but the beam itself dissipates after a half mile. Very much a close range weapon that they use more against stationery targets. Also, the Stingrays generate a stealth field. It’s not like an F117; it’s not a passive stealth but an active one. The Witiko have a good handle on electronics and jamming. We’ll see how they work in practice, but our information from the California war says no one ever saw them coming. Could be a problem.'
Knox presented more bad news with photographs to match. 'The Stingrays have built-in stealth field generators, but the Witiko have designed stealth fields in north and south California, one at Beale Air Force Base outside of Sacramento, another just went on-line at the old Marine Corps logistic base outside of Barstow.'
Brett Stanton asked, 'What do you mean, stealth field generators?'
Gordon answered, 'The Stingray ships generate their own stealth capability but the Witiko have put together a system that, in theory, will allow all their ships in certain areas to become stealthy, as long as they have been upgraded with the right components.'
Trevor examined Knox's photos. One showed what could have been a massive, three-sided stereo speaker with sloped walls stretching dozens of feet into the air.
'What kind of strange alien device is this?'
Knox corrected, 'It’s not alien at all. It’s one of the PAVE PAWS phased array radar facilities. The US Air Force Space Command used to use them to detect missiles. The Witiko worked some of their high-tech alien magic on them. Now they emit what we’re calling a ‘stealth field’. Their human-built jet fighters and helicopters will have the same stealth capability as their Stingrays, as long as they’re within the radius of these generators, pretty much most of northern California and a nice chunk of the south.'
'Wait a sec,' Dante leaned forward. 'We won’t be able to see their planes coming on radar? Are you kidding me?'
Jon said, 'Our fighters won’t be able to get radar locks on enemy targets. We don’t think they can mask heat signatures, but we will be at a disadvantage in dog fights. The Cooperative’s human-built fighters will have a much greater stand-off distance. Could be a problem.'
'Then we work the problem,' Trevor grew agitated. He had heard bits and pieces for months now, but it seemed to be adding up to a bigger battle than he had hoped.
Gordon assured, 'It’s all very theoretical, of course. These stealth fields might not work at all. We just have to buck-up and see what happens.'
Dante shot, 'Easy for you to say. You won’t be flying in a jet.'
Trevor cut the confrontation off, 'We have people inside; people who want out. The Cooperative isn't the utopia this Brad Gannon paints it to be.'
Lori reminded, 'He’s spent the last three days touring The Empire trying to drum up resistance to an invasion. He even met with the religious tribunal. Why did you let him in?'
Dante answered for Trevor, 'Hey, the guy is a human being. Last I heard, we were taking in anyone who wanted to come over.'
'Enough,' Trevor brought the meeting to a close. As he spoke he made eye contact with everyone around the table. 'Jon, you’ve been working on plans for this for months. Coordinate with the stuff Gordon has lined up and let’s get ready. I’m going to put together an ultimatum, we’ll give them a few days, then we take care of this. Now let’s get moving. There’s a lot to do.'
Everyone gathered their papers and faded off toward the steps leading from the basement.
As he headed for the stairs, Trevor saw Anita Nehru and Omar standing in a corner talking. Or, at least, Omar talking and Anita not listening.
Trevor drifted over and asked, 'What’s going on?'
Over the years, Trevor heard all manner of sarcasm from Omar as well as excitement, puzzlement, and terror. Yet he had never seen an expression of such desperation on the man’s face. Worse, Omar spoke without a hint of his usual accent, suggesting a great deal of worry.
'It is Anita. She has not been home to see the family in three weeks. She has been working non-stop at Red Rock. She does not call. She does not tell us anything.'
Trevor studied the woman: vacant expression, her long black hair unkempt, bags under her eyes, chewed nails on fidgeting fingers. 'Anita, what’s going on?' Her tired eyes widened as if forcing attentiveness. 'Nothing. I’m fine. Omar is over reacting.' 'Over reacting? No, no, when have you been home last? When have you slept?' 'I sleep. I catch an hour or two at the lab.' Trevor jumped in, 'Maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard. What’s going on?'
'I’m not pushing too hard! Damn it, just leave me alone. I’m close to something, Trevor. I’m close. We’re making breakthroughs.'
He contradicted, 'I’ve seen nothing new out of Red Rock in a while.'
'You can’t put everything in a report. Some of it…some if it…'
Omar pleaded, 'You see! She is exhausted. She is not even thinking straight.'
Anita rebounded, 'I’m on to something, Trevor. Do you hear me? I’m on to something. Those…those…' her eyes glazed as her mind drifted back to the underground corridors and labs and containment cells at Red Rock. '… those things from Voggoth’s realm…I’m getting a feel for them… something to them…something… familiar.' 'She is talking nonsense! Trevor, you must do something.' 'Yes,' Stone agreed. 'Anita, take the next week off.' She reacted as if stung by electricity. 'No! I have important work to do.'
'It can wait,' he ordered. 'And if you can’t pull yourself away from your work to take a week with your family, then I’m going to place you on forced medical leave and make you go see a counselor or something. Got it?'
She slammed her mouth shut so fast the two men heard teeth click. Her eyes flared with anger for a long moment, to the point that Trevor felt uncomfortable. Then that anger faded. She placed a hand to her head and closed her eyes. 'I’m…I’m sorry. Yes, you’re right. I need…I could use a break.' Omar put an arm around his wife. Trevor said, 'I’m ordering relaxation and family time.' Omar smiled. 'One of your better orders, I must be saying.'
4. Invasion
Few aircraft appeared less aerodynamic than an Eagle shuttle. The front featured a pointy capsule with a thin window. To rear, a pair of engine baffles pushing hydrogen-generated thrust.
Like many of humanity's tools in the war, the Eagles came to Earth with one of the invaders and had been adapted for man's use thanks to the engineering genius of Omar Nehru.
Trevor occupied one of the two seats in the cockpit, the other manned by his personal pilot, Rick Hauser.
Hauser wore a pair of bulky goggles that tricked his eyes into thinking that he was the craft, not merely a passenger inside; a fusing of pilot and ship like nothing any human had experienced before.
While Hauser flew, Trevor stared out the cockpit window thinking about the coming battle now that The Cooperative had ignored his ultimatum.
Through that window he saw the ultimate example of confiscated alien equipment aiding the human cause. Thanks to the same anti-gravity technology that kept the Eagles aloft, the dreadnought Excalibur hung in the air two thousand feet above the blue waters of massive Walker Lake, Nevada just east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
The Excalibur presented an aggressive profile. The rounded lip at the bow of the rectangular behemoth marked the start of a flat top. The ‘tower’ section dominated the rear third, one side a gigantic aircraft hangar, on the other-to stern-terraced levels peppered with launch pads, gun barrels, antenna, observation windows, and more. A squat dome on the tower housed the bridge, or the ship's 'brain.'
Hauser eased the Eagle to a landing pad with little noise from the smooth engines. The shuttle turned and lowered with so little fuss that Trevor could imagine he road an elevator.
After touching down, the pad descended and the morning sun disappeared as a protective bulkhead shut overhead. Bright white lights illuminated a hangar complete with fuel hoses, technicians in gray coveralls, and a greasy floor. Had it been full of Chevrolets, it could pass for a corner garage. Trevor unbuckled his safety harness and stood. Before leaving he said to Hauser, 'You’re briefed, right?' 'Yes sir,' the pilot answered. 'We’ll be on
