As soon as the line was disconnected he called his Chief of Staff’s cell phone. There was bar noise in the background. “Steve, get everyone into the office right now, we’ve got an emergency mission. I need plane tickets for tomorrow morning to Ohio. I need the media notified. Give Senator Walker a call at home, I need him too. Press coverage, I need press coverage. We’re going to blow the lid off this thing!” He smiled, knowing that something big was going to happen. For the first time in a while, his mission was clear.
Two weeks before the mysterious phone call. Johns-Hopkins University, Baltimore MD
“So in conclusion, HSLV uses several lines of attack against the host cell genome. First, it uses methyl-transferases to irreversibly methylate genomic promoter sequences thereby stopping expression of certain human genes. Second, it uses intronases to modify human genomic RNA before translation into cellular proteins. And third, HSLV uses integrases to write its own genes into the human genome, thereby utilizing the host’s own cellular machinery to create mutant proteins. The combination of the post-translationally modified human proteins, the inserted viral proteins, and the lack of expression of key human proteins leads to the visible symptoms known as Handel’s Syndrome. Any questions?”
At the request of Dr. Lee, Dr. Mensen was addressing a graduate seminar on virology. Interest in microbiology had skyrocketed since HSLV was isolated, and the number of applicants to Johns-Hopkins biochemistry program had more than tripled in the previous year. Dr. Lee had invited his colleague to speak to fulfill student demand for cutting edge HSLV information, and to give himself a bit of a break from the tedium of lecturing.
“Dr. Mensen, how many unique genes have been isolated in HSLV?”
“We originally thought that there were about five hundred genes, based on the amount of DNA present in the virus. But the more we look, the more genes we find. HSLV is very efficient and quite tightly packed. The proteins it forms are small compared to most human proteins with homologous function. The current estimate is about one thousand genes, of which we’ve isolated around two hundred.
Another student raised his hand. “Dr. Mensen, you say that your laboratory has isolated no less than forty methyl-transferases that attack specific human promoter sequences.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Isn’t that a little hard to swallow. I mean, one or two would be believable, but how could a virus develop that many host-specific sequences all at once? I mean, it doesn’t make sense. There should be a pile of similar viruses that have smaller numbers of human-specific methyl-transferases. There don’t seem to be any viruses similar to HSLV, yet this one is so perfectly tuned that it doesn’t make sense that it could have evolved unnoticed. Shouldn’t there be similar viruses with a less perfect fit?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“What I’m getting at Professor, is that, looking strictly at the morphology of course, it seems that the chance that such a virus would develop through natural, evolutionary means, is incredibly slim. What are your thoughts on Senator Johnston’s claim that the virus was engineered?”
Dr. Mensen chuckled. “Senator Johnston is not a biologist. He doesn’t understand what he is talking about. The people in this room all know about viral mutation rates and how quickly viruses adapt. All I can say is that ‘life is wondrous.’” Dr. Mensen waved his hands over his head in a mock celebration of nature. “It certainly would seem to the layman that it is impossible for such a virus to evolve naturally, but I ask you to look at other viruses, and other life-forms in general. The more we learn about biochemistry and cell biology, the more amazed we are at how life actually works. Is it possible that HSLV was engineered? Sure, anything is possible. Is it probable that HSLV was engineered? I’d have to say no. The amount of intimate knowledge that would be required to develop a virus as complex as HSLV is astronomical. It would take decades, if not centuries of our best scientists and our most powerful computers to develop something on this scale.”
“What about aliens?”
Dr. Mensen looked over to Dr. Lee, who was sitting in back, taking notes. “Dr. Lee, I thought that I was invited to give a lecture on viral morphology, not on science-fiction writing.”
The morning after Ray’s mysterious call, Wright-Patterson AFB, Dayton, OH
As with most military bases within the States, Wright-Pat AFB was not under any imminent threat of attack. The base guards performed a mostly ceremonial function. Right white glove to the temple for a passing officer, left white glove to the chest for a civilian. Pass, pass, pass. The perfunctory job is often performed by the low end of the totem pole, people who don’t have the smarts it takes to drive tanks or fold laundry. That may have been why the airman on duty didn’t know how to do anything but let the entourage pass.
