MJ-12: Inception

6

Lt. Cmdr. Danny Wallace walked across Pennsylvania Avenue at a rapid clip, struggling to keep up with the two men in front of him while juggling their briefcases and paperwork as well as his own. Typical military, to have the guy giving the briefing haul all the stuff for the guys who would take the credit.

Ahead of him, Admiral Roscoe Hillenkoetter chatted amiably with James Forrestal, the United States’ very first secretary of defense — apparently, secretary of war was too, well, warlike. Hillenkoetter, Danny’s old boss from Pac-Fleet intelligence, was now the director of the Central Intelligence Group, successor to the now-defunct Office of Strategic Services and, rumor had it, the foundation of an even larger intelligence agency currently in development.

Danny presented his identification at the White House guard post — Forrestal and Hillenkoetter were senior enough to be waved through on sight — then once again increased his pace to catch back up with his superiors, who hadn’t bothered to wait. The two were making small talk as they strolled across the sun-dappled lawn on the way to the West Wing — when suddenly Forrestal stopped and turned to Danny.

“Commander, you rehearsed this like I told you, yes?”

Danny nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mr. Secretary, I’m quite prepared. Notes are all arranged.”

Hillenkoetter, dressed in a civilian suit that seemed to hang off his frame, smiled and put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You’re gonna do fine, Wallace. Just think of him as a regular guy. Actually, he’s probably the most normal man we’ve had in there since Lincoln. Easy as pie.”

Danny nodded and thanked his former CO, then turned to Forrestal, expecting to hear something similar. But he merely grimaced and kept up his purposeful pace across the lawn. Word at the War Department — er, Defense Department — was that Forrestal was as high-strung as they came, and seemed to believe that both budgets and Communists were running high surpluses these days. Not often you see a hawk want to cut military spending, but there you go.

Then again, tensions brewing with the Soviets were shaping up to become anything but a normal war. Folks around the office had started calling it a “cold war,” which made a lot of sense to Danny. It was better than a “hot” one, he supposed, especially for countries that want atomic bombs at their disposal — and even more destructive weapons in the works.

There was another security checkpoint, but eventually the three men were ushered into the White House’s West Wing and walked down a fine, well-appointed hallway, at the end of which was a woman at a desk. She nodded, rose, and opened the door, and ushered the men into… an oval office. The Oval Office. It was a plaster-walled room with a fine carpet underfoot, some well-appointed couches, and various paintings. There was a model of a jet-engine airplane on a credenza near the bookshelf, and a large portrait of the late President Franklin D. Roosevelt, looking over the room with a gentle smile and a keen eye.

And there, behind a huge, dark wooden desk, was a slight, balding man in spectacles, his feet up, reading a file folder. His suit jacket was tossed over one of the sofas and his bow tie was undone, but Danny could tell his clothes were first-rate. He looked, for all the world, like a successful haberdasher inspecting his latest order.

Of course, Harry S. Truman was arguably the most successful haberdasher in history.

“Ah, there you are, boys!” the President of the United States said as he stood. “Come in! Come in! Rose, let’s get some coffee in here for Jim and Roscoe. And…” The President stopped and walked over to a shell-shocked Danny. “Harry Truman. You are?”

Danny managed to put down the briefcases and papers on a low coffee table before saluting smartly, then taking the President’s hand. “Lieutenant Commander Daniel Wallace, Mr. President. It’s an honor, sir.”

Truman smirked. “Let’s see how you feel about that honor after we’re done,” he said slyly, motioning Danny to the center of the room. “Roscoe here, in particular, has been saying this is gonna be a barn-burner.”

Danny glanced over at Hillenkoetter, who looked amused. Forrestal, meanwhile, stiffened visibly. Danny knew both men understood the gravity of the situation — they just had diametrically opposite opinions on how to deal with it. And that difference, Danny considered as he nervously organized his papers for the countless time, maybe wasn’t a bad juxtaposition for a president to have among his top advisors.

