EXTRACT FOR
Silverdome
(David Mannes)

Afghanistan, 2010

"HOW MANY UN-FRIENDLIES are guarding the cave?" asked Captain Rick Gossett.  Gossett was the leader of this special coalition force searching for enemy supply caches in Northern Afghanistan.  His group consisted of four Army rangers, and four JTF2 Canadian Special Forces. They all wore light grey and green BTU's.

"Two, from what I see," said Canadian Corporal Tom Williams.  The soldier lay on the cold hard ground with a pair of binoculars propped in his hands.

"So, what's the plan, Cap?" asked Lieutenant Damien Wynter.  Wynter was in his late twenties. His cold blue eyes scanned the mountains.

"The plan is that our great sniper, Morgan, is going to shoot those two and we'll go in for a look see.  The rest of you, keep your guns ready.  We don't know who else is lurking around here."

"If this is a major supply cache, you'd think they'd have more than two guards," said Lt. Harold "Hap" Pennington, another Canadian soldier seconded to the team.

"You'd think so," agreed Gossett. "But we've been sitting here for two hours scratching our asses, and there's been nary a sign of anyone other than those two idiots.

"Maybe they don't think any Coalition soldiers would be stupid enough to be in the region on their own," said Sergeant Ken Smith.  

"Except us," said Leroy Benson, a black kid from Detroit.  

There was a light round of chuckling.

"Okay, Morgan, take the bastards out."

Morgan was lying on the ground.  In his hands, he had a C3A1, 7.62mm sniper rifle.  It was supported with its attached bipod.  He took aim through the scope.  A head loomed in view.  He paused.  Another head came into view. He gently pulled the trigger.

Tom Williams watched the two terrorists come together. One had pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket.  He gave one to his partner.  He leaned towards the other man; his hands busy striking a match.  It was then he saw their heads explode.  Both men collapsed as if they were marionettes, and someone had just cut their strings.

"Holy Shit!" said Williams," That was one hell of a shot."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," laughed Morgan.  

"Move out but stay ready.  We could still be going in hot," said Gossett.  The men moved swiftly but with caution.  The valley floor was littered with stones and a sprained or broken ankle would not be good.  They couldn't radio in for a Medevac.  

The cave had a wide, semi-curved entrance about ten feet across and fifteen feet high.  A small stonewall had been built as protection for the guards. On the right side near one wall was a small campfire ringed with stones and a couple of burlap bags that contained sacks of rice, bags of flatbread, and some jerky.  The second bag contained boxes of ammunition for the AK47's the guards had.  

Gossett turned to Whittaker and Williams. "You two stand guard. Take the vests of the dead guys and put 'em on. Hunker down behind the wall. From a distance, someone coming might mistake you for their comrades.  Morgan, set up a bit further back from the cave and keep an eye out."  

Morgan nodded and moved into the shadows.	



Wynter slung his M4A1 over his back and took out a Lumica Safety light stick and entered the cavern.  He activated it and held it above his head with his left hand.   He pulled out his Beretta M9 with his right. The stick was good for almost eight hours. Smith and Pennington followed.    The cave widened. 

"What the fuck is that?" asked Smith.

Damien looked. Four carved columns, maybe twenty feet high; two on either side had been carved from the stone wall. Looking up he saw a carved archway. There were circles and stars carved across. "Maybe this was an ancient temple or city at some point."  He took a couple of steps more than stopped. He cocked his head.  There was a low hum.  He paused extending his left arm and looking at the entranceway between the pillars. Something was reflecting from the light.

"There's something in there. Looks pretty fuckin' big too," said Smith.

"Well, shit, let's see what it is," said Pennington and he moved forward.

"Hold on Hap!" said Wynter.  But he was too late.

As Hap entered the archway he was lit up in a blue electrical web.  Hap screamed.  He seemed paralyzed as the blue flames danced over him, reducing him to blackened ash.

Wynter's heart was pounding. What the fuck? He could do nothing more than stand and stare.

"HAP!" cried Smith.  Smith unleashed his rifle and shot several rounds at the entrance, but other than flashes of blue lightning, nothing changed.

"Smith! Stop it! It's not doing jack shit!" yelled Wynter.

Footsteps pounded on the ground. Wynter turned.

"'What's going-on?" Gossett skidded to a stop and stared at the electrical web and the heap of black ash on the ground.

He examined the pile of ash but didn't stray near the invisible barrier.  Wynter lit another light stick.  Further back they caught the bronze glimmer of a triangular saucer shaped object. The object looked to be about twelve feet high. It was resting on tripod landing legs.

"It looks like some kind of ship," said Wynter.

