Fly Me to the Moon

In the house of Colonel Sophia Origlieri, USMC...

The force of the explosion woke me and then I remembered that I was at home, finally at home, the nightmare dreams leaving me behind. I slowly moved in the bed, my back screaming in pain as my left arm pushed against the mattress, leveraging my tired body upright. My right arm reached for the walker next to the wall, giving support as my legs slowly moved down to the floor.

I wrapped my robe around and stood up in the darkness, the coldness of the wooden floor moving through my legs as I held my cane to my side.

I looked at the bedside clock. It was three in the morning, another lost night. My mind traveled back in time to the last day before I had been hurt, the roadside bomb destroying what had been my normal, leaving me with a new normal.

The next room over had my computer and I used the quiet of the night to keep me company as I powered up the machine to check my emails, hoping and then not hoping for an email from him. He hadn't been able to accept what had happened, leaving me alone to face the future by myself.

There was nothing, the inbox as empty as I thought my days were. A solitary tear moved down my cheek as I sniffled.

"Enough of this!" I said out loud. I was a colonel in the Corps, after all, difficulties notwithstanding.

I heard a shuffling behind me and turned. "Lieutenant, what are you doing up? It's too early to be awake. Go back to bed."

"Is that an order, Colonel?" The lieutenant moved closer, adjusting her own robe in the dimness of the room lit by the computer screen. "Would you like some cookies? I can bake some in no time. I can get the Aspercreme."

I thought about it for a few moments before shaking my head "no". "No," I said, "I'll just get up now for the day, thank you." I knew it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself, not so much for my injuries but for my personal loss of someone I thought loved me without limitations.

An hour later, I was showered and dressed, the lieutenant helping me, ready to face the coming day for the first time in months since the incident just outside Ghazni where the Taliban had stepped up attacks.

Together, the two of us drove to the Pentagon where I had an office I shared with two others in Military Intelligence. The lieutenant pulled the wheelchair out of the rented van and set it up for me; I slowly sat down in it and was quickly pushed through the early morning chill into the huge building.

I looked at my desk, one that I hadn't seen for three months since my deployment to Afghanistan. I idly brushed my Purple Heart, newly hanging from my uniform along with my other medals, mute testimony to the loss of my friends who died that day, the armored vehicle bearing the brunt of the explosion but not enough to save those with me.

"I'll get some coffee," said the lieutenant as she left me to myself in the room. I had become dependant on my aide since returning to the States, unable to do what should have been routine tasks but too stubborn to accept a medical discharge.

I powered up my computer and entered the seven passwords necessary to access the Pentagon intelligence network. A rustling near the door made me look up. Standing in the doorway were two Marine guards. "Colonel," said the sergeant, "nice to see you back."

"Thank you," I replied, embarrassed that my tour of duty in the Middle East had been cut short by the explosion.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" he asked, wondering how hurt I had been. There still were two angry scars running by my eyes and up through my hairline marring what I thought had been a pretty face.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. Do you think it will snow?"

"Yes, it's going to snow like crazy later this week. You decided to come in early today, it seems." He smiled, always seeming to having a soft spot for the woman sitting before him.

"No sense staying home, might as well get something done. I need to get caught up."

"Well, Merry Christmas, Colonel." With that, the two Marines left just in time for the lieutenant to arrive with a large coffee, three sugars and a plate of cookies.

"Look who I ran into... General Max Stanbery."

The introduced man quietly walked into the office, smiling. He was a legend in aviation circles, considered to be one of the best test pilots to ever fly out of Edwards.

"Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling?" The general waved me back into my chair. "Please, don't get up."

"I'm doing OK," I answered, lying as a twinge of pain arced through my right leg.

"There's going to be holiday dinner tonight. Would you care to go with me? I know it's short notice and all but..."

I thought about it and was going to say "no", wondering if it would break all kinds of military regulations to go out with a superior officer... and glanced at my cane leaning against the wall. "All right, thank you."

"I'll pick you up around 1800 hours, how's that?"

