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Sun-Hee's brother ran to the other side of the helicopter, pulling the ropes and releasing another rotor blade.

Lee hopped into the pilot's seat and familiarized himself with the controls, quickly identifying the various toggle switches and warning lights. He worked the pedals, feeling how stiff and sluggish they were. As he expected, there was no ignition key, just a master switch. He pumped the throttle to get fuel flowing and flicked the master switch. The hum of an electric pump was a good sign, bringing a smile to his face.

“Jump over the back,” Lee said to Jason as Sun-Hee's brother ran over to the cockpit. There wasn't much room behind the seats, but there was enough space for Jason to crouch down, sitting on a toolkit.

Lee flicked several toggle switches and brought the engine slowly to life. The exhaust spluttered and coughed. He kept the clutch engaged, disabling the rotors while the engine came up to speed.

“Halt!” came a cry from the motor pool.

One of the guards had a rifle leveled at them.

Lee worked with the cyclical control, revving the engine. He engaged the rotors. Slowly, reluctantly, the rotor blades began to turn.

A shot rang out.

Sun-Hee's brother had his door open, with one foot resting on the chopper skids. He fired his rifle in response. The guard took cover behind one of the trucks.

“Shoot through the metal,” Lee cried and Sun-Hee's brother responded, firing at the wheel arch. A body slumped to the ground, sprawling on the gravel.

Several other guards came running over from the barracks.

The rotor blades wound up to speed and began thrashing at the air.

White cracks appeared in the plastic dome of the chopper. It took Lee a moment to realize they were bullet holes. With the deafening roar of the engine, he couldn't hear the shots being fired.

He pulled back on the cyclic control stick with his injured right hand and his face contorted in agony. With his left hand, Lee worked the collective, adjusting the pitch of the blades as he increased the throttle. His heart leaped with joy as the chopper lifted off from the motor pool. A soft touch on the right foot pedal corrected some yaw, while a nudge of the cyclic counteracted a slight pitch to the right. For a moment, he was back in basic training. The sensation of hanging in the air, even if only a foot above the ground, had never felt so good. The artificial cyclone thrown out by the helicopter forced the soldiers back, kicking fine stones and debris into their eyes. Several kept firing, but Lee could see they were firing wide.

The helicopter gained height, clearing the huts and then the trees as they raced away from the camp heading due north.

“You are going the wrong way,” Sun-Hee's brother yelled over the noise as he fought to close his door. He pointed behind them, back to one side at the gates of the camp slowly receding into the darkness.

“I know,” Lee cried over the sound of the rotor blades beating at the air. “Believe me, I know!”

“Am I the only one that thinks irradiating the West Coast is a really bad idea?” Jason asked as the RV pulled up roughly fifty feet from the Learjet. He wondered how much sway he could have over a decision that had clearly already been made. “We're talking about millions of people being exposed to radioactive fallout!”

“Ah,” Lachlan said, getting up from opposite them at the table. “What we're proposing is more theatrical than actual. The jet has been modified so it can be piloted by remote control using the same technology found in drones. Think — Hollywood special effects! Big bang! Lots of flames! No actual damage.”

Bellum opened the RV door and stepped outside. Immediately, Jason could hear the high-pitched whine of the jet engines on the Learjet warming up. Lachlan and Stegmeyer were quick to follow, as was the driver.

Against his better judgement, Jason followed Lily out the door, making him the last person to leave the RV.

There was no hint of compulsion, no pressure on him to follow. The others walked away from him as though there weren't a doubt in the world that he'd join them. If it's reverse psychology, it's working, he thought. Whether he liked it or not, he was in too deep to back out now. Perhaps by going with them he could steer things in a more rational direction. And if this was all true, he had to see it. The chance to lay eyes on a craft from another world was a prize beyond compare. The implications were profound: there was another intelligent species in outer space, and it had made contact with Earth. Granted, this wasn't the First Contact he'd ever hoped for, but if they were right, it was First Contact nonetheless, and that was overwhelming to contemplate. First Contact represented a seismic shift for humanity. First Contact was a significant turning point in the 3.8 billion years life had existed on Earth.

Jason jogged over behind Lily and Lachlan, catching up to them. Bellum was already on board. Jason climbed the stairs of the Learjet with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. He'd never been on a private jet before and was intrigued by the lavish appointments in the small cabin. There was plenty of room for the six of them.

Jason and Lily sat in plush leather seats facing each other on the same side of the aisle. There was a small, low table between them. Lachlan sat across from them, clipping his seatbelt in place as the pilot closed the cabin door. Bellum went to the cockpit with the pilot.

As they began taxiing for takeoff, Lachlan said, “This plane makes the run to Portland twice a week for a mining corporation executive operating out of Albany. It's important that we blend in with routine activities. The NSA will be trawling public records for any anomalies that might tip our hand, so it's critical we stay in the shadows.”