And quite an entourage it was for that early in the morning. There were television cameras and vans from a dozen stations, a number of other journalists, local and state police officers, two Senators who had come along in support, a selection of scientists who advised the Senator on HS issues, and a few senate staffers that had been lucky enough to be allowed to tag along. At the center of this maelstrom was Senator Johnston himself. He moved purposefully, not like the ineffectual legislator he had become, but like the powerful intelligence officer he once had been. He rode triumphantly in the front seat of a black jeep. The airman didn’t even try to stop the convoy as it drove through the gates. It was too much for him. He simply went into his little booth and called his sergeant. The sergeant called the lieutenant, the lieutenant called the captain, and so on up the chain.
The convoy made its way across the base to its target destination. It was pretty obvious to those base personnel in-the-know where Johnston was headed, given his interest in aliens and HS. By the time he reached the hangar, a crowd had gathered. Word of mouth spread quickly around here. Some had come simply because they heard that a famous Senator was on base. Some came because they figured that there would be a ruckus of some sort. Some had come because they were bored with their menial tasks and could take this opportunity to slack off for a few moments. A few had come because they knew the truth. But, for whatever reason, there was a crowd of about a hundred people lingering around the entrance to Hangar 18 as the Senator and his media entourage came up the road. Some people even started to clap and cheer as the jeep came to a stop. Some people did not.
One of those clearly not in the mood to cheer was Colonel Hankerton, the base commander. He had gotten word from the front gate that a media frenzy was approaching. Col. Hankerton had gone through this drill many times before. Wright-Pat was used to dealing with the media for a variety of reasons. The base was often home to roll-outs of new aircraft, the hosting of summits, and other publicity-intensive projects. Occasionally people came by asking about aliens. Mostly kooks, but the base had a policy of always attempting to answer their questions as thoroughly as possible, without violating security of course. Hankerton had just been sitting down for his morning muffin when word came that Senator Johnston was approaching. The Colonel knew that there was only one place that he could be heading, only one place that could be of interest to him. The fact that the Senator had not called ahead and scheduled his visit was disturbing. It seemed that Johnston would not be satisfied with the platitudes and canned briefings that had persuaded the other members of the legislature to keep their nose out of classified Air Force programs. He had immediately straightened his jacket and drove to the hangar entrance. This party needed to be cut off, and cut off quickly.
Johnston didn’t even wait until his vehicle had come to a complete stop before dismounting. It looked great for the cameras. He strode up to the waiting colonel. “Stand aside Colonel, I’m going in!” he said in a loud voice. Over the years Ray had learned that if you sound convincing enough most people will get out of your way. Unfortunately Col. Hankerton was too experienced of an officer to be intimidated.
“Senator Johnston, it is an honor to meet you sir, I wish that you had called ahead, we could have prepared something.”
Johnston moved closer to the officer. Behind him stood two other senators, and, more frighteningly, a whole host of television cameras. “The evidence is coming out Colonel, you can’t stop it now. Stand aside.” Shouts came from the crowd.
The officer stood at attention. “Senator Johnston, I am obliged to inform you that you are currently in violation of the National Security Act of 1945, and that pursuant to that act I have the authority to use deadly force to prevent the disclosure of classified material to uncleared personnel.” Over the years, Col. Hankerton had learned that if you quote regulations in a convincing manner, most people will do as you say. The colonel motioned to a platoon of military police that stood behind him. They had their rifles aimed at Johnston and his party. They took a step closer and raised their weapons to their shoulders. “Do not make me shoot you Senator.”
The gathering crowd became silent.
