Read Online Escape: Omega Book 1 (Omega: Earth's Hero) by Keith Latch - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Latch
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Give me a full report.” The mousy scientist, Stanhousen, that had elected himself head of the welcoming committee seemed to have the same hair stylist as Albert Einstein… which is to say is looked like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Short, just over five feet, with incredibly thick spectacles, and a rumpled lab coat, he was the clichéd scientist. While he knew Sally North to be a brilliant mind and well-suited for her position, men like Stanhousen made Hendricks a little more comfortable, as if looking the part was as important as the appropriate skill set.
“We’ve noticed distinct surges since yesterday afternoon, at approximately…” he seemed to be at a loss, glancing at his notes.
“Four fifteen, Dr. Stanhousen,” a young man in the entourage supplied.
“Yes, yes. At four fifteen, we noticed a small initial surge. At first, we considered it a systems malfunction, as it was only a slight fluctuation.”
“But something changed your mind?” Hendricks asked.
“Quite, general, quite. While we continued to monitor the project with the redundant systems, we took the main offline to calibrate and fine tune the monitoring hardware as well as take the opportunity to update code that had not been refreshed since our quarterly P.M.”
“P.M?” Hendricks asked.
“Yes, sir, Preventive maintenance. Every three months, we rotate through systems and perform needed reloads and corrections. We never leave the project unattended. With a backup of six systems, we’re able to perpetually attend to it as we go about maintaining the equipment.”
“We go through all that for something that has sat idle for years upon years?
Stanhousen looked perturbed at the question, but answered, “Yes, sir. That is our mission--to continually observe, record, and appraise the condition of the craft, no matter how large or how miniscule. To do that, we must be vigilant.”
Despite how tired he was, “Anvil” grinned. “Good answer, doctor, very good answer. Now, tell me what it was that made you decide your equipment hadn’t gone a little crazy.”
Stanhousen stopped then. They’d been walking a corridor with only minimal lighting. While Phantom Base had been constructed with at least a thought of comfort, this place, christened Hangar 99 in the late 1970s, had not. Still, the general was able to see the excitement on the scientist’s face. “General, let me tell you, without a doubt, we were thoroughly convinced by last night. Come, see for yourself.”
Hangar 99, a little dugout in the desert, was similar to Adaven in that it was clandestine from the very beginning. Instead of being dug into the earth, however, it was cut into a mountain. Housed in an inconspicuous section of Arizona’s Black Mountains, Hangar 99 was as solidly built and defensible as anything Hendricks had ever seen. During the 70s, when extraterrestrial fever had gotten to an all-time high, the powers that be decided that the infamous Hangar 18 and its mysterious contents were lucky to have not yet been breached. To keep the secrets of the crash of ’47 hidden, work had begun on Hangar 99. Built quickly, and in total secrecy--yet another project hidden on the government’s black budget--the “boomer,” as the craft for some reason was called, was moved to this more secure location. In Anvil’s opinion, Hangar 18 at Wright-Patterson AFB just outside Dayton was one of the worst places to hide something like this. While it was sometimes best to keep something hidden right under the public’s nose, spacecraft weren’t something that he thought fell into that category.
Since inception, the mission statement of Hangar 99 was simple: watch the little ship and see if anything happened. It was felt that all that could be learned from the technology had been and nothing more would ever come from it. NASA for all its expertise, its employees’ some of the brightest in the world, just couldn’t be tasked with overseeing this
“We’ve noticed distinct surges since yesterday afternoon, at approximately…” he seemed to be at a loss, glancing at his notes.
“Four fifteen, Dr. Stanhousen,” a young man in the entourage supplied.
“Yes, yes. At four fifteen, we noticed a small initial surge. At first, we considered it a systems malfunction, as it was only a slight fluctuation.”
“But something changed your mind?” Hendricks asked.
“Quite, general, quite. While we continued to monitor the project with the redundant systems, we took the main offline to calibrate and fine tune the monitoring hardware as well as take the opportunity to update code that had not been refreshed since our quarterly P.M.”
“P.M?” Hendricks asked.
“Yes, sir, Preventive maintenance. Every three months, we rotate through systems and perform needed reloads and corrections. We never leave the project unattended. With a backup of six systems, we’re able to perpetually attend to it as we go about maintaining the equipment.”
“We go through all that for something that has sat idle for years upon years?
Stanhousen looked perturbed at the question, but answered, “Yes, sir. That is our mission--to continually observe, record, and appraise the condition of the craft, no matter how large or how miniscule. To do that, we must be vigilant.”
Despite how tired he was, “Anvil” grinned. “Good answer, doctor, very good answer. Now, tell me what it was that made you decide your equipment hadn’t gone a little crazy.”
Stanhousen stopped then. They’d been walking a corridor with only minimal lighting. While Phantom Base had been constructed with at least a thought of comfort, this place, christened Hangar 99 in the late 1970s, had not. Still, the general was able to see the excitement on the scientist’s face. “General, let me tell you, without a doubt, we were thoroughly convinced by last night. Come, see for yourself.”
Hangar 99, a little dugout in the desert, was similar to Adaven in that it was clandestine from the very beginning. Instead of being dug into the earth, however, it was cut into a mountain. Housed in an inconspicuous section of Arizona’s Black Mountains, Hangar 99 was as solidly built and defensible as anything Hendricks had ever seen. During the 70s, when extraterrestrial fever had gotten to an all-time high, the powers that be decided that the infamous Hangar 18 and its mysterious contents were lucky to have not yet been breached. To keep the secrets of the crash of ’47 hidden, work had begun on Hangar 99. Built quickly, and in total secrecy--yet another project hidden on the government’s black budget--the “boomer,” as the craft for some reason was called, was moved to this more secure location. In Anvil’s opinion, Hangar 18 at Wright-Patterson AFB just outside Dayton was one of the worst places to hide something like this. While it was sometimes best to keep something hidden right under the public’s nose, spacecraft weren’t something that he thought fell into that category.
Since inception, the mission statement of Hangar 99 was simple: watch the little ship and see if anything happened. It was felt that all that could be learned from the technology had been and nothing more would ever come from it. NASA for all its expertise, its employees’ some of the brightest in the world, just couldn’t be tasked with overseeing this
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