The Learjet accelerated down the runway, lifting smoothly into the air.

Once they reached cruising altitude, Lachlan made some coffee in the galley as Jason and Lily talked idly. Jason found it strange to talk about mundane things, like the shape of a cloud or the small farming communities dotted across the countryside beneath them, but Lily was chatty.

“Latte?” Lachlan said, holding two cups and offering them to Jason and Lily.

“Thanks,” Jason said, taking the cup and sipping at the coffee.

Lachlan returned with a cup of coffee for himself and Stegmeyer, sitting down across the aisle from Jason and Lily.

Jason wanted to say something, but he waited as Lachlan sipped some coffee. Lachlan picked up on his anguish, and continued the conversation they'd started in the RV. Jason smiled. Lachlan picked up almost exactly where he'd left off, with little or nothing in the way of segue, as if there had been no interruption.

“Don't worry about the reactor complex. The main building is designed to withstand precisely this kind of attack. We'll be flying an unmanned Learjet into a twelve foot thick wall built out of reinforced concrete and steel. Nothing short of a fully laden 747 is going to make anything more than a scratch on the outside of that thing. That structure will outlast the pyramids!

“Now, if we were to hit the old dome that would be a different story. We'd punch straight through the shell, but the main building has been hardened on three separate occasions over the past fifteen years. We'll leave a nasty, ugly black scar, but not much else.

“The plane is carrying 1500 gallons of avgas in addition to the 900 gallons in the fuel pods. It's going to create a fireball a thousand feet high and bring emergency services pouring in from all across the city, and that's what we want. We want the world's attention on North Bend. We want federal investigators crawling all over that site, asking all kinds of uncomfortable questions.”

Bellum wandered out of the cockpit, clearly wanting to join the conversation.

“But,” Jason countered. “What about the law of unintended consequences? What if something goes wrong? What if the wall collapses? What if the fire spreads?”

“She's a class four reactor,” Lachlan replied. “The core is built on a gravity failsafe. If there's no power, the uranium rods sink back into their lead shell and the reaction is over. This isn't Fukushima or Three Mile Island. There's no chance of a meltdown.”

Jason didn't like it.

“Is this really necessary?”

“North Bend is a private nuclear power plant,” Lachlan replied. “They're answerable to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and no one else. It's the perfect cover for DARPA. The image of a glowing mushroom cloud billowing above a nuclear power plant will ensure there's no room to hide. They're going to have to open the gates to local fire crews, and that will allow us to drive straight through to the dome.”

As a reporter, April Stegmeyer added her perspective. “The media focus will cripple them. It will take weeks, maybe even months to convince the public the explosion was superficial and didn't damage any of the critical infrastructure.”

“Then after that,” Bellum added, “they're going to have to deal with every conspiracy nut in the country alleging that they're hiding the truth.”

“And they are,” Lachlan said. “Only the truth is more bizarre than anyone could ever imagine.”

“We'll leak the footage of our investigation,” Stegmeyer said. “Once we get inside that dome and get shots of you interacting with the craft, they'll have no way to hide. We're going to force their hand, force them to admit this to the public.”

“I hate to throw a wet towel over all this,” Jason said, resting his coffee spoon on the table in front of him. “But I don't know what you think I can do with this thing. I'm not even sure I believe you guys. Hell, for all I know, you're all crazy and this is some delusional group construct.”

No one answered him.

“No offense,” Jason added. “But look at this from my perspective. None of this makes any sense. Yesterday, I was just an average guy just trying to work his way through college. Today, you want me to believe I'm the key part of some international — no, interplanetary, or is it interstellar conspiracy?

“You're talking about committing a criminal act, a terrorist act! I don't see how you can justify this. Even if you're right and we get inside that dome and find a spacecraft from another star system, what the hell makes you think I can do anything about it?”

Jason looked around at Bellum, Stegmeyer and Lachlan. No one said what they were thinking, but he could see it in their eyes. They knew something he didn't, something they weren't prepared to tell him.

“I can't do this,” Jason said. “Listen, I've got family in Seattle. I'll head up there from Portland. I'll hitchhike back to New York. Or I'll call Mitch. He's always up for an insane road trip.”

“This isn't a game,” Lachlan said softly.

“You've got to tell him,” Stegmeyer added. Her voice was blunt, hinting of tragedy and heartache. Even before Bellum turned on the television mounted by the door to the cockpit, Jason understood the ominous tone of Stegmeyer's voice. Her few words resounded like the rumble of an oncoming storm. In that instant, he knew. His heart sank. Jason didn't know the particulars, but he understood enough to know something terrible had happened.

Lachlan nodded his consent and Bellum inserted a flash drive into the side of the TV.

The FBI agent picked up a remote and switched on the television. He scrolled through the stored memory, rewinding to a news broadcast they must have recorded earlier that morning. Lily rested her hand on Jason's knee.