"Thank you. Are you sure?..." I asked, wondering why he was so interested in me.

"Sophia, I'll be the luckiest man there. See you tonight." He turned at walked out into the hallway and quickly disappeared from sight.

"Well, that went well," said my aide, sipping from her own coffee cup. "What do you want to do?"

"That was unexpected. I don't have anything to wear; I guess I'll just wear my dress uniform. What about you?"

"I don't think I've been invited."

"I'm not going without you, that's for sure. Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all."

"No, no... I'll be glad to go, I just thought..."

"What? I hardly know the general, aside from what I've read about him. One of the first to fly the Nighthawk and the Spirit and others no one will admit exist. He's a legend."

"See... you'll have a great time. I'm sure he's full of stories that will make your hair stand on end. Maybe we should go back home and get some sleep so that you're ready for tonight."

"All right, you're the boss." I shut down my computer and slowly stood up, reaching for the wheelchair.

An hour later, we were home and in bed, the alarm set for 1300 hours, leaving us plenty of time to get prepared for the evening's festivities.

*****

The general's aide rang the doorbell and waited, listening to the approaching footsteps as the lieutenant opened the door and invited him in.

"Good evening..." she said, looking for his name tag on his uniform.

"It's Jerry," he said, smiling. "I think we'll have a nice time tonight."

There were several clicks from my cane as I came from the library of the house I inherited from my parents. "Good evening, Lieutenant. Looks like there'll be a full car tonight."

"Yes, Colonel, and the snow's holding up and shouldn't arrive until tomorrow morning." He glanced at the wheelchair by the doorway. "Will you..."

"Not tonight, thank you." I put my arm out to my aide and we left the house.

I slowly entered the limousine and sat down next to the general, resplendent in his Air Force dress uniform. "Good evening," I said, "thank you for the invite."

"No, thank you for accepting. I've been meaning to see you for some time now but haven't had the chance, being out at Nellis most of the year." He patted my hand.

The automobile pulled away from the curb and headed to the evening's venue.

*****

We were two tables removed from the bar. Our aides were sitting at another table nearby but far enough removed for privacy.

"Sophia, I suppose you wonder why I asked you to dinner tonight. Several reasons, I guess, but most importantly, I wanted to meet you. You've made quite a reputation for yourself these last few years as having a sharp mind and I was hoping that you'd think about joining my staff. We're doing some cutting edge work where I'm at and I'm sure that you'd fit right in. It's a small group but very important to the future of the country."

In a way I was disappointed, hoping in the back of my heart that I had been invited because I was a woman, a desirable woman and not just an officer, even if a competent, no, a very competent one.

"General, I don't know what to say."

"At least give it some serious consideration. I don't think the Corps is going to send you back to the sandbox anytime soon. And I really want you."

At least someone did, I thought, thinking back to my AWOL fiance who left without much more than a "goodbye".

"I would handle all the paperwork," he said. "I guarantee there would be no problems. Look at it this way... Las Vegas is just a few minutes away... and I can show you things that people have only guessed about."

He was right, I thought. The ability to return to the war was remote, if at all. "What about my aide?" I asked.

"Package deal," he answered, "that is, if she wants it. Think about it, please."

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of salads, surprisingly good to the taste, and then the prime rib main course. I looked over at the table where the two aides were eating, deep in their own conversation, wondering if there was a marketing move being made there, too.

"How soon do I have to let you know?" I asked, having already made up my mind.

"Next week would be good, sooner would be better."

In deference to my injuries, he didn't ask me to dance but kept up a light banter, talking about his test pilot days and time in the first Gulf War.

*****

"Did you have a nice time?" I asked Linda, who was helping me undress for the evening.

My aide smiled. "Yes, I did. He was selling Las Vegas and the beauty of the West. How about you?"

"It was interesting. What do you think? You want to go to Nellis and be surrounded by all those flyboys?"

"I'll go where you want. From what Jerry told me, or what he didn't tell me, it's highly secret work and would be the most interesting thing we've ever done. I'm up for that."