Danny handed out three file folders to his audience, each with identical photos and reports. Forrestal and Hillenkoetter had already seen them, of course, but they’d likely want to follow along and answer questions as needed. A young Navy valet came in with a silver tray of coffee and cups, placed it on the table, and left, closing the door behind him with a secure click.

Danny really wanted the coffee, but nobody else went for it, and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first. So, he just stared at it sadly for a moment before launching into his report.

“Mr. President, I’m obligated to remind you, as well as Secretary Forrestal and Director Hillenkoetter, that the contents of this briefing, and the papers I’ve just given you, should not be shared beyond the confines of this room,” he began.

Truman’s eyebrows rose. “Hell, son, I know that. You’re in the Oval Office. Get on with it.”

His heart racing faster, Danny nodded. “Of course, Mr. President. We wanted to update you on our running inquiry into the anomalous phenomenon in the ruins of Hiroshima, which we first discovered in October 1945. We continue to believe it was a byproduct of the atomic bombing of that city. We continue to receive information indicating a similar phenomenon occurred in Berlin at the same time as the bombing — August 1945 — and while these reports are unsubstantiated at the moment, there’s enough of them to make us believe that it may be possible that Soviet-occupied East Germany, and thus the Soviet Union, may be developing their own project along similar lines.”

“A strange white light is wreaking havoc on the intelligence agencies of the preeminent world powers, and everyone’s worried that another country is going to beat them to the punch,” Truman said, chuckling grimly. “We figure out exactly what it is yet?”

Hillenkoetter cleared his throat. “Short answer: no, Mr. President. Long answer… well, that involves a lot of science and physics and no shortage of new ideas and experiments.”

Truman nodded. “But we got it out of Japan?”

“Yes, sir,” Danny said. “It took us quite a while, but we figured out a way to transport the phenomenon out of Hiroshima using a system of magnetic and electrical fields.”

“And where is it now?” Truman asked, peering over the top of his glasses.

Forrestal answered. “Nevada. There’s an old Army Air Corps auxiliary station called Indian Springs. It’s near a dried-out lakebed called Groom Lake, about a hundred miles away from pretty much anything. We’ve been keeping it there on an ad hoc basis, but at this point, we figured we might as well create something more permanent there.”

Truman reviewed the map Danny placed in his folder. “Who’s in charge of the nearest military installation?”

“We’re considering Bob Montague, Mr. President,” Hillenkoetter said. “He’s nowhere nearby — he’s just been put in command of Sandia out by Albuquerque — but we’ve worked with him on sensitive information before. Plus, he’s got the aircraft we’d need to travel to and from the base. I don’t see us driving out there a lot. Better to fly, anyway.”

“You trust him, Jim?” Truman asked Forrestal.

“I do, Mr. President.”

Truman shuffled through his papers. “So, we have an old Army Air Corps base in Nevada under the presumed command of a two-star in Albuquerque,” the President said, somewhat amused. “Approved. Now, I know you didn’t need my permission for that. So, why are you really here?”

Danny cleared his throat. “The light phenomenon releases minute amounts of energy. Fairly consistently, actually, even though it’s in small bursts. Between October 1945 and July of this year, we’ve recorded at least thirty-two such occurrences. We’re able to track them directionally when they do occur, and found up to a dozen aimed at various points around the forty-eight states, as well as other locations in Europe and South America.”

“I don’t suppose you could be any vaguer, could you?” the President scoffed. “Should I be worried? What kind of energy are we talking about here, Commander?”

“Well, like I said, it’s directional, for sure. San Francisco, Memphis, Mobile. We’re looking at an unusual mix of non-ionized radiation over an incredibly br—”

Truman held up his hand and cut in. “Now, just wait one minute! ‘Radiation’? A-bomb radiation?”

