polite.”
When he returned to the dinner table a few minutes later, there wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face. Jockabeb’s jaw dropped when his father then asked somewhat testily, “Do either of you boys know a Special Agent named Quade from a government agency call the PSA?”
“Yeah, Dad, he called here right after we got back from visiting Aunt Claire,” Archibald responded somewhat warily. Then wondering what on earth Quade could be calling about, he asked, “What did he want?”
After his father said that it appeared that both his sons had quite a reputation inside the PSA, Archibald laughed and replied, “Okay, Dad, we probably should have told you he called, but we really didn’t think it was a big deal. If you really want to know the truth, we both thought it was kind of funny.”
Even though the boys’ parents had heard all about what happened during that harrowing weekend in New York City, no mention was ever made of the PSA agents who had visited Sub-Station Zero, or that those agents mistakenly thought the Ratweil was an extraterrestrial.
Jockabeb’s jaw dropped even further when his father said, “Well, you better finish your dinner quickly because Special Agent Quade was calling from a pay phone not fare away. He and another fella named Lynch are on their way over right now.”
“With this huge storm brewing?” his wife exclaimed.
The moment her husband answered, “Yes, and as you might guess, it involves your sons,” she gasped.
An Official Request for Assistance
“There’s one doozy of a storm coming in a few hours,” Special Agent Quade warned in a monotone voice as he passed through the doorway ten minutes later. After setting down his briefcase and removing a government ID from his wallet, he formally introduced himself and his partner, saying, “I’m Special Agent Josh Quade, and this is my associate, Mr. Lynch.
“As I told you over the phone, I work for the Paranormal Surveillance Agency. Lynch isn’t part of PSA, but he does contract work for us from time to time. Do you mind if we take off our coats and talk for a while?”
As their father led his two visitors into the living room, Archibald and Jockabeb both took a hard look at Quade. Surprisingly, he appeared just about as they’d imagined he would.
Wearing a black suit, black tie, and white buttoned-down shirt, the six-foot tall PSA agent must have been about forty years old. Although he wore a suit, the boys could tell he was definitely fit, and his closely cropped haircut made them think he might have been in the military at some point. The deadpan features that defined his face weren’t remarkable in any particular way, other than his expression never seemed to change.
With no preconceived notion of what Lynch would look like, both brothers were leery of what they saw. Lynch was about the same height as Quade, and his tight fitting black turtleneck sweater emphasized a heavily muscled physique. His shiny bald head, wide nose, and square jaw looked like they’d been chiseled out of tan-colored granite.
The most defining feature on Lynch’s face was the jagged scar that began just under his right eye and ended at the corner of his mouth. The moment the boys saw the scar, they thought of Lucio, their departed Uncle Charlie’s good friend. While Lucio’s scar was about the same size and in the same location, Lynch’s seemed much more ominous.
Walking into the living room behind Quade and Lynch, Jockabeb poked his brother and whispered in his ear, “That Lynch guy is one scary looking dude.”
When everyone was seated, Special Agent Quade leaned forward and said, “I expect you’d like to know what’s so important that Lynch and I would come all the way from Langley, Virginia on a night when a blizzard’s moving in. Well, I’ll explain that in just a moment, but I first have to tell you that what I’m about to say is classified Top Secret. Also, all information that I’m about to divulge is on a strict need-to-know basis.”
Turning to the boys’ parents he said, “You, your wife, and your sons are cleared to hear what I have to say. However, I am going to have to ask your daughter to leave the room.”
When Tess threw up her hands and asked indignantly why she couldn’t stay, Quade responded, “The PSA just can’t take the chance that anything I’m about to say would ever get out. If it makes you feel any better, the subject I’ll discuss tonight is a matter of national security. And as we used to say in the Marine Corps, ‘loose lips sink ships.’ So, Tess, would you please leave the room for a little while?”
“How’d you know my name?” Tess asked suspiciously, remembering that her name had never been mentioned when the two men arrived.
When Quade answered, there wasn’t a trace of emotion in his voice. “We make it a point to know everything there is to know about friends of the Agency, and your two brothers are definitely our friends.”
“Why can’t I be a friend of your agency?” Tess pressed petulantly. “I’m just as—”
“Wait a second, Tess,” her father interrupted. “This is serious business. Special Agent Quade has every right to ask you to leave, so I want you to go to your room for a little while.” Knowing his daughter all too well, he added a warning, but with a smile. “Tess, your mother and I better not catch you eavesdropping. You got that, honey?”
