"That's right, I forgot." Twiste seemed to back things down a step by flashing something akin to a smile as he spoke. "You're a true believer."
Gant shook his head and replied, "Not exactly. I've just given up hope. Besides, I have enough on my plate. I am quite content being another cog in the machine."
"So questions would just make more work for you?"
They started moving again. The passage they walked came to an end a few yards ahead where it intersected another hall running perpendicular to the elevator corridor. A stainless steel wall stood on the far side. Several big, rectangular windows lined that wall, most with blinds drawn shut.
"I do have one question," Gant said.
"Wow, this is a first."
"I'm looking at that thing we bagged. It did not wear any type of clothing, was acting like a crazed animal more than an intelligent creature, and from what I can tell the boys downstairs haven't been getting anything out of it other than grunts and screams. To be frank, doctor, I do not understand how something like that could fly a spaceship across the galaxy. I expect my E.T.s to be more like little green men than hairless pink guerrillas."
Twiste rubbed his chin and told him, "I was talking with Franco earlier."
"My apologies."
"He said he overheard the tech guys who were hoisting the ship out of the trench. They said they didn't spot any signs of technology, at least not on the inside of the capsule. Nothing fancy at all."
"That does not make sense," Gant said.
"Watch out, you're thinking too much."
The major ignored him and went on, "Is it possible this was some sort of false flag operation? Maybe a drill?"
"Possible, I guess, but I've never seen anything like that tango we bagged, and it was alive, not some sort of orangutan in a suit. No, I have another theory."
They stopped again at the intersection.
Twiste said, "Think about the early space programs, both us and the Russians. I think the first living things in space were a bunch of fruit flies. Later on we sent up monkeys, and the Russians sent up dogs."
"Test subjects," Gant said. "I doubt NASA relied on fruit flies to steer the rockets."
"Right. Maybe the ship we recovered was sort of a test capsule. So far the pilot doesn't seem like a sentient, intelligent creature. Well, as far as I can tell without any real contact."
"Stop pouting, doctor."
"Point is, if this thing was a test animal …"
Gant completed the thought: "Then sooner or later the real thing is going to come for a visit. Assuming, of course, that they feel their 'test' was successful."
"Maybe they were testing some kind of warp drive or whatever it is aliens use for getting around the galaxy these days."
Gant's eyes narrowed and his head tilted as he hit upon an idea. "What if they were testing how we reacted?"
Before Twiste could reply their attention was pulled to an office window on the other side of the hall. The blinds there were half closed and the shut door should have isolated all noise to the inside of the office, but a particularly loud protest of one kind or another managed to send a muffled noise through the wall and into the corridor.
Through the glimmers of light between the blinds, Major Gant spied two-star General Albert Friez speaking on the telephone in his office. No, not exactly speaking. More like arguing, which was a sight nearly as incredible to the two men as the alien in the swamp nearly thirty-six hours before.
"You've known him longer than I," Twiste said as they both stared at the general as he walked around his desk, stretching the phone cord as far as it could go. "Have you ever seen him like that before?"
Gant slowly shook his head and answered, "Even when I've seen him mad I've never seen him like that. This is something new."
As usual, Friez wore his full dress uniform although he did not wear his hat, something he tended to do even when indoors and underground. It was as if the man wanted to hide himself — physically — behind the trappings of rank.
They saw Friez take a deep breath and straighten his shoulders, his body language suggesting that he had lost whatever argument he was engaged in, which was another oddity; General Friez rarely lost arguments.
"Okay," Gant said, suddenly thinking of something to do. "I've got to take a piss and I think I want to use the restrooms all the way over in Pylon B."
"What? Why all the way over — oh, I get it. You don't want to be nearby when he gets off the phone. You big chicken."
"Let's call it a survival instinct."
The major stepped to his left with the intention of making his way to the access tunnel connecting the twin underground buildings comprising the Darwin complex. The buildings were built like subterranean skyscrapers and were known as Pylon A and Pylon B. While the buildings ran perfectly parallel to one another, only a few levels offered crossover points, although the structures shared a common base at the very bottom as well as surface buildings at the top.
Gant had managed only three steps when he heard the office door open and General Friez call, "Major Gant, Captain Twiste."
He turned around and, as usual, saw Friez's beady eyes staring at him with a type of cold gaze that reinforced Gant's notion of being merely a part — a tool — in a large machine. He knew Friez saw him as an asset, nothing else. More thing than person.
They followed General Friez into his office, which felt more like a metal box. If not for the big window looking out on the hallway and another window looking in on an adjoining office, the chamber would have the ambiance of a morgue drawer.
The major did not suffer from claustrophobia, but every so often he remembered that he worked in what was essentially a deep underground high-tech dungeon. He had become accustomed to the steady drone of the ventilation equipment, the constant hum from the lights, and the stale-tasting air.
Many of the technicians, scientists, and soldiers working in the Darwin complex brought mementos from home (pictures, knickknacks, plants). Not the general. No photos from old units, no pictures with him and any one of the several presidents he served under, not even commendations for his years of service.
From a boring metal desk to similarly boring file cabinets to a small table hosting a coffeemaker, Friez maintained an atmosphere as sterile as the oxygen they breathed.
Major Gant and Captain Twiste stood in front of the desk, while the general sat. Normally Friez maintained eye contact like an alpha wolf dominating his pack, but it seemed a day for the unusual; he looked everywhere but at his men.
"Major Gant, your tactical team will leave tomorrow morning for the Red Rock Mountain Research Facility in Pennsylvania. You will report to General Harold Borman there. Written orders are coming over the wire for you shortly and will include an overview of load-out specs. You'll receive mission specifics from General Borman."
Gant noticed that Friez said Borman's name with more contempt than usual. Borman oversaw a variety of black box, special access programs at the Pentagon, but Gant could not remember a time when someone other than Friez appeared to be giving the orders.
However, he felt it unwise to broach that subject. Instead, Gant said, "Sir, we're still under quarantine protocols."
The general ran a finger over his thin and perfectly neat mustache before answering, "I'm convinced your team was not exposed to any dangerous contaminants or compromised during your last mission. I'm waiving the final hours of your confinement. Go home, relax for the night, and be ready to leave in the morning."
Twiste asked, "What's the Red Rock facility, sir?"
"As for you, Captain," Friez extended a slip of paper toward Twiste, who gazed at it for a second before accepting, "you are to report to The Tall Company's Moreno Valley facility."
"Sir?"
Gant saw Friez take a deep breath, followed by a fast exhale. He had never witnessed this type of body language from his superior officer before. He translated it as … reluctance. It occurred to Major Gant that Friez did not agree with Archangel's new assignment.