"Whatever it is, I haven't seen any kind of technology like this before," said Gossett.  He turned to Smith. "We need to radio this in, then you and Wynter relieve the others."

Wynter was staring out into the dark night. The stars were a myriad of twinkling lights.  Smith had started a fire further back.  It was cold in the mountains. Word had come down to defend the cavern at all costs. More support was on the way.   Wynter heard footsteps behind him. Whittaker, Benson, and Morgan came up.

Anything?" asked Morgan.

"Negative," replied Wynter.

"You should grab some grub and some coffee. Gonna be a long night," said Benson.

"MREs are MREs," said Wynter. "I can wait."

The men took their positions.  Benson picked up some night goggles and put them on.  "Must be the loneliest place on earth," he said.

Light was starting to intrude its way into the darkness when Benson whispered to the others. "We got company."

The men were up.  Using their night-goggles, they could see human shapes moving towards the cave.  The human shapes were armed.  Morgan took aim and zoomed in with his scope. "This might discourage them."  He fired.  The suppressor on his rifle made a slight spitting sound.  Morgan saw his target fall and he shifted and zeroed in on the next. The enemy was looking around trying to figure out where the shot had come from.  He fired again and a man bending over his fallen comrade seemed to leap to the side and fall down next to him.  Voices shouted in the still night. Arms fire erupted.  The soldiers kept their heads down and watched the confusion.  Then they saw the enemy running towards them, yelling.

"They're asking for divine help, telling us they're under attack," translated Smith.

The men laughed and opened fire.  Bodies jerked like marionettes and fell, riddled with bullets.  

At some point, the enemy realized that the cave was occupied by others, and not their comrades. They took cover and started a bullet barrage at the cave.

"Fuckin' bastards!" spat Benson.  He lifted his head, planning to take a shot. He never got the chance. A bullet ricocheted off the wall and went through his eye and into his brain. He folded over and lay dead.

Smith opened up at a shadowy group edging forward. One went down and another staggered back. 

The firefight went on for almost an hour. Dawn came.  The men were tired, but alert.  They estimated at least slightly over a dozen enemies had come and at least half were dead and a couple more wounded, based on the groans that drifted in from outside.  The problem was reinforcements.  Gossett was sure a couple of men had been sent back and the support they'd been promised hadn't come yet.

"Check your ammo," ordered Gossett. "Don't fire until you have a clear shot."

"Any word on back up?" asked Williams.

"It's on its way, but still several hours out," said Gossett.

"They're keeping their heads down low," said Morgan. He swivelled his rifle and looked through his scope. "If I see a hair or a turban, I'm blowing it off."

Ken Smith took the picture out of his wife and kids that he carried in his shirt pocket.  He said a quiet prayer hoping to see them soon.  Smith had been in tight spots before, and he was always thankful for the life he'd been allowed to lead, and for his family.  He took a breath and stared out into the darkness.

Brian Whittaker had a leg cramp.  He tried to stretch it out as his eyes watched the landscape for any movement.  Next to him, Tom Williams lit a cigarette.

"Put it out, you want to give away our position? What the fuck is wrong with you!" snapped Whittaker.

Williams ground out the smoke. "Just need to relax a bit. Geeze."

"Something wrong?" asked Gossett.  He'd crab-walked over.

"Nope, nothing Cap," said Smith.

"OH SHIT! INCOMING!" yelled Morgan as he fired off a shot.  

Unfortunately, the shot came too late. While Morgan had hit his target, the terrorist had managed to fire his RPG.  

The rocket screamed into the cavern, sparks and smoke tailing behind. The rocket hit the deflector shield guarding the ship. A large explosion shook the cave, knocking the men over like tenpins.  Damien Wynter felt himself being lifted up and slammed against the wall. Air rushed out and blackness overtook him. A shot of blue electrical power fired out of the mouth of the cavern just as the jihadists charged.  Screams echoed in the night. The blue charge snapped and crackled around the attackers, turning them into charcoal. 

*  *  *  *

	

WELL AFTER DAWN, three MH Blackhawk helicopters thundered into the valley. The pilots noted the dark splotches on the rocky floor and set down.  "We're here," announced Colonel Sam "Gunner" Hayes, who was aboard the command helicopter.  The door slid open as several soldiers jumped out to set up a parameter.  Following them were three men.  One, a very overweight senior dressed in a navy-blue suit.  His hawk-like face scanned the surroundings, then zeroed in on the cavern.  Behind him came another man in his late forties with a coffee-coloured complexion and dressed in khakis.  The final person to emerge was a blonde-haired woman in a severe black pantsuit and heels. She appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties, but still with a trim figure.