“Yes, I got that,” she answered crossly. “I heard what he said, but I still don’t know why I can’t stay. I’m a member of this family as much as anyone else!”
Finally recognizing that this was an argument that she had no chance of winning, Tess finally relented, saying, “Okay, fine! You win.” Then she got up and stomped out the room, her head held high.
Hearing her bedroom door slam shut, Special Agent Quade got down to what he called “brass tacks,” proceeding to explain why the PSA needed Archibald’s and Jockabeb’s help.
The boys and their parents sat silently and listened to the details of a report that had been received at PSA headquarters in Langley, Virginia the day before. The report had come from a NASA scientist at Thule Air Base, located on the northwest side of Greenland, seven hundred and fifty miles north of the Arctic Circle. Shortly after the report arrived and was read by the PSA Director, the decision was made to form an emergency task force, or ETF, to deal with a “situation” that had developed near the North Pole.
The PSA had immediately contacted a sister agency, also headquartered in Langley, and requested that Lynch be assigned to the ETF. When it was decided that the ETF should also have several members who had previous personal contact with extraterrestrial beings, a number of files were analyzed. Four individuals were finally selected.
Turning to the boys’ parents, Special Agent Quade made a formal request on behalf of PSA and the federal government. “I’m asking permission for your sons to join the ETF. If it makes a difference, the one-armed man and the girl who helped track down and destroy the alien mutant five months ago will also be members.”
Archibald literally came out of his seat when heard Quade’s last statement. “You mean Meatloaf and Willow have already said yes?”
“Yes,” Quade answered, “but only on the condition that you two agree to serve with them. The one-armed man initially didn’t want anything to do with our ETF, but the young girl talked him into it, which seemed a bit strange to me because she was so standoffish whenever we tried to talk to her before.”
Jockabeb, who hadn’t said a word since the two men walked in the door, finally spoke up. “Yeah, I know why she did that. She wants to see my brother.”
“Put a sock in it, Jockabeb,” Archibald snapped. Then he turned back to Quade and asked, “So exactly what does being on this task force really mean?”
Special Agent Quade reached into his briefcase and pulled out an official looking form. Passing the form to the boys’ father, he said, “Your sons are obviously minors, so you and your wife will need to sign this release form. If you do, I’ll tell you what I can now. If you don’t, we’ll leave, and this visit never happened.”
When the boys’ father asked Special Agent Quade what information could be divulged without a signed form, Quade replied, “First, the ETF’s mission will require an immediate trip to Thule Air Base. Second, Lynch, two Navy SEALs, and three PSA scientists will accompany your sons, the young girl, and the one-armed man on what we believe will be less than a weeklong trip. Third, although I won’t be along, I’ll be monitoring their progress. And, fourth, I can definitely guarantee their safety.
“Listen, sir, we’ve done a deep background check on you and your family, and we know you’re an ex-Marine like me. We both love our country, and our country needs your sons’ help right now. While I can’t give you any of the classified details that your boys will be privy to if you sign the releases and let them serve on the ETF, I can tell you that the mission involves recent contact with what we believe to be an extraterrestrial.”
Archibald thought the odds of him ever joining the ETF decreased markedly when his mother pressed Quade, asking, “Tell me again why you need my sons involved in any of this.”
“Trust me on this, ma’am,” Quade replied. “If we didn’t need them, Lynch and I wouldn’t be here. The fact of the matter is that they, along with the one-armed man and the girl, are uniquely qualified for this mission. All four have successfully dealt with an alien creature. They’ve demonstrated their resourcefulness, and the four of them know and trust each other. Finally, the mainframe computer analysis we conducted back at Langley picked them out of the hundreds of files that were analyzed.”
Then the boys’ mother asked the question that was foremost on her mind. “If my husband and I sign these forms and my sons agree to join your task force, how can you ensure their safety?”
When Lynch spoke his first and only words that night, his steel-gray eyes didn’t blink. “That’s where the Navy SEALs and I come in. Trust me, ma’am, not one hair on the heads of your two boys will be harmed. On that you have my word.”
“When would we have to leave?” Archibald asked in an anxious voice.
Responding to the question he’d already anticipated, Quade replied, “Tonight. I have a driver outside who’ll take us to a plane waiting at a private airfield not far from here. If we leave in the next half hour, there shouldn’t be a problem getting airborne before the storm moves in. Too much beyond that, well, let’s just say that it could get dicey.
“Don’t worry about packing. We have plenty of clothes at Langley. You’ll need special cold weather gear where you’re headed, which we’ll also supply. All I ask is that you and your parents make up your minds soon.”
