Area 51: The Reply-2 Read Free Page B

Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Science-Fiction, Historical, Fantasy, Espionage, High Tech, Unidentified flying objects, Space ships, Nellis Air Force Base (Nev.), Area 51 Region (Nev.)

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transferred the source numbers to the dialogue box and transmitted them.

    WHAT ABOUT TRANSMITTED DATA?
    Compton glanced at the other screen. More numbers and letters were still coming in.
    >THIS IS DSCC-10.
    I WILL FORWARD OUR TAPES AND COMPUTER DATA ONCE SOURCE STOPS TRANSMITTING.
    WE'RE STILL DOWNLOADING.
    >THIS IS NSA. . ARE YOU SECURE?
    Compton glanced over at Brillon. He was concentrating on what he was doing.
    Compton slid her hand under the edge of her desk. She felt the special switch the NSA had installed and flipped it on. It shut the center down from the outside

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    world by severing all links except the one she was using.
    >THIS IS DSCC-10.
    WE ARE SECURE.
    >ROGER DSCC-1O. THIS IS NSA.
    WE ARE DIVERTING RESOURCES IN YOUR DIRECTION TO VALIDATE AND ENSURE YOUR
    SECURITY.
    "I can't get the destination," Brillon said. "Somewhere southwest a long way."
    "Easter Island." Compton said it out loud before she could catch herself.
    "Jesus!" Brillon said. "It's the answer to the guardian."
    "Yeah, but I can't make any sense—" Compton began, but she was interrupted by a new message from STAAR.

    RECHECK SOURCE NUMBERS. WE HAVE NO PLOTTED STAR SYSTEMS IN RANGE ALONG THAT
    DIRECTIONAL TRACE. BASED ON POWER IT MUST BE WITHIN RANGE OF RECORDED SYSTEMS.
    Brillon was now looking over her shoulder. "That's because it's coming from a spaceship, assholes," he muttered. "It has to, to be that strong. It's not coming from outside the solar system. It wouldn't be that strong," he repeated,
    "nor could they keep it directional over a distance of light-years." He frowned as something occurred to him. "Who the heck is STAAR?"
    "NSA," Compton said, although she doubted very much that the pale blond man and STAAR

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    really were part of the NSA. Why else, then, would she be sending the data to both of them?
    "NSA? We work for the university."
    "Not right now we don't," Compton said. "Check the numbers," she ordered.

    Brillon grumbled something, but he sat down at his computer and did as she ordered. "Numbers are verified," he announced. "Whatever is transmitting is along that line." He cleared his screen and brought up a computer display of the solar system. "And I'll bet you my paycheck it's coming from a spaceship heading into our solar system on that trajectory. We've got to contact the university!"
    he said. "Professor Klint will be—"
    "We can't contact anyone," Compton said. She was speaking from memory, seeing the pale blond-haired man in her mind. "This data and this facility are now both classified and closed by National Security Directive forty-nine dash twenty-seven dash alpha."
    "Bullshit," Brillon said, reaching for the phone. He turned to her when he couldn't get a dial tone. "What did you do?"
    "We're sealed off to the outside world, except for the NSA and STAAR," she said.
    "Screw you!" Brillon said. "You sold out to the government." He stood, grabbing his jacket. "I'll drive and call it in on a pay phone, then. You people aren't going to pull another Majestic!"
    "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Compton said in a surprisingly calm voice.
    "Why not?" Brillon was tensed, his body leaning toward hers. "Are you going to stop me?"
    "No."

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    "Then screw you and your national security directive."
    "I won't stop you, but I think they will." She pointed to the ceiling. They could both hear the dull thud of helicopter rotor blades coming closer.
    "Shit!" Brillon threw his car keys down.
    Compton turned back to her computer and pulled up Brillon's display and looked at it for a moment before typing in a few commands. In a second an electronic green line reached out from the small dot representing Earth. It speared through space and intersected dead-on with a red circle.
    "Goddamn," Compton muttered. She looked up at Brillon. "Besides owing me your life, you also owe me your paycheck. The message isn't coming from a spaceship.
    It's coming from Mars!"

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Chapter 3
    The