“Look, Colonel, we’re fighting the biggest threat that humanity has ever known. Now, you know and I know what is in that hangar. We both know how long it has been there and why it has been kept a secret. This farce will continue no longer. I am entering that hangar with these folks here and we are going to open this place up. We are going to give the data to the scientific community, and we are going to find a cure for this thing. Damn your regulations. Now stand down!” He started to walk past the officer, straight towards the hangar doors. Guns didn’t intimidate Ray, he’d stared down the barrel of a gun many times in his previous profession.
Hankerton took a step back and re-inserted himself into Ray’s path. He quoted the lines that the base PA office had given him for just this sort of emergency. “Look Senator, I don’t know what you think that you are going to find in there, but I can assure you that there are not now, nor ever have been any extraterrestrial visitors or equipment on Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Now I again order you to leave my base!”
“Screw You,” was Ray’s reply. He shoved the Colonel out of the way. The officer fell over into the dust Cameras broadcasting the event live all over the world zoomed in on Hankerton as he struggled to get up. Ray walked forward amid a din of shouts from the crowd, which was now double the size it had been when the jeep had first arrived. “Give ‘em hell Senator,” “We’re with you!” “Johnston for President!” came from the people’s voices. Only one obstacle remained. Four military police trained their rifles on the Senator as he approached. Ray walked towards them purposefully. He was prepared to call their bluff. The men looked down at their commanding officer still sitting up in the dirt. They looked at Ray and his eyes, wild with purpose. They looked at the cameramen behind him, with their lenses trained on the MPs faces. Beads of sweat came down as they went over their orders in their heads. Then, one by one, they lowered their rifles. More cheers came from the audience. The MPs stood aside. They knew that this was bigger than they were. They knew that the secret was coming out. “We’re Real Americans too sir,” one of them said to Ray as he passed by. He smiled as he took a bolt cutter from an airman and cut the lock off of the door. He then headed inside, followed in turn by the journalists, the scientists, and the crowd.
The hangar consisted of one large room, brightly lit once the lights had been fully turned on. It was cold inside. The chillers that were attached to the building kept the inside air temperature just below freezing. Around the outside edge of the room were workbenches and desks that held papers, tools, and odd-looking pieces of equipment. No one had been inside at this hour. The engineers that worked in this secret place didn’t normally report for duty until later on in the day. Ray walked towards the center of the space without saying a word. Sitting there was a large, partially dismantled piece of equipment that could only be described as a flying saucer. It had no visible engines, but something about its shape just seemed to imply motion. Wires and piping extended limply from one side, where a section of the outer hull had been removed. Ray circumscribed the vehicle, giving it a good look over. He knew that he would never be able to understand its intricacies but he was satisfied that once the media had made its broadcast, the right people would gain access to this treasure.
After walking around the ship once, he meandered over to what looked to be a large vault of some sort. The group behind him had fanned out, trying to capture different images to sell to the papers. “Don’t touch anything, don’t touch anything,” cried the scientists and some of the military staff. Their calls and the footsteps of a hundred or so individuals on the concrete were the only sounds in the room. The silence was not just occurring here in Dayton, but all over the world. The images were being broadcast on a variety of news stations, and people everywhere had stopped what they were doing to stare at their televisions, not wanting to miss what was arguably the most important disclosure in the history of mankind. Years later children would ask their parents, “Where were you when Senator Johnston opened the vault?” in the same way that children once asked where their parents were they were when President Kennedy was shot or when man first walked on the moon.
Ray opened the door to the vault and peered inside. No one could see over him at first. For one brief moment he was alone with his knowledge. He just stood there for several seconds, unsure of what to do. In a way, he had hoped that he was wrong about all of this. He had hoped that the only secret that Hangar 18 held was some sort of experimental aircraft design. But what was in the vault made him shiver. He had been right all along. Everything he had said was coming true. The world was indeed under a grave threat. He moved back and allowed some of the cameramen to step into the doorway. The video they shot was grainy, but clear enough. As the cameras panned across the room, they revealed several tables. On each table was a being. They were clearly deceased, and some of the bodies had been damaged. But they weren’t as alien as one might think. Almost everyone who saw them recognized the features immediately. The bodies looked like human adults who were HS-positive.