After Archibald and Jockabeb said they wanted to go, in fact pleaded with their parents to let them go, their mother and father got up and headed toward the kitchen, saying they wanted to confer in private before making a decision.
When the boys’ parents returned five minutes later, their father said the words his sons had been hoping to hear. “Alright, my wife and I have talked it over, and we’ve agreed they can go.” Then looking Lynch square in the eyes, he added, “You and Special Agent Quade both asked us to trust you. Well, you better keep your word, mister. If you don’t, you should know that this ex-Marine is coming after you. You got that?”
An almost imperceptible nod from Lynch signaled his understanding.
Ten minutes later, Archibald and Jockabeb kissed their parents and sister good-bye before following Quade and Lynch out the front door.
The Flight to Langley
The boys’ third limousine ride of their lives was much, much shorter than the two previous ones they took while visiting Aunt Claire in Manhattan. Twenty minutes after leaving their home, the driver pulled his black Lincoln up to the side of a private plane that was parked on the tarmac.
The plane’s two turboprop engines were running. The pilot looked a bit anxious when he gave a thumbs-up sign through the cockpit window. Seeing that the plane was ready to go, Quade announced, “Let’s get on board and in the air before that storm rolls in.”
On the way to the airport, Lynch had been seated in front next the driver. The mean-looking man from the unnamed government agency hadn’t spoken a word since his one statement back at the house, and he didn’t break his streak of silence during the three-hour flight that followed.
Once the boys were on the eight-passenger King Air propjet and had buckled their seat belts, they were each handed a thick manila envelope. The envelopes were sealed and stamped with red block letters spelling out the two words they’d heard earlier that evening: “TOP SECRET.”
Standing slightly hunched over so his head wouldn’t hit the low ceiling, Quade issued his orders regarding the envelopes. “I want you to open these once we’re airborne. After you’ve signed the statements inside swearing that you’ll never divulge anything that happens during this mission, you will need to read and finish the briefing papers contained in your packets before we land at Langley. There’s some background information on the Arctic Circle and the North Pole, together with a brief description of Thule Air Base.
“First thing tomorrow morning, you’ll get a formal briefing with the other members of the ETF. That’s when you’ll hear about what happened up in that frozen wasteland to warrant the actions we’re about to take. By the way, I understand your two friends from New York are being driven down to Langley as we speak.”
As soon as Quade finished his last sentence, Jockabeb’s thoughts were drawn back to the night they’d hunted the Ratweil and how quickly Meatloaf had moved when he hurled his Bowie knife into Shabazz’s forehead. It was a good thing, too, because the gangbanger was just about to return the favor. Not surprisingly, Archibald’s thoughts were on another person being driven to Langley that night—the beautiful girl who’d saved his life and stolen his heart.
Both brothers were jolted back to the present when the pilot shouted from the cockpit, “Quade, take your seat, we’re rolling.”
Seconds later, the King Air began taxiing onto the runway for takeoff. It was a bumpy ascent as the small plane flew directly into the teeth of accelerating northeast winds and a mountain of snow-laden clouds that would soon shut down operations at the airport they’d just left.
Seeing the worried expression on Jockabeb’s face as the propjet was buffeted by successive windblasts and rocked by a strong down draft, Quade leaned over and made a prediction. “My guess is that this will seem like a day at the beach compared to the weather you’ll experience at Thule.”
“Thanks,” Jockabeb replied, shaking his head and hoping that Special Agent Quade’s forecasting of Arctic weather would be just as accurate as when he called the Ratweil an extraterrestrial.
During the flight to Langley, the boys learned a lot about the desolate polar region at the northernmost part of the Earth. They were surprised to find out that the frozen tundra covering most of the Arctic was actually ice-covered ocean. When Jockabeb read that average winter temperatures dropped to around forty degrees below zero, he was glad that the PSA was supplying cold weather clothing because he didn’t own anything that could stand up to that kind of cold.
After reading about the Arctic’s polar night in winter and midnight sun in summer, Jockabeb kicked his brother’s foot and said, “Hey, it’s going to be dark the whole time we’re there.” Then he laughed and added, “That won’t bother your girlfriend since she sees pretty well in the dark.”
“Lighten up with the girlfriend stuff.” Archibald snapped. “I’ve spent less than six hours with Willow, and I haven’t seen her in five months, so she can’t be my girlfriend.”