Jason bit his lip.

“The manhunt continues,” a young, petite news reporter began. She was standing outside his apartment building, fighting to keep her blond hair from blowing in front of her face as she spoke. “Police have released photos of the suspects. They are considered armed and dangerous, and should not be approached by the public.”

Jason's driver's license photo appeared on the screen, along with equally bland and impersonal photos of Professor Lachlan and Lily.

“Investigators have told CNN that a large quantity of homemade C4 was recovered from a storage unit rented by one of the fugitives. It appears that there was some kind of falling out with co-conspirators Mitchell Jones and Helena Young that caused infighting among the terror cell members. During a heated argument that spilled out into the street, witnesses say that Jason Noh gunned down both Jones and Young. Jones died at the scene, while Young is undergoing surgery for a gunshot wound to the head.”

Bellum froze the image. A body was being wheeled away on a gurney into the back of an ambulance. The body had been zipped into a black bag, but scarlet blood ran down one of the aluminum legs of the stretcher.

“I'm sorry,” Lachlan said.

“Why?” Jason asked. His voice was barely audible over the hum of the jet engine. He ran his hands up through his hair, grabbing at the strands and pulling at the roots in anguish.

“Why them?” he asked again looking up at Lachlan with tears in his eyes. He held out his hands in a plea for mercy. “I don't understand. I thought you said they were working for those guys. Why would they kill them?”

“I'm sorry, son,” Bellum said, resting his hand on Jason's shoulder. “This is the major league. This goes beyond anything DARPA has ever done before. They won't hesitate to sacrifice anyone or anything to get what they need from you.”

“DARPA is sending a message,” Lachlan said softly. “That they're coming after us, and nothing will stand in their way.”

Lily unfastened her seatbelt. She sat forward on the edge of her seat, taking his hand. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. He knew what she was thinking. A soft squeeze told him all he needed to know. She hated this, he was sure of it. She was grieving with him.

Jason's head spun with the knowledge that his closest friends were dead, had been murdered because of him. Would he ever wake from this nightmare? He felt sick. Vertigo swept over him. He felt as if he were standing at the edge of a skyscraper, leaning over. A tingling sensation ran through his hands and feet. He wanted to get up, to get out of the plane, to be anywhere else. Sitting there trembling, he flexed his muscles trying to shake off the anguish washing over him.

Lily stroked his hand gently. She must have felt him shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her downturned mouth. She too felt the grief that had been omitted from the sterile news report.

A thin, black bag hid the heartache on that stretcher.

Hearing the tone of her voice, the reporter could have been talking about a lost puppy or an approaching storm, but not an entire life, Jason thought. He wanted to shout at the screen, to cry out for compassion.

Bellum turned off the television. The screen went black, but in his mind, Jason could still see the lumpy outline of Mitchell's body being wheeled away.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” Lachlan said, crouching down beside him and looking him in the eye. “You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this. You're caught up in something that's bigger than any of us.”

The professor got back to his feet. He was staring absentmindedly at his mutilated right hand. He seemed to be flexing three phantom fingers. The scarred stubs on his hand twitched and moved.

“They're afraid,” he added. “They've covered this up for decades now. The longer this goes on, the deeper the hole they dig for themselves. They're entrenched. They think they're protecting humanity.”

Jason wiped the tears from his cheeks, surprised by his trembling hands.

“In their minds,” Lachlan continued, “they think there's danger in this knowledge getting out. They're fighting to maintain the status quo while they try to figure out what the hell to do next. They're afraid one of these UFOs will materialize in Washington D.C. and they'll be defenseless. They're afraid of panic if the public finds out. DARPA is convinced this is a threat to our national security.”

“And you?” Jason asked, looking at his mentor with a heavy heart.

“I've always believed in you.” Lachlan spoke softly, adding, “You may not have been aware of me, but I've always been there in the background, fighting for you, and for what I believe is in your best interests.”

Jason watched as the old man swallowed hard before continuing.

“I never wanted it to come to this. I didn't want to endanger you, but I had no choice.”

“We're all in this together,” Stegmeyer added.

“We're doing this because we believe there's another way,” Lachlan said. “We believe the public will embrace this knowledge. We don't think there's anything to fear from the knowledge that we are not alone in the universe.”

Jason nodded.

Stegmeyer said, “They hold all but one of the cards in this deck.”

“You're our ace in the hole,” Bellum added.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Lachlan said, placing a thick folder on the table in front of Jason. “This is everything we know. You're welcome to look at everything.”

Lachlan signaled with his head and both Stegmeyer and Bellum followed him to the cockpit, leaving Jason and Lily sitting at the table.

Bellum sat down in the cockpit while Lachlan and Stegmeyer stood beside the door talking. They chatted softly with each other, but their conversation sounded forced, as though neither felt at ease. They were being polite, giving him some distance.