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Posted on 04/24/2025 6:20:16 PM PDT by Lazamataz
Hey folks. Some time back I submitted the first few chapters of a book I'm writing (with an idea initially created by a friend).
I had a few reviews, but the one that I found most useful was a private email, outside of Free Republic, that started: "I made it to page 28. Not gonna sugar coat this... it was a slog. "
...and, frankly, it was. When I re-read it, it was almost horrible. No real conflict to speak of. Chapters that simply made NO sense to the overall arc.
So I re-wrote it. I punched it up quite a bit. I'd like your critique of it, but don't necessarily think that saying it sucked will help... however, keep it real. If you like it, say so, and why. If you don't, say so, and why.
Here goes.
----------------------------------------- Act I: Discovery and Secrets CHAPTER 1: THE DISK
“So what the hell is that thing?”
“We have no idea, sir. All I can give you is this video file and the operative’s observations.”
Deputy CIA Director Paul Gaines leaned back in his chair. “Alright. We need to secure the area. Ideas?”
“Yes, we have a few,” responded Jeff Lockhart, Gaines’ subordinate. “The best one is to claim the area is dangerous. Radioactive. Maybe call it a mineral deposit of some kind.”
“I like it. Who owns the property?” asked Gaines.
“Some farmer.”
“Get in touch with him. Declare the site a hazardous area, offer to buy it, and set up a perimeter,” ordered Gaines.
“Yes sir.” Lockhart turned and left.
Gaines rewound the video and played it again at half-speed. The screen showed a luminous disk, hovering about 20 feet off the ground. It was stationary, and black, white, and colored lights flashed on it, along with a series of geometric shapes. The videographer slowly circled the disk. Edge-on, the disc disappeared outright – it had no depth – but the back showed the exact same sequence of lights and shapes.
He wasn’t sure what this was, but it was a little similar to the UAPs – the Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon – that the Federal government had been slowly revealing to the public. Those disks, of course, were not stationary, and they performed aerial maneuvers that were impossible by any technology we were aware of. This one, being stationary, lent itself to far more exhaustive analysis. Whatever it is, Gaines thought, I won’t be mentioning this to anyone. Not even my boss. Not until I know what the hell is going on.
Jeff Lockhart was a Chief Operations Officer under Gaines, but he was not only a subordinate, he was a trusted advisor. They had weathered more than one political upheaval together and had learned to rely on one another completely. Gaines was skilled at navigating the often-perilous political landscape that the CIA had become and now was in charge of the Science and Technology division of the Agency.
=========================
Lockhart took the exit off the expressway and, using Google Maps, located the single-lane road on which the farmer lived. He quickly found the dirt road that served as a driveway leading to the farmer’s small house. This was not marked on the Maps application. He turned into the driveway, gravel and rocks clattering noisily and abrading the pristine black exterior of his government vehicle. He pulled into a spot next to an old Ford F150 truck, and he and his three colleagues walked to what they presumed was the front door. Two large dogs held back a bit, barking nervously and staying near the cover of a nearby weathered barn.
Lockhart rapped sharply on the door, and the weathered face of an older man peeked through the small window in the door. The man opened it a crack, with the security chain still attached, limiting the opening. “You the guys they were sending?”
“Yes,” Lockhart answered. “You’re Mr. Abbot? We have the results of our tests and an offer from the Federal government for you. May we come in?”
“Naw. I don’t rightly trust you goobermint types,” Abbot drawled, purposefully mispronouncing the word, “We can talk through the door just fine.”
“Fine,” Lockhart replied, his tone more of a scoff than a word. “We’ve discovered a very large radium deposit on that plot. It’s radioactive as hell, and will likely give anyone who gets too near a greater chance of getting lung cancer….”
“More chance than my Marlboro habit?” the farmer said, mockingly.
“Much more. We’re willing to pay you one hundred thousand dollars for an acre of land around the deposit. Is that fair?”
Abbot’s face registered surprise. “Yes, fine. Give me the damned documents to sign,” his eyes narrowed “….and that check I see you holding, Then get the hell off my property.”
Asshole, Lockhart thought, and shoved the quitclaim property deed through the space between the door and the jam. “Sign where you see the yellow highlighting. There…. and there.”
Abbot read the document closely, signed it and pushed the deed through the opening. Lockhart handed the check through the same space.
Abbot looked over the check, said, “Okay, good. Now go,” and slammed the door shut, noisily locking it behind them.
Lockhart drove to the interstate again, where a small convoy of vans and box trucks were waiting. He radioed them to follow, and they all went to the site where the luminous disk hovered. Luckily, no locals had discovered the phenomenon yet.