Although the facts he’d just quoted were technically correct, Archibald silently hoped his conclusion was dead wrong. Either way, he’d find out the truth in a matter of hours.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were so sensitive about Willow,” Jockabeb apologized halfheartedly. Then, shifting the subject back to the Arctic, he asked, “Do you think we’ll see any polar bears?”
“I don’t know,” Archibald answered. “These briefing papers say there are lots of other animals that live up there. Some are small like Arctic hares, ground squirrels, lemmings, and ermines, but others are pretty big. Look on page seventeen, there’s a really cool picture of a herd of musk-oxen.”
Flipping a few pages forward, Jockabeb said, “Neat. Look at the picture of the caribou right below it. I read that those are just some of the animals that the roaming packs of wild wolves hunt.”
The moment his brother mentioned wolves, Archibald’s thoughts were drawn back to the wolves around Camp Bear Claw. He remembered the story of how Champ had been attacked by a pack of wild wolves, and how a group of hunters would have left the mangled dog to die if Mr. McClusky hadn’t come to the rescue. Then thinking of Ghost Rider, the white wolf that had been with them when they’d finally destroyed the devil cat, he said, “Yeah, it would be really neat if we saw some wolves while we’re up there.”
“But only from the air,” Jockabeb replied with a smile on his face.
As Jockabeb read on, he was particularly interested in the indigenous populations who had inhabited the Arctic down through the ages. When he learned that the present day inhabitants, the Inuit, were descendants of the Thule people, he looked up and said, “Well, I guess I know where Thule Air Base got its name.”
Both the boys had finished reading their briefing papers by the time the plane started its descent into Langley Air Force Base. The landing was much smoother than the takeoff had been. Fifteen minutes after touchdown, the two brothers were escorted to the barracks where they’d spend the night.
Before saying good night, Quade issued orders for the following morning. “In your room you’ll each find a large duffel bag containing toiletries, clothing, and other supplies you’ll need for the trip. We knew your height and weight, so everything will fit. Make sure you set the alarm clock. I want you dressed and ready to go when I show up at zero six hundred, and that’s six o’clock in the morning for you civilians.
“There’ll be a continental breakfast in the briefing room. After you meet the other members assigned to the ETF, you’ll get a classified briefing on the mission. By noon you should be back in the air heading for Thule. Oh, I forgot to mention that the shower room and head are just down the hall. If either of you have questions, let me hear them now.”
“Only one,” Jockabeb said, almost too embarrassed to ask. “What did you mean when you said there was a head down the hall?”
“It’s a toilet, airhead,” Archibald blurted out before Quade could say a word. “Haven’t you heard Dad use that term before?”
“No, I haven’t,” Jockabeb answered defensively. “Okay, so now I know. Anyway, that’s the only question I had.”
Quade’s final bit of advice before he turned on his heels and marched down the deserted hallway was, “Get some sleep. You’ll need it where you’re headed.”
When Archibald set the alarm clock for five o’clock, he turned to his brother and mimicked Special Agent Quade’s voice, saying, “I set the alarm for zero five hundred, and that’s five o’clock in the morning, you dumb civilian, you!”
“Yes, sir,” Jockabeb barked back, saluting and clicking his heels together. “And if you have to use the head in the middle of the night, be quiet. Remember, I need to get some sleep because I’ll need it where I’m headed.”
Operation Deep Freeze
Within a minute of the alarm going off the next morning, the boys were out of bed and headed down the hall to take their showers. Both of them were taken aback when they walked into the shower room and saw Meatloaf standing at the sink brushing his teeth.
Wearing only a towel that barely fit around his bulging midriff, Meatloaf looked like a beached whale with enough blubber to supply an Inuit village for a good long while. When he saw the reflection of their faces in the mirror, he turned and bellowed out, “Well, well, you two topsiders don’t look any worse for wear.”
After shaking hands, the one-armed man patted Archibald’s shoulder and said words that were music to the teenager’s ears. “You know, I didn’t want to have anything to do with this PSA deal, but Willow talked me into it. She said I owed it to her because it was her arrows that saved me from being the Ratweil’s third victim that night.
“If you ask me, Willow’s got a thing for you, but then again, you didn’t ask me, did you? By the way, she’s staying over at the women officers’ quarters, but you’ll see her when we all meet for the briefing in an hour.”
When Archibald looked down and politely replied, “It’ll be nice to see her again,” Meatloaf and Jockabeb exchanged knowing looks.
“Well, I guess we’ll just leave it at that,” Meatloaf said, nodding at Jockabeb and then swiping a finger across his lips as if zipping them shut.