“No, Mr. President,” Hillenkoetter interjected. “Non-ionized, which means it’s not harmful. It’s the same kind of radiation that comes from the sun, or radio waves — just really tightly focused. I can get Vannevar Bush in here to brief you up on that if you like, sir.”

Truman shook his head, waving them on. “I shouldn’t have to tell you how strained our relations are with the Russians. You mention ‘radiation’ around here and I have a right to be concerned.”

“Of course, sir,” Danny said. “Moving on, we believe we know what’s happened to that directed energy. As you can see in your folder, we believe that energy has actually targeted… individuals, throughout the United States. And elsewhere. In fact, we’ve tracked down and recruited several of them for scientific testing.”

Frowning, Truman began to flip quickly through his folder. Danny began to talk, but Truman held up his hand once more to stop him. Hillenkoetter had warned Danny about this — Truman didn’t like being talked at when he could just as easily read for himself. He finally arrived at the right section, and his brow furrowed in concentration.

Several long minutes later, the President put his folder down on the table and leaned forward, his hands clasped. “If this were anybody else telling me this, gentlemen, I’d think they were pulling a goddamn joke on me. A strange white light of unknown origins is sending out energy beams and giving people, what… superpowers?”

“It’s not a joke, sir.” Forrestal said. “I know it sounds incredulous, but it’s really happening. These people have manifested extraordinary abilities — Enhancements.”

“And what exactly do you want to do with ‘these people’?” Truman demanded. “Are they US citizens?”

“Most of them,” Forrestal said. “Right now, we’re keeping them contained, studying them. And expending a lot of energy keeping them off Hoover’s radar.”

“Good. Make sure that son of a bitch doesn’t get his claws anywhere near ’em,” Truman said. “But what do we do with them after all that?”

“We want to use them, sir,” Hillenkoetter said. “Their enhanced abilities, Mr. President… well, they’re nothing short of extraordinary. If we can harness their power, we may have something on our hands on the level of another Manhattan Project.”

Truman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to turn these people into… weapons?”

Hillenkoetter shook his head. “No, sir. Assets. They’re patriotic Americans, or at least most of them are. If we can work with them, they may be able to help us. If we’re really going to have a cold war, then we’re going to need a different kind of soldier.”

Truman turned to Forrestal. “This doesn’t sound like your kind of idea, Jim.”

“It’s not, Mr. President,” the defense secretary replied, leaning back into the plush sofa. “Honestly, the Enhancements these people possess… I won’t deny that some of them are incredibly powerful. But that’s the point. There’s been virtually no testing done. We don’t even really know what we’re dealing with, and very few of these people have a real handle on their capabilities. They are walking liabilities and, under the wrong circumstances, could be profoundly dangerous.”

“So, why do I get the feeling you’re still in favor of this program?” Truman asked.

Forrestal grimaced. “On the one hand, our national security, I believe, is threatened by the very existence of people like this. Today’s cooperative civilian could become tomorrow’s criminal — or worse — with powers like these. In fact, you should know, Mr. President, that we have contingency plans in place for every individual we’ve collected, so that if something goes wrong, we’ll be able to—”

Truman held out a forceful hand. “I don’t want to know. I assume you’ll be able to handle whatever comes up. Move on, Jim.”

Forrestal cleared his throat. “Of course, Mr. President. Suffice it to say, I don’t fully trust these individuals, and I doubt I ever well. But our intelligence — good intelligence from the CIG — indicates that the Reds have their hands on another light… thing. Phenomenon. Whatever Wallace here is calling it. As for any individuals affected, we’ve intercepted some interesting messages between the East Germans and Lavrentiy Beria, Stalin’s security chief. Could be unrelated. Or…” Forrestal shrugged.

“…or Stalin may have a line on this like we do,” Truman finished. “He’s already trying to recreate the A-bomb. What will he do if he gets his hands on people who’ve been affected like ours have?” Truman closed his eyes momentarily, lost in deep thought. Then he looked over at Danny. “You’re the one studying this on the ground, Commander. You know this better than anyone.”