The CIA team got to work quickly, setting up a perimeter around the disk, and erecting a vision-blocking fence all around the acre of land they had just acquired. The site bordered the single-lane road, so they posted several white signs stating that the area was property of the United States government and, in red lettering, warning of severe consequences for trespassing. Nobody would get the chance to trespass, though: The site was to be guarded round-the-clock from this point on.
Lockhart stood in front of the disk again, its surface displaying a variety of colored dots and geometric shapes. Clearly, someone was attempting to communicate, he thought, but what? It looked nothing like any language he had ever seen. There were several agents, standing next to him, armed with various recording devices.
Lockhart turned, strode up to the next-in-command, and said, “This entire area is off limits to anyone without clearance. You have a shoot-to-kill order.” His subordinate nodded, said “Understood,” and Lockhart left.
=========================
After a brief trip to Washington, D.C. Lockhart entered Deputy Director Gaines office.
“Ah, there he is. Everything is secured, I assume?” Gaines asked.
“Yes sir. The site is buttoned-up. We own the land now, and we’ve set up a perimeter.”
“What have you learned?”
“Jack squat. About all we know for sure is that this thing is stationary, seems solid to the touch, and is flashing those lights.” Lockhart gestured to Gaines computer screen. “The same lights you’re seeing, The exact same patterns, no changes, but the entire sequence repeats over and over again.”
“Your impressions?”
“Someone is trying to say something. It’s clearly an attempt to communicate. But it is a language unlike anything else I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree,” nodded Gaines. “We’re going to need to involve other people. But here’s the thing, Jeff: I want to keep this under our hat. I want nobody else to know about this, except the very few people we have to involve. Your team, obviously, and maybe one or two people who are good at languages and translation. Here’s my take on it: You know those UFOs or UAPs that have been flying around our fighter jets and military assets? I think we may have actually captured one.”
Lockhart licked his lips. “Well, boss, I wouldn’t say we captured it, more like it allowed itself to be captured. Whatever it is, it involves some technology I have never seen before.”
Gaines nodded. He scribbled on a sheet of paper and handed it to Lockhart. “These are two guys over in the NSA that I trust. They’re pretty damned good at signal decoding and linguistics. Get them, clear them at an Eyes-Only level. I’m calling this project Zulu Blue. Don’t speak of this to anyone else. Not even the Director.”
Gaines was a veteran of the CIA, and as such, he knew that knowledge was power. There was no way, he thought, that he’d inform the Director -- the project would in all likelihood be taken away. He didn’t know what power or abilities this discovery would grant, but he knew one thing: He wanted control over them. If discovered, he could always claim that he was in the process of analyzing it and that he was planning to present the topic to upper management, only when it was fully understood. He smiled to himself. Yes, this will work out well.
CHAPTER 2: THE ANALYSTS
“Sir? Your visitors are here.” said Gaines’ office assistant.
“Show them in,” he responded.
A lanky man wearing glasses, and a shorter, plump woman came into the office.
“Nancy! Tom! Haven’t seen either of you in quite a while,” said Gaines, effusively. “Have a seat.”
Tom Mitchum and Nancy Hogan were long-term employees of the National Security Agency, and had a good relationship with Gaines for about a decade, when he was in the NSA. Both analysts sat down, and the male analyst – Mitchum – started. “It’s good to see you, Paul. So what can we do for you?”
“I have a project I’d like for you to work on. Problem is, I want it to be quiet work.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want you off the books. I want you to do some analysis for me and I want you do make sure your work is not traceable back to you. And I don’t want it discovered, what you are doing.”
“What kind of work?” asked Nancy.
“Translation.”
“Okay,” she followed up, “But why do this ‘quietly’? What’s the hitch?”
“Until we know what the hell we are dealing with, I don’t want anyone, not even my Director, to know what’s going on. See,” Gaines leaned forward on his desk, “This could be huge. Game-changing. Do I have both of your word, that you won’t share any of this to anyone?”
The two analysts looked at each other.
“Yeah, okay, Paul. We’re not going to get in any trouble, are we?” asked Mitchum.
“Not if I can help it, Tom. Don’t forget my position, I can ensure you are safe.”
“What about computer time?” Hogan brought up, “You already know NSA computers are very tightly monitored.”
“You’ll use our computers. I can conceal what you are doing a lot better here, than in the NSA,” responded Gaines.
She nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“So what are we going to be working on?” Mitchum asked.
Gaines turned his laptop around, the video of the object still playing.
“This.”
“What is it?” asked Hogan.
“N.F.I…. No fucking idea.” answered Gaines. “All we want you to do is translate what is appearing on it.”