The boys returned to their room after taking their showers. Not wanting to be late, they quickly donned the jumpsuits and baseball caps they’d wear to the briefing. A patch with the PSA letters and the agency’s insignia, which had a telescope encased in a ring of stars, was sewn onto the jumpsuits’ and caps’ dark blue fabric. Jockabeb thought he looked pretty cool as he looked in the mirror, saying, “I kind of look like a member of an emergency task force, don’t you think?”
“Why you’re the spitting image of Special Agent Quade, if I do say so myself.” Archibald answered with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
It was precisely zero six hundred when the real Special Agent Quade knocked on the door of the boys’ room. Ten minutes later, they walked into a crowded PSA briefing room situated three floors below ground. All but two of the people in the room were male, and many of the men wore military uniforms.
When Archibald saw Willow standing in the corner with her back to him, he began to worry as question after question popped into his mind. What should he say? How should he act? How did she really feel about him after all this time? Would they ever get any time alone together?
Willow had been talking with Meatloaf. The moment the one-armed man looked over and saw the two boys, he tapped her on the shoulder and nodded his head in Archibald’s direction. When Willow turned and their eyes met, she smiled. Then she mouthed the word “Hi” and began to cross the room.
Willow had only taken a few steps when her progress was halted by an older gray-haired man who, in a forceful voice, said, “Good morning everyone. For those of you I haven’t met, I’m Director Blair of the PSA. If everyone will take a seat, we can get started. I’d like the members of the emergency task force to come up to front of the room with me so I can make introductions.”
Quade told the boys he’d bring them some orange juice and a few Danish pastries. Then he added, “You should get up there right now. The Director doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
There was a long table at the front of the briefing room with eleven chairs behind it. Nameplates had been prepared for Director Blair and each of the ETF members. Archibald and Jockabeb quickly took their assigned seats directly to the left of the PSA Director and right next to Lynch and two rugged looking men dressed in Navy uniforms. A woman and two distinguished looking men were sitting directly to Director Blair’s right, with Meatloaf and Willow seated at the far end of the table.
The table, which was flanked by two speaking podiums, faced out toward six rows of chairs where the fifty or so people were rapidly taking their seats. A large screen was on the wall directly behind Director Blair. As the lights dimmed, the PSA insignia was projected onto the screen.
Switching on the microphone that sat in front of him, Director Blair began his remarks by saying, “Thank you all for joining us on such short notice. I know many of you had to rearrange your schedules, but when you hear this morning’s briefing on what we’ve code-named ‘Operation Deep Freeze,’ you’ll understand why that was necessary. However, first I think some introductions are in order.”
He then proceeded to introduce the three PSA scientists sitting next to him. Even though Dr. Susan Henderson, Dr. Hideki Watanabe, and Professor Werner Eberstark had been born in different countries and received their various degrees from different universities, they had one thing in common—all three were experts in paranormal activity.
Dr. Henderson was just shy of fifty years old. She was of average height and weight. Her auburn hair was loosely drawn back into a bun, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses accented her sharp, angular features. Director Blair said Dr. Henderson had grown up in Boston. She stayed close to home when she obtained both her undergraduate and master’s degrees from Harvard University, and also when she completed her doctorate from MIT. Willow felt a twinge of female pride when Dr. Henderson was also introduced as the ETF’s Mission Commander.
Dr. Hideki Watanabe was born in Osaka, Japan. He was about the same height as Dr. Henderson, and he also wore wire-rimmed glasses. However, that’s where the similarities ended. He was twenty years older, and he carried about thirty pounds more than his female colleague. His long gray-streaked black hair was gathered in a ponytail. Dr. Watanabe’s four degrees were all from Tokyo University, where he’d also served on the faculty before accepting a visiting professorship at Caltech.
Professor Werner Eberstark was the elder spokesman of the group. In his late eighties, the tall silver-haired, bespectacled old man looked like the stereotypical professor in his gray-tweed sports coat. Born in Frankfurt, Germany, he’d immigrated to the U.S. right before the beginning of World War II. While in Germany, Professor Eberstark earned his Diplom-Ingenieur from the University of Heidelberg. After arriving in the United States, he’d received advanced degrees from Princeton and Rice University.
Director Blair’s introduction of the three men sitting to the left of the boys was brief when he simply said, “Mr. Lynch will be in charge of security, and he will be assisted by two Navy SEALs, Lieutenant Otis Flint and Lieutenant Junior Grade Luke Adams.”
