pilots, headquartered at Nellis, used the range to hone their skills so they could reach out to their worldwide network and attack with precision.
It was as if there had been a plan to even further isolate Area 51.
The Nightstalkers, under a different name, had been established at Area 51 when it became a hotbed of research and, as was inevitable, the scientists screwed up. Someone opened a Rift (scientists still don’t know what they are) and Fireflies came through (ditto on the not knowing). After many casualties and much consternation and blame, in 1948 a covert unit was formed to deal with Rifts, Fireflies, and the wide range of possible scientific misadventures, screwups, and accidents. The Nightstalkers
were not
formed, though, to deal with plots and counterplots within the US government. That was another unit’s responsibility, the Cellar, which Hannah ruled.
In fact, Hannah ruled an empire of Black Ops, of which the Nightstalkers were just one arm.
When Area 51 became so popular that tours were coming out on Extraterrestrial Highway—aka Route 375—to sit at the mailbox and stare at pretty much nothing other than a mailbox and a dirt road leading off toward a gate, it became time for the Nightstalkers to move to someplace less noticeable.
Still close enough to draw on the vast resources of Area 51 and have its support personnel based there, the operators moved into an underground bunker built below what appeared to be an old abandoned gas station. Actually, the bunker was built, thenan “old abandoned gas station” according to specifications was built on top of it. Not far from the Ranch was the Barn, which was the hangar for the Snake.
Ms. Jones and Pitr watched another screen as the top of the Barn, which looked exactly like an old abandoned barn, split open, landing lights flashing inside as Eagle guided the Snake down. A sign on the outside boasted: SEE ALL THE POISINUS SNAKES 75CENTS . Though it was unlikely that anyone could make it this far into the Ranch, if they did dare enter the Barn, they’d run into things far more dangerous than poisinus snakes.
There were always twenty-six security personnel scattered around the Ranch, secure in bunkers that were not only invisible to the eye but had thermal shielding. They were armed beyond to the teeth, because the teeth put one back to pre-caveman days. Armament included automatic weapons, Hellfire missiles, surface-to-air missiles, and the ability to call in cruise missiles and air support from Nellis. Of more practical importance, they could exercise deadly force more easily and legally than the contract guards at nearby Area 51 because the Ranch was on “private” land.
The doors shut on the Barn and in exactly eight minutes, because that was Nada’s Protocol for off-load, the team would come racing out of the Barn in a Humvee, with Roland in the gun turret, singing one of his songs.
Rumination over, decision made, Ms. Jones hit the button that killed all the screens. “Let’s give the Acmes a day to research this incident and Pinnacle,” she told Pitr. “If they fail to unravel this, I believe it will be time to talk to Hannah. Check on what the Acmes have discovered so far.”
The Humvee tore out of the Barn, Eagle expertly handling the wheel so that they cleared the closing doors by inches. Everyone was crowded inside. (Doc had once made the mistake of suggesting they get a minivan and no one spoke to him for a week.) Roland, as always, manned the .50-caliber, spinning the roof turret, more than ready to kill something. The security personnel always made sure they were deep in their hide sites when the Humvee came flying by.
It was quiet inside, unusual for a mission return, as if Roland’s attempts at high-spiritedness on the Snake had sucked their spirits dry. Moms looked over her shoulder from the passenger seat and caught Nada’s eyes. She raised her eyebrows in question and then nodded up at Roland, wondering when he would start
It was as if there had been a plan to even further isolate Area 51.
The Nightstalkers, under a different name, had been established at Area 51 when it became a hotbed of research and, as was inevitable, the scientists screwed up. Someone opened a Rift (scientists still don’t know what they are) and Fireflies came through (ditto on the not knowing). After many casualties and much consternation and blame, in 1948 a covert unit was formed to deal with Rifts, Fireflies, and the wide range of possible scientific misadventures, screwups, and accidents. The Nightstalkers
were not
formed, though, to deal with plots and counterplots within the US government. That was another unit’s responsibility, the Cellar, which Hannah ruled.
In fact, Hannah ruled an empire of Black Ops, of which the Nightstalkers were just one arm.
When Area 51 became so popular that tours were coming out on Extraterrestrial Highway—aka Route 375—to sit at the mailbox and stare at pretty much nothing other than a mailbox and a dirt road leading off toward a gate, it became time for the Nightstalkers to move to someplace less noticeable.
Still close enough to draw on the vast resources of Area 51 and have its support personnel based there, the operators moved into an underground bunker built below what appeared to be an old abandoned gas station. Actually, the bunker was built, thenan “old abandoned gas station” according to specifications was built on top of it. Not far from the Ranch was the Barn, which was the hangar for the Snake.
Ms. Jones and Pitr watched another screen as the top of the Barn, which looked exactly like an old abandoned barn, split open, landing lights flashing inside as Eagle guided the Snake down. A sign on the outside boasted: SEE ALL THE POISINUS SNAKES 75CENTS . Though it was unlikely that anyone could make it this far into the Ranch, if they did dare enter the Barn, they’d run into things far more dangerous than poisinus snakes.
There were always twenty-six security personnel scattered around the Ranch, secure in bunkers that were not only invisible to the eye but had thermal shielding. They were armed beyond to the teeth, because the teeth put one back to pre-caveman days. Armament included automatic weapons, Hellfire missiles, surface-to-air missiles, and the ability to call in cruise missiles and air support from Nellis. Of more practical importance, they could exercise deadly force more easily and legally than the contract guards at nearby Area 51 because the Ranch was on “private” land.
The doors shut on the Barn and in exactly eight minutes, because that was Nada’s Protocol for off-load, the team would come racing out of the Barn in a Humvee, with Roland in the gun turret, singing one of his songs.
Rumination over, decision made, Ms. Jones hit the button that killed all the screens. “Let’s give the Acmes a day to research this incident and Pinnacle,” she told Pitr. “If they fail to unravel this, I believe it will be time to talk to Hannah. Check on what the Acmes have discovered so far.”
The Humvee tore out of the Barn, Eagle expertly handling the wheel so that they cleared the closing doors by inches. Everyone was crowded inside. (Doc had once made the mistake of suggesting they get a minivan and no one spoke to him for a week.) Roland, as always, manned the .50-caliber, spinning the roof turret, more than ready to kill something. The security personnel always made sure they were deep in their hide sites when the Humvee came flying by.
It was quiet inside, unusual for a mission return, as if Roland’s attempts at high-spiritedness on the Snake had sucked their spirits dry. Moms looked over her shoulder from the passenger seat and caught Nada’s eyes. She raised her eyebrows in question and then nodded up at Roland, wondering when he would start
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