"OK, we'll make the call Monday. Don't want to look desperate, do we? Ooo-rah!!"

*****

Once I had made my mind up and made the call, things moved much faster that I had thought possible. One of the things we had to undergo was a completely new series of mental evaluations which resulted in a promotion for the lieutenant to captain. We were surprised at how fast things were moving.

We made preparations to close up the house and two days later, a C-37 Gulfstream was winging us west to Nellis from Andrews. Linda spent most of the flight reading about Las Vegas and Nellis in particular while I slept in the rear of the plane, my seat reclined all the way back.

Hours later, the plane made its final approach to Nellis and landed smoothly with just a whisper from its wheels as it touched down. We moved from the Gulfstream to a Blackhawk for our next journey as we headed to Area 51, our final destination mostly a secret until just now.

An hour later, we landed outside a large hanger and as three enlisteds carried our bags from the plane, we left the plane and saluted the Air Force Brigadier General who surprisingly had come to greet us and reported for duty.

"Welcome to Groom Lake," he said with a smile. "Nothing you see exists and you've never been here." He laughed and slowed his pace to keep up with my slow gait. "I know you have a million questions but they will have to wait for just a bit. There will be a briefing after dinner and we'll go from there. Thank you for joining our staff."

We followed the general into a Humvee and he gave us a simplified tour of the closer buildings, finally coming to a halt outside a building just labeled with a large "6" by the door. The winter weather was comfortable to me, realizing that when summer arrived it would be quite different.

Entering the building, he led us to a series of offices, indicating one which would be ours. It was at a comfortable temperature and held four computers on two facing desks along with a coffee machine on a sideboard.

"Lieutenant Smith will show you to your quarters. After dinner, there will be a briefing, as I said, and then you'll be logged into the network here. I hope that we have a long and prosperous time together. Once again, welcome." The general turned and left us in the company of an Air Force lieutenant who appeared in the hallway.

The lieutenant saluted, introducing himself and then leading us to the next building where our quarters were located. I hoped I would not miss my house as I looked at the quarters I was shown, a ten by fifteen foot room with a simple bed and dresser. "The latrine's down the hallway and it's large so there should be no problem with having to wait. Is there anything else?"

"Where's the DFAC?" Linda asked, starting to get hungry, her body still on east coast time.

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't think about that. I'll show you, it's this way. Food is at 0700, 1200 and 1800 hours and is quite good. It's one of the few perks for being stationed here." He slowed his pace, remembering the cane that I had leaned on as I left my quarters.

A few minutes later, we entered a large empty room that had a little over a hundred tables. The smell of cooking food filled the air and Linda smiled. The lieutenant was right, the food did seem to be nicer that what was usual for a military base.

*****

That evening, the two of us were sitting in Linda's quarters. "What do you think?" I asked. "Did we buy into a big surprise or what?"

"I think it's going to be all right. The briefing should tell us what we're going to be doing and we'll know what the future holds for us."

"I hope my house is OK. I didn't really expect to be leaving it again so soon but I guess if it survived me being in the Green Zone it'll survive this. At least, no MREs for us."

"I wish that you had stayed in the Green Zone... I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"That's all right, Captain... look at it this way, you got this great promotion sooner than you would have pushing papers in the Pentagon."

I stood up, looking at my watch. "Come on, it's time to eat." We walked down the hallway to the DFAC and found ourselves standing in line with mostly Air Force personnel waiting for their food. The warm smell of roast beef filled the room and soon there were hundreds of people sitting and eating, laughing and talking. The tension that we two Marine officers had felt in Afghanistan was missing, replaced by something different, a new vibe that we hadn't seen in a long while.

"Mind if I join you?" asked the Air Force major standing next to us, holding his tray as we all headed toward an empty table.

"Please do," I replied. "I'm Colonel Sophia Origlieri and this is Lieu... I mean, Captain Linda Americo. I guess we're in the minority here, a couple of Jarheads with all you Wingnuts here."

"Well..." he laughed, "I guess so. Rumor has it that you were brought in by the old man himself from Washington."