The PSA Director then moved on to the four civilians sitting on the panel. He began his introduction of them by pointing out that they were the only ETF members who’d actually come face to face with an extraterrestrial. Adding extra emphasis, he when on to say, “The two young gentlemen immediately to my left and the young lady and redheaded gentleman down at the far end of the table to my right have been chosen because they have firsthand knowledge of how to track and deal with an extraterrestrial.
“They found what our PSA team couldn’t find far below the streets of Manhattan. And when they were faced with circumstances that threatened their own lives and those of others, they demonstrated undaunted courage and amazing resourcefulness.”
Looking right and left at the ten-member ETF, Director Blair announced with pride, “These brave men and women will board a transport plane immediately following this morning’s briefing and fly to Thule Air Base. They’ll receive additional briefings at Thule. Weather permitting, they will then be airlifted the next day to a spot a few hundred miles from the North Pole.”
Pausing, Director Blair then started to divulge the most highly classified information, saying, “I’ll now tell you what we think they’ll be looking for once they get there. Our friends over at NORAD have been tracking an object that they first thought was either an asteroid or a comet.”
Seeing the bewildered look on the teenagers’ faces, Dr. Blair explained that NORAD stood for North American Aerospace Defense Command. He went on to explain, “It’s a joint organization we have with the Canadians to provide aerospace warning and defense for our two countries.”
Looking back at his audience, Director Blair resumed the briefing. “The closer the object came to Earth, the more NORAD and NASA scientists concluded that it wasn’t just a large hunk of rock, or metal, or ice. No, it was something quite different because it was emitting, and I will use layman’s terms here, electromagnetic waves in a definite pattern.
“Well, that’s when they called the PSA in. Dr. Watanabe was one of the first experts we contacted because he has dual doctorates in linguistics and physics. He is well known in the physics world for his work in quantum mechanics. As a result, we asked him to work with NORAD and NASA.
“After applying the Schrödinger-Katz Equation to the electromagnetic wave patterns, Dr. Watanabe was able to organize them into logical sequences, resulting in the discovery of an aphonic language. This is not a spoken language but rather a language that can be used for other forms of communication. We have designated it a ‘communications configuration’.
“You’ll hear more of the details later in the briefing, but the bottom line is that the message that was repeatedly sent from whatever was hurtling toward Earth included a statement and a question. The statement was: ‘This is a peaceful mission.’ The question was: ‘Will you send a small delegation?’
“Just before the spaceship, if it really is a spaceship, entered Earth’s atmosphere two days ago, we beamed a series of powerful electromagnetic waves directly at it. Using the communications configuration I just mentioned, we answered back, ‘Yes, we will.’
“Soon after our reply was sent, we lost contact with whatever or whoever was trying to contact us. However, based on the last contact we had, we know one thing for sure—the alien craft was headed for a spot near the North Pole.”
For the rest of the morning, the three scientific members on the ETF took to the podium to express their views and answer the host of questions that followed. Lynch fielded a few inquiries relating to safety measures that were being taken, including contingency plans should the ETF encounter any trouble. Even Meatloaf made a few comments on what had happened the night the Ratweil was killed.
It was close to noon when the briefing session ended. Half an hour later, Jockabeb looked out the window of a government van and saw the gray P-3 Orion turboprop that would fly him and the other ETF members to Thule.
Even though the P-3 Orion’s primary mission was anti-submarine warfare and maritime surveillance, Director Blair had commandeered the plane after pulling some strings inside the Department of Defense.
The ETF’s journey to the North Pole was now set to begin, and it would turn out to be a journey that would test human survival skills in ways that no one who sat through the PSA briefing that morning would have ever imagined.
Thule Air Base
Archibald had waited to board the plane until Willow arrived in the second van. Immediately after the briefing session had concluded, the emergency task force members had been split into two groups for the short ride to the waiting plane, so he’d barely had a chance to say hello.
“Do you want to sit together?” he asked as she stepped out of the van.
“What do you think?” she replied with a big smile on her face. Her next words erased all doubt as to how she felt about him. “Archibald, it’s been five months since I’ve seen you. Of course I want to sit with you. I just hope we’ll have time to talk.”
From the door of the airplane, Dr. Henderson looked at her watch and yelled down, “Okay you two, you’re the last ones left to board. We’re already running fifteen minutes behind schedule, so get a move on.”
Jockabeb had taken a window seat in the last row, reserving the seat next to him for Archibald by putting his cap on it. When Archibald arrived and saw that the only other empty seat in the cabin was next to Lynch, he leaned forward and whispered, “Do me a big favor and let Willow take your seat, okay?”