“Are we going in person? Maybe see it up close?” asked Hogan.
“If you think it will help. Whatever you feel you need, you will get,”
“Let’s have a copy of the video,” said Hogan. Gaines typed a few keystrokes, inserted a USB drive into the side of his laptop, and hit one final key. After a few seconds, he removed the drive, and handed it to the pair. “Go. Get started,” ordered Gaines.
The two analysts stood up, shook Gaines hand, and as they were about to leave, Gaines mentioned “By the way, this is code-named project Zulu Blue. Only speak with people cleared to that level.” They nodded in acknowledgment, then left.
When they were in the elevator, Hogan said to Mitchum, “What do you think?”
“Crazy. But let’s see what we can make of it.”
Hogan frowned. “I’m really worried about the secretive nature of this project. Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to …”, she hesitated, “… I mean, the CIA is an agency where secrets are the rule, not the exception, but I don’t like that the Director won’t know anything about it.”
“Yeah,” Mitchum responded, “but Paul said he’s protect us. I believe him.”
Hogan’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, but does he even have that kind of power? This is the Director we’d be pissing off… if we are found out.”
“I know. But how far back do we go with Paul? I’m willing to take a gamble.”
“Alright. Let’s hear from him where we will be working, and we can start this,” she concluded.
Something just didn’t sit right with Hogan. She remained leery, but she was willing to start the work. Within a day, an encrypted message was delivered to the analysts that they were to report to a secure black site. It was an unassuming, plain building, with no windows and a single unmarked door. They both got to work.
=========================
Paul Gaines had always been an ambitious man. This drive and ambition is what got him to the Deputy Director’s position in the CIA. Yet, no matter how high up the career ladder he climbed, it never seemed to be enough. There was always another brass ring to grab, there was always a need to acquire more power. Money was never a concern to Gaines, because he had realized as a very young man, that power was the pinnacle of achievement. A man could always trade a little power for a lot of money. No, it was power he craved: Power, and power alone.
Gaines realized from the outset that this project, this initiative, the investigation of this odd disk, might very well be the ticket to unlimited power. If he could control the investigation and keep it for himself, and if these disk was truly of extraterrestrial origin – something that he suspected = that this might be the pathway towards nearly unlimited power. If he could get access to off-world, alien technology there was no limit to what he could do. The power he could achieve could transcend entire nations.
Yet, he thought to himself, there was no realistic way he could do this all alone. He’d need allies. He’d need to build a trusted network. But who?
Gaines previously had a few conversations with the Vice President, who had expressed a lot of concern and disagreement with his running mate, President Talbot. Maybe he could parley that disagreement into something a little more useful to him?
Two miles from Gaines’ office, Hogan and Mitchum had begun work on decoding the language in which this object was trying to communicate. It had become immensely frustrating. There were colored dots, black and white dots, and none of it seemed to align with a grammar or a syntax they had ever encountered.
A week passed. Little progress was made. Gaines wanted a report on where they were. He came to the black site and strode into the analysis room, startling the pair, who were deep into their work.
“Hey team,” Gaines said, “So how’s it going?”
Mitchum looked up. “Slow.”
A slight frown momentarily appeared on Gaines’ face. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked, already aware that he couldn’t.
“No, Paul. We just have to keep trying. I’m not entirely sure this is a pure translation job, I’m almost wondering if there isn’t a level of encryption too.”
Gaines replied, “Well, when you are a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”
Hogan spoke up. “When we get somewhere, we bring the results to you, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m… I don’t know. Paul, we are friends, but….who else knows about this? Has the President been briefed? At all?”
“Not yet. I want to be able to bring him something solid,” Gaines replied, “Something more than what we have so far. You don’t come to the boss with half the facts.” Hogan tried to keep her face expressionless. His response only served to fuel her nagging doubts. Half the facts, she thought, internally scoffing. There was one fact that was pretty clear: The President should know.
“Okay,” she said, with a forced smile, “This project has to yield some sort of results soon….. I mean, it’s got to. We’ll…” her voice trailed off.
Gaines noticed her trepidation. I hope she’s fully on-board, he thought. “Look, I know you guys are working hard on this, but we need some progress….fast. If there is anything you need, anything at all, contact me by the usual channel.” He turned and left the room.
CHAPTER 3: WHISPERS AND PLOTS
Gaines left. The tension in the room decreased markedly. Not even the President was being briefed, thought Hogan. That is just… unacceptable. She kept her face free of emotion. Mitchum was far more trusting, and didn’t seem to share her doubts.