“It’s still early, Mr. President, but we’ve been working with them to better control their abilities, with varying degrees of success. Each one of the Variants — that’s what we’re calling them informally, sir — each one thinks about his or her ability differently. One woman believes she’s cursed, another man thinks he has psychic powers, and a third attributes his Enhancement to divine intervention—”

“Are they dangerous?” the President interrupted.

“The more we work with them, the less dangerous they become, sir,” Danny said. “The more control over these Enhancements they learn, the less likely it is that their abilities are accidentally triggered at the wrong time.”

Truman nodded. “So, we work with them and help them. And then, if they’re inclined to cooperate further?”

“We study them,” Danny said. “It’s important to determine how this happened to them and whether it’s preventable, or even reproducible. And if they’re willing — they are American citizens, after all — we can deploy them as assets.”

Forrestal leaned forward. “While this idea has my conditional recommendation, based on the cooperation of those involved and a thorough assessment of their conditions, I want to state something very plainly, Mr. President: I strongly recommend that these individuals be detained for the foreseeable future. We simply do not know where this energy has come from, why it has affected these particular individuals, how it will affect them, and whether there is any kind of ulterior agenda behind it all.”

This prompted a short bark of a laugh out of Truman, which seemed to surprise everyone else in the room. “Whose agenda, Jim? God’s? The devil? Aliens? Stalin?”

Forrestal persisted. “We simply don’t know, so I would prefer to assume there is one, until such time as we can determine otherwise.”

Truman shook his head in slight disbelief. “Well, Jim, that’s why I have you here. Now, meantime, I want this thing kept incredibly secret. I shouldn’t have to tell you what might happen if the general public, not to mention the Reds, got a whiff of what we were up to.”

Hillenkoetter’s eyebrows went up. “It’s already a top secret operation, Mr. President. Less than fifty people are involved.”

“Right, but what we’re talking about here is of astronomical… I mean, just the… plus, I see here you want to recruit one of the PAPERCLIP men, too. Not only are we harboring superhumans out in the middle of nowhere in Nevada, but you want to throw a disgraced Nazi into the mix. God help us all if people start poking around that Groom Lake base.”

Something suddenly occurred to Danny, and against his better judgment, he cleared his throat and spoke up. “You know, sir, we had that surveillance balloon crash out in Roswell, New Mexico. Caused a bit of a local stink. Someone reported that the Army Air Field there found an alien spacecraft. We were having a good laugh over it, actually, in the office.”

“Commander Wallace—” Forrestal began.

“Let the man speak, Jim,” Truman said. “What are you suggesting, Commander?”

“Well, sir, it’s just that this thing is already unbelievable as is. So, if we bury a little-green-men story at the bottom of all the secrecy, to put it completely over the top, maybe folks will dismiss it out of hand. There might be a few yahoos who’ll even take this alien business seriously, and that’ll lead them away from the Variants. It sounds ridiculous, but it could be enough to provide a legitimate distraction from our actual operations.”

Truman was stone-faced for a moment, and Danny realized he’d spoken out of turn and just put forth to the President of the United States a preposterous, potentially career-ending idea.

But then the President began to smile, and he looked over at Hillenkoetter, whose practiced calm was briefly broken with an amused grin, and then to Forrestal, who seemed to be suffering through a migraine. “I like it. What do you say?”

“We can make that happen, Mr. President,” Hillenkoetter said.

Truman rose, prompting everyone else to their feet. “Good. I’m going to need to read this over a few more times. I’ll be back to you in a few days with a final decision on all this. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, and Forrestal lingered in the Oval Office to go over other matters, leaving Hillenkoetter to lead Danny outside.

“Christ, Danny… aliens?”

Danny smiled and relaxed for the first time all day. “Well, if the secretary’s right, sir, maybe the little green men really are behind it all.”

That earned him a laugh from his boss. “All right. How many more to go?”

“Just one more that I know of,” Danny said.