“You owe me one,” Jockabeb said as he stood up. Then seeing the person he’d be sitting next to on the long flight to Thule, he turned and added, “Now you really owe me one, and it’s a really big one!”
Once airborne, Dr. Henderson handed out box lunches and thick manila envelopes with briefing papers inside. After explaining that there’d be another oral briefing as soon as they landed, she reviewed the envelopes’ contents, emphasizing that everything had to be read before they reached Thule. “Go ahead and open your packets,” she began.
“First, you’ll see a series of aerial photographs of the base, together with some close-up shots of the facilities we’ll be using during the short time we’re there. As you’ll note, the whole complex isn’t very big. And, yes, there’s only one runway.
“Next, there’s a detailed history of the region, including all of the events leading up to the United States establishing the first military installations there in 1941. Even though President Franklin D. Roosevelt got the ball going when he signed an agreement with Greenland pledging to ensure its security, construction of the current Air Force base didn’t start until 1951. Needless to say, Thule’s building season isn’t very long, so it was a minor miracle that the project finished on time in 1953.
“There’s also a full listing of all the military commands and other government organizations that have occupied the base since it was first established.”
Laughing, Dr. Henderson looked over at the two SEALs and added, “While some of the civilians may skip over this part, I know at least two ETF members who’ll find this very interesting reading.
“The final pages summarize the chronology of all of NORAD’s and NASA’s interactions with the alien object they’d been tracking until they lost contact two days ago. There’s a lot of data in this section, and the information may be too technical for some of you. If you find that to be the case, you can just skip over it.
“Even though you’d hardly call Thule a tourist spot, it sits on North Star Bay and has some of the most spectacular vistas you’ll ever want to see. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see much of anything. That’s because it’s dark day and night this time of year. If we do a good job, maybe we can all come back next summer when there’s twenty-four hour sunlight!”
Dr. Henderson stressed again how important it was for everyone to finish reading the briefing papers before they landed. She then finished by saying, “The pilots have informed me that there’s some pretty rough weather on the way to Thule, and that they’ll do their best to bypass it so we have a smoother ride. That will probably add to our flight time, so it may take five to six hours to get there.”
“Oh, good,” Willow whispered. “That’ll give us plenty of time to talk. Let’s get our reading out of the way first. That way we won’t be rushed at the end.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Archibald answered, opening his box lunch. Seeing the roast beef sandwich with horseradish sauce, potato salad, and chocolate-chip cookie inside, he noted, “Do you know, this is our first meal together.”
“Bon appetit, mon ami,” she said as she opened her container.
“Do you speak French?” he asked, looking surprised.
“A little,” she answered, “but my German is much better. Koro speaks six languages, and he has taught some of them to several of the Moonlight Clan kids.”
Three hours later, Archibald leaned over and said in a hushed voice, “I’m not even done, but I’ve just about had it with these briefing papers. Plus, I can’t understand any of this NASA gobbledygook. How far have you gotten?”
“I finished about half an hour ago,” Willow replied. Seeing a surprised and somewhat hurt look on Archibald’s face, she quickly added, “I skipped over all of the NASA stuff, so that’s why I finished before you did.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Archibald asked, feeling a bit stupid that it had taken him so long to get through only about seventy-five percent of the briefing packet.
“Well, I didn’t want you to get in trouble with Dr. Henderson,” she answered. Then glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, she took his hand and whispered, “Okay, tell me all about what you’ve been doing. I want to know everything.”
It was non-stop conversation for the next two and a half hours. After Archibald thanked Willow for the blanket she’d sent him, the two love-struck teens took turns telling each other what had happened month-by-month since they’d last parted ways. Whenever anyone approached them, they’d quickly let go of each other’s hand. Once the person had passed, they’d hold hands again.
When Dr. Henderson announced they were beginning their long descent into Thule, Archibald leaned over to Willow and gently kissed her ear, whispering, “This has been great, but I really hope we can be alone sometime in the next few days, and I mean really alone.”
“Me, too,” she whispered back. Then she said, “I brought something with me that I thought you might want.”
“The blue feather, silly,” she answered. “You asked me to keep it safe for you, and I have.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “I’m really glad you remembered, but you keep it for a while.” Then he asked, “Hey, do you remember the magic words?”
“Are you kidding?” she quietly exclaimed. “I’ll never forget Meatloaf looking at the charging Ratweil, and then yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘Nito, Vito, Samu!’ I can’t tell you how good it felt to see that ugly thing finally explode.”