She kept working with her peer on this project, all the while half-questioning if she should let someone know. The President should be informed. Her loyalty was to America, not Paul Gaines. Maybe she could contact her friend, Donna McPherson, who was an aide at the White House. But how? Certainly Gaines was keeping both her and Mitchum under constant and comprehensive surveillance.
Normal direct channels wouldn’t do. Her phone was certainly being monitored. She couldn’t physically travel to the White House… if she could even find a way to get in. Any use of a credit card to purchase a burner phone wasn’t an option, either. Not even the use of cash for that kind of phone would work, since it was certain she was being physically followed. Going to any telecommunications store would be noticed and reported.
Hogan came up with an idea that might work. She and Donna used to go to a Starbucks near the White House every single morning, about a year ago. This happened like clockwork at about 7:00AM. They had fallen out of that ritual. She certainly wouldn’t chance a direct meeting with Donna, but she was aware Donna – a creature of habit – still went to the coffee shop every weekday regularly. She could bribe one of the Starbucks barristas to pass a letter that was encoded on a USB drive. Yes, this could work. After all, Donna wasn’t being watched, she was.
On the way back home, Hogan took out two hundred dollars, in twenties, from an ATM. She returned home, and created a text document on a spare USB drive she had. The note read:
“Donna. It’s Nancy. There is something you should know. This is something you should communicate to the President. A colleague and I have been tasked with working on a translation project involving a strange, anomalous artifact. It isn’t like anything I've seen — not from any known civilization. Not from this world, I think. I’ve seen video of it, and it doesn’t look like anything a human could have built. All I know for sure is that it’s located in Ohio. Everything is very hush-hush, very cloak-and-daggers. The person who tasked me with the project wants it kept from everybody, including the CIA Director and even the President. I don’t like that, AT ALL. The President should know. I’m not quite sure what the object is, but I don’t like the idea of working on ANYTHING that is being kept secret from the highest levels of government. That’s not how things are supposed to work. Don’t contact me directly, I’m being closely watched. If you did contact me, I think it would actually put me in danger. Love, your friend Nancy.”
The next morning, on the way to work, she stopped at the Starbucks. The time was 6:30 AM, before Donna’s usual arrival. The barrista that typically served the two women was working. When at the register, Hogan surreptitiously gave the young man the USB drive and the cash, with the instruction to pass it to her long-time friend. The young employee nodded, understanding the request.
=========================
Donna McPherson stepped out of the cab and entered the Starbucks, as she did nearly every day. She ordered her usual – a vanilla Bean Crème Frappuccino -- and when she picked it up, she noticed a USB drive taped to the side. She was about to say something to the barrista, but her intuition told her to stay silent. She went to the register to pay, and the barrista approached, whispering to her that this drive was from a friend. This was weird, Donna thought, but she quietly accepted the drink and the storage device without objection. Donna scanned the room, looking for anything – or anyone – out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, she left the Starbucks and got back into the cab.
She pulled the USB off the coffee cup and fingered it, looking for any markings. Scrawled on the side, in Sharpie pen, was the name of an old friend: Nancy Hogan. That got Donna’s attention. Okay, she said to herself, I’ll plug it into my laptop when I got to work. She knew plugging in unauthorized media, if detected, could end her career. But if Nancy had risked this much… maybe the bigger danger was doing nothing. If Nancy sent this to her – especially like this – it had to be important.
Donna was one of the official White House aides who’s job it was to interface with National Security Advisor Marcus Delgado, providing him collected material he would use during the Presidential Daily Brief. Upon arriving, Donna settled at her desk, and inserted the USB drive, She opened and read the sole text file on it. Her brow furrowed. This was interesting. She picked up the phone.
“Marcus? Do you have a second?”
Marcus left his office and stood next to Donna’s desk.
“Take a look at this,” Donna said, gesturing to the screen.
Marcus read, and asked “Where did you get this? Who’s it from?”
“Can I keep that to myself for now? What do you think of the content?”
“I don’t know. It could just be noise, meaningless chatter… “
“Okay. I’ll tell you who it’s from. It’s from Nancy Hogan.”
“Nancy! I know her. She’s one of our best cryptologists. All, right, that raises the credibility a little.”
The two discussed this letter a little more, and Marcus decided to include it in the daily intel briefing.
========================= OUTLINE WITH SOME DIALOG FOLLOWS
◦ National Security Advisor Marcus Delgado privately alerts the President Blake Talbot, about a rumor that the CIA is withholding intelligence with potential national security implications.