Captain Gossett emerged from the cavern. He saluted the party and got down to specifics. "I need some medical aid for some of my men. We were under attack last night."

Hayes signalled to the second chopper. "Get the medic."  

More soldiers emerged and took up positions around the cavern.  They were all heavily armed.

Two men emerged out of the third chopper and looked as out of place as the obvious civilians.  The first was a husky dark-haired man in his mid-forties. Nick Constanza was an aeronautic engineer from DARPA and a graduate of MIT.  The second man was tall, middle-aged and bald.  Dr. Leon Krusyk was a consultant to the government. As a scientist, he had several specialties, including research into ion and anti-gravity engines.  Both men barely glanced around and walked swiftly to the cavern.

Damien Wynter formed a rear guard around the visitors.  They marched with purpose to the back part of the cavern.  Two special ops soldiers, carrying two long cases, and rolling a small generator, followed the group.  In minutes two large arc lights lit up the cavern.  The lights shimmered off the blue force field.  The two scientists moved closer for a better look at the craft.

"I wouldn't get too close," advised Gossett.  "It fried one of my men." 

"It's ok," assured Woodward. "They've seen this before."

"Say, Cap, that craft looks like the one I saw a few days ago."

The entire party turned and stared at Damien Wynter.

"What do you mean?" asked the hawk-nosed, fat old man.

"We were on patrol and got buzzed by this silver triangular-shaped craft.  I even snapped a couple of pictures with my phone."

"Can I see those, son?  What's your name?"

"Lt. Damien Wynter, Sir."  Damien opened the phone and brought up the pictures. He handed his phone to the old man.  The others huddled around him, peering at the small pictures.

Constanza looked at the picture, then up at Wynter. "You're right they are similar, but the one in this cavern is several thousand years old.  It's called a Vimana and there's a number of Hindu texts dating back to the fourth century before the Common Era that talk about them.  The Vaimanika Shastra, a fourth century B.C. text written by Bharadvajy the Wise deals with the operation of Vimanas and including mechanics and operation."

Wynter stared at the scientist, the moved his eyes to the ship beyond the force field. "Holy Shit!"

Woodward turned to Gossett. "Captain, we will secure this base. You and your men will have to sign non-disclosure statements for national security.  I will speak to your men before we let you leave."

"Understood, Sir," said Gossett.

Wynter moved closer to the field and peered at the Vimana.  Several thousand years old?  Then who built it?  And what about the object he saw.  His mind was filled with questions, but he suspected there'd be few answers.

Lawrence Cross watched Damien Wynter. There was something about the young soldier that could prove useful.  He made a mental note to do a background check on him.

Wynter scanned the area with his binoculars. There were no signs of the enemy. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

"At ease, soldier," said Captain Gossett. "Man wants to see you. Has some questions.  We'll be moving out in the morning. These guys are taking over."

"What are they going to do about that ship, Captain?" asked Wynter.

"Not our concern.  We have to sign non-disclosure agreements. This has become top secret. We will forget everything."

"Understood, Sir."

Wynter went to the back of the cave where the force field protected the craft. Technicians were setting up instruments.  Woodward and the man called Cross were sitting at a folding table. A laptop sat on it.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" asked Wynter.

Cross nodded. "Sit down, son."

Wynter sat on a folding chair that Woodward moved toward him.  "Yes, Sir."

"Your family has a history with the unknown.  You had a relative at Roanoke. Your grandfather was on the USS Eldridge. Your father encountered a UFO while at sea."

"How do you know our family history?"

"It's my business to know such things, son," replied Cross.

"What the hell is that thing, Sir?" asked Wynter, nodding at the ship behind Cross and Woodward.

"That is a flying machine, a spacecraft built around ten thousand years ago," said Cross.

"But that's, that's impossible," stammered Wynter.

Woodward smiled. "It may seem so, but it's not."

"At one time civilizations on earth reached quite a technological height.  They rebelled against their alien originators. Conflict rose and civilizations were destroyed. But there are remnants, which our department seeks and preserves, along with more recent other world discoveries, hopefully for a greater war that will not come," said Cross.

"Aliens?" asked Wynter.  He cocked an eyebrow. "UFOs?"

"You've seen a craft with your own eyes," said Cross. "You can't deny its existence, nor can you deny the existence of what you and your men discovered in this cave. The truth is that we are not alone in the universe Lieutenant. Unfortunately, the rest of humanity is not ready for the truth. It would rip the very core of our society to pieces. And so, we work in secret."

"I'd like to know more," said Wynter.  He glanced at the craft.

Woodward and Cross looked at each other.  

"What's your organization called?" asked Wynter.

"Majestic 12, or Majic-12," said Woodward.

"I'm in," said Wynter.