“You and me both,” he laughed.
Their conversation ended, at least for the moment, when Jockabeb walked up and said, “Well, I hope you two had fun. I sure did with ‘Loose Lips’ Lynch sitting next to me. You know, that dweeb hasn’t said a word the whole flight.”
“Hey, Lynch may not want to talk, and he may be a dweeb,” Archibald replied, “but remember that he’s here to act fast and protect us if something goes wrong. By the looks of him, I think he can handle himself pretty well in a pinch.”
After the co-pilot walked through the cabin and told everyone to take their seats and fasten their seat belts, Jockabeb saluted his brother and Willow, saying, “See you in Thule.”
The descent was anything but smooth, and the closer they came to the air base, the bumpier it became. While Jockabeb thought the turbulence wasn’t as bad as during last night’s takeoff from the airport at home, he was still unnerved each time the large plane was rocked by the winds that were growing stronger with each passing minute.
When the cabin lights were dimmed, it suddenly dawned on Jockabeb that this was the first time he’d flown without Archibald sitting next to him. That’s when a tidal wave of loneliness washed over him, and it didn’t help that he was far from home and heading toward a remote outpost built on frozen tundra that was shrouded in perpetual darkness.
Two more government vans were there to meet the ETF members once the P-3 Orion landed at Thule. It wasn’t snowing, but the Airman First Class who was driving the van Archibald and Jockabeb were in said a large storm front was forecasted to arrive the following afternoon. “We get plenty of weather up here,” he explained, “and this storm’s going to be a real humdinger.”
The first thing the boys noticed when they deplaned was that it was cold—a bitter, bone-chilling cold. The driver reported that it was forty degrees below zero outside, but the wind chill made it seem twice as cold. Then he added, “If you think this is cold, just wait!”
The ETF was escorted to a conference room where a hot buffet dinner was waiting for them. Choices were limited to beef stew or meatloaf, along with mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, and canned peaches. A broad smile appeared on Meatloaf’s face, as he made a beeline for the meatloaf on the buffet table. Once everyone had taken a tray, the Operation Deep Freeze briefing began.
Dr. Michaels, a NASA scientist, first updated the ETF on some recent transmissions received from a spot about four hundred miles south of the North Pole and five hundred and fifty miles from Thule. He handed a ream of paper to Dr. Watanabe and said, “While Dr. Watanabe deciphers what these new transmissions mean, I’ll tell you about some other developments.
“First, let me cover the weather. There’s a large storm on the way. Our weather forecasters estimate that it should arrive here mid-afternoon tomorrow. That means you’ll have to leave in the morning. We’ve arranged for a specially equipped CH-47 Chinook helicopter to depart at zero eight hundred.
“Since the Chinook’s air speed will average about one hundred and eighty miles per hour on this flight, it’ll take you about three hours to reach what we’re now calling ‘Checkpoint Zulu.’ The Chinook has been outfitted with extra fuel tanks and modified so it can operate in extreme cold. It will stay at Checkpoint Zulu while you try to make contact with the extraterrestrial or extraterrestrials, whatever the case may be.
“The reason I mentioned that there may be more than one extraterrestrial is that some of my NASA colleagues back at Langley have done some additional analysis of the electromagnetic waves they received, and it now appears that there were two slightly different wave patterns. I guess you could liken them to different accents if we were talking about a spoken language.”
Dr. Watanabe looked up from the computer printout he’d been studying and said, “Well, if I’m deciphering this right, and I think I am, the NASA scientists might be right. It could just be an idiomatic tic within the communications configuration that doesn’t mean anything, but the most recent transmissions from Checkpoint Zulu definitely translate into ‘We are waiting. Where are you?’
“As I said, you may not want to read too much into the word ‘we,’ but it does raise the specter of having to deal with two or more alien beings when we get to Checkpoint Zulu. And if that’s the case, let’s hope they’re friendly.”
During the briefing that continued for another three hours, the duffel bags from Langley containing cold weather gear were brought in and unpacked. A medical doctor then discussed how best to deal with the frigid temperatures and howling winds they’d encounter at Checkpoint Zulu. When he outlined the signs and dire consequences of frostbite and hypothermia, Jockabeb leaned over to his brother and whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on staying outside very long.”
As soon as the briefing ended, the eight male members of the ETF were escorted to the barracks where they would spend the night. Since Dr. Henderson and Willow were given a private room in a different building, it was clear that Archibald and Willow would have to wait for another time to be, as he’d said earlier, “really alone” together.