"That's right. Should be interesting, that's for sure. Can you talk about what you're doing here? Just asking."

"I'm Major John McCandless. I was working on the B-21 Raider with Northrop before I came here. What I'm doing now I can't really say."

"Sounds like fun," said Linda. "We were in the sandbox for a while. At least until..." She stopped talking, realizing that I might not want to talk about it.

"At least until I got 'blowed up'," I finished. I took a piece of roast beef, dipping it into the juice. "This is good."

"How long do we get for dinner?" asked Linda.

"Well, that depends on what you're doing. Most of the time, you're finished by now but sometimes people get immersed in what they're doing and they go back to it after dinner and work through the night. It just depends on what you're doing, that's all. Me, I'm going to work late tonight."

Small talk continued for a while, the major quiet about what he was doing at the base while Linda filled the conversation with her adventures in the Middle East and some of what she had done in the Pentagon.

Dinner finally over at 2000 hours, we cleared our area and walked over to the briefing room. A few minutes later, several Air Force personnel entered the room and sat down until at last the major came in, smiling at us and approached the lectern at the front of the room in front of a large screen.

Introductions were made around the room, we being the only non-Air Force officers there. The lights dimmed and the presentation began with an overview of the base and its command structure until there was an intermission while we were handed a series of papers to sign, each one increasing the penalties for revealing what was to be discussed.

After everything had been read and signed, the presentation continued with a black and white film disclosing the site in central Utah. Linda's eyes widened, wondering if this was real or just a joke on the newbies. She looked around the room but no one was smiling; everyone had a serious look on his face.

And then there was the color video showing the craft in the hanger in the early '60s as technicians attempted again for months to enter. Finally, there was an up-to-date photograph of the approximately thirty meter ovoid ship in the hanger with a Marine guard posted at the entrance.

"Any questions?" asked the major.

"A million of them but most importantly what do we have to do with this?"

"You have a Ph.D. in Engineering so you have a sharp mind and we need some new thinking. What we've been doing hasn't resulted in much success and it's time to try something different. New broom and all, you know. After you've read the various reports we'll go over to the hanger and show you the craft."

The next three hours were spent reading the six inches of paperwork generated over the last fifty years until we finally closed the last binder and rubbed our eyes.

"Perhaps you'd like to wait until tomorrow?"

"No way. I want to see it right away." I pushed against the table and slowly stood up, the stiffness in my legs fighting me as I finally moved away from the others. "I'm good," I said to Linda, who had reached for me.

I could tell the major had misgivings about me, wondering if I was up to the rigors of Area 51 but deciding to let me make up my own mind about my new assignment. After all, the decision had been made by the general who must know what he's doing, I thought.

Twenty minutes later, the three of us, along with two Marine guards, were entering Hanger 17 where we underwent a pat-down that would make TSA agents blush. Going through three sets of doors, we finally entered the building's interior and the major turned on the lights. Seven spotlights shone on the craft, still clean after all these years as it levitated about a half-meter above the cement floor, silent testimony to the technology that had birthed it.

I walked over to the ovoid, listening for some sound, some indication that it was alive and not just a lifeless relic from the past. I reached out to touch it but stopped as the major quickly said, "Don't touch it! We don't know what that will do."

"Isn't it about time to find out, then?" I asked, leaning against the spacecraft and rubbing its smooth finish when a hum filled the vast room and the lines of an doorway appeared in the side of the ship. A moment later, it opened and I could see into the ship as it lit up.

"What the hell?" said the major, seemingly asking himself why no one had done something as simple as touch it all these years, the technicians always wearing gloves around it.

He quickly brought over a step stool and placed it next to the spacecraft, giving me the honor of being the first human to enter. I slowly climbed into the ship, followed by the major and then Linda; as they entered through the airlock, lights flickering on as they walked further.

"Oh, my God," I said as I entered the cabin of the ship, finding two dark long stains on what had probably been the frames of acceleration couches, the cushions long ago disintegrated. "Look at this..."