◦ Meanwhile, Gaines reaches out to Vice President Roger James, who he knows to be secretly antagonistic to President Talbot. They have an in-person secure conversation. Rogers personally despises the president, calling him weak and indecisive and giving examples. They court one another as allies. He’s looking to assume the Presidency via assassination. Gaines is taken aback, but VP James brings up the Bush-Reagan model. Conversation detailed below:
JAMES: “Do you remember back in 1980 or so, when President Reagan was nearly assassinated by John Hinckley?”
GAINES: “That was a little before my time, sir, I was still just starting high school. I mean, yeah, I remember it.. but not a lot of details about it.”
JAMES: “Well, let me lay it out for you. Reagan was viewed by the establishment as a rogue element, someone who was likely to upset the natural order of our government. Certain factions in the Republican party wanted someone sent in, as a Vice President, who could influence Mr. Reagan. They picked George H.W. Bush. They forced Reagan to accept Bush as his running make. Do you know anything about Bush?”
GAINES: “A little. I think he was the head of the CIA for a while, was Reagan’s Vice President, and served one presidential term, immediately after Reagan.”
JAMES: “Well, that is not all there is to be known. Without clearing things with the people who put Bush where he was, he decided to … how shall I put it… ‘take Reagan off the board.’”
Gaines eyes widened. “Explain.”
JAMES: “The person who took a shot at Reagan was John Hinckley. He was a deeply disturbed and mentally-ill man, who was the brother of Scott Hinckley. Scott Hinckley was close to the Bush family via a connection with Neil Bush. Neil Bush was one of George H.W.’s kids. Through this connection, Bush the senior found someone he could use. And, one thing you spooks in the CIA taught us: Never waste a crazy person.”
GAINES: “How.. what… how do you use someone like that?”
JAMES smiled. “There are ways of manipulating the mentally-ill into action. We, the United States, do this all the time in foreign countries. We wind someone up, make sure they have guns or a bomb, point them in the desired direction…. and off they go. Bang or boom.”
Gaines stood silently, taking all this information in.
JAMES: “Now, of course, G.H.W. Bush was careful to distance himself from any of this – ‘plausible deniability’ was the term of that era – but make no mistake, he ensured things unfolded the way they did. Amazing what you can accomplish when you are the former head of the CIA. “
Gaines restrained himself from taking a physical step back. “Let me understand what you are saying: You’re talking about killing the President.”
James smiled coldly. “No. I’m talking about restoring competent leadership.”
Gaines looked away, but the seed was already planted.
The VP has Gaines assemble a team to sabotage Air Force One.
The sabotage effort is a Coordinated Cyber-Physical Attack - A combined cyber and physical attack that
1. Installs Malicious Hardware: Devices that trigger failures during flight., which
2. Disrupts Navigation Systems: Feeding false data to pilots.
3. Override Safety Protocols: Disabling alarms or backup systems.
The Writers Guild of Free Republic ping list:
You’re a very good writer, I wish I could write like that.
Wouldn’t it be FR-appropriate to weigh in without reading the chapters?
You can! Just assign it to me! 😊
But seriously, thanks. Hope it captured your attention.
Of course! Just tell me that it would be better if the World War Two soldiers actually utilized the unicorn they captured. It would frighten the Japs more.
You and I have been Freepers for a long time. I sincerely appreciate your many posts. I want to love your manuscript, but I do not get it. I am sorry. it does not captivate my attention. Just being honest. No disrespect.
-PJ
Same here. Good writing.
I’m more of an editor than a writer.
Back in the 90s when I took a lot of business courses I wrote A and B papers fairly easily as long as I had some idea of the concept though.
With a camera, especially video, I can do a great deal. Final Cut helps a lot.
Only one acre of land is unrealistic.
Ok. I appreciate the honest feedback. Maybe your attention might be captured later, when it shifts into a technology-sci-fi thing.
I think I’m keeping things as-is. I won’t be scrapping it and rewriting AGAIN. That said: What loses your attention?
Fair enough. I'll increase the size of the parcel.
Thanks. Means a bit more, coming from an editor. Appreciate your opinion.
I’m working on my second best selling novel… I expect to finish reading it this weekend.
Your first few paragraphs sets the time period as pre 1994, then you threw in a wrench with a USB drive in the story.
You are most welcome.
Why do you get a 1994 vibe out of it? It should be current time.
Wouldn’t it be FR-appropriate to weigh in without reading the chapters?
____________________________
I didnt’ read it and I am prepared to say that I already read this book...
The premise is certainly intriguing, the characters seem believable, and the action keeps my interest. I would flesh out the characters a bit and make certain the dialog fits whatever agency these folks work for. I believe this will make for some good entertainment when it is finished.
Thanks!
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