In the wee small hours, Pilcher looked at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, picked up his pen, and carried on writing. Two minutes later he looked at his watch again and with a heartfelt sigh dropped his pen on his desk, sat back and stared blankly at the wall in front of him.
He was preparing written statements ready to be typed and dated to send to family members of the OBF1 team, stating their beloved was M.I.A. and unfortunately due to the classified and sensitive nature of their work, that was all he could reveal.
Denver Calham suggested using cover up stories like being involved in a private plane crash over South America, or the Atlantic Ocean. “Tangible and they would have a form of closure,” he had stated. He would even stage the evidence if need be. Pilcher refused. “Too insulting,” he stated to his superior. Calham finally agreed and told him he could write anything he wanted except the truth. Pilcher shook his head knowing he was back to square one.
The years had made Denver Calham a cold hearted son of a bitch. He hoped he was not heading down that path.
Paul Pilcher was indeed a morose man who carried a heavy burden on his shoulders.
There had been no word from Kate or his team. Nor were any threats to his planet received from any enemies. At least if he had heard something he could act accordingly; or did he fear just that?
His homebase forces were on twenty-four hour standby, he had received an exceptionally large arsenal of weaponry for ground and sky forces delivered from all corners of the S.U.E.P. He was ready for the worst. And dreading the day, he would have to give the order to use them. The world was not ready for the Trimadians or Locum. He hoped his OBF teams were, but only with plenty of backup. He would need to call the President to gain Armed Forces support. When zero hour was upon them, could they rely on their alien alliances to help?
Would it all be enough?
Pilcher had held back his earlier threats in regard to applying the protocol of last resort to blow the base up. Calham was livid and refused, stating he was overreacting. Instead, he ordered Pilcher to send fresh supplies of war machines and manpower through the BSP, and continue the base setups on Ahmadeus. Along with that, Pilcher made sure the Cantal survivors received bulk food and medical supplies he had promised. The final delivery went through an hour ago.
Now, both sides of the Door were under perpetual heavy armed guard.
Every four hours, homebase opened the door for an update. It was always the same report. No sign of OBF1 including Willard and no sign of enemy attack. If Kate was doing okay, why had they not let her contact base? On the other hand, if she was not, why had the Trimadian’s not attacked Earth as they had threatened?
There was the other thought he would have to entertain. Perhaps it was all an elaborate hoax. All they ever wanted was Kate, which at first did not seem feasible. When his men reported that the Cantals never had any bloodstone in their possession, even after intensive searching, Pilcher knew they had all been played like a fool.
Pilcher was brought up a devout Catholic. But was beginning to think how irrelevant his religion was, especially after meeting Denver Calham and learning his background.
That simple business lunch gave him his command position he held today. But he knew he was only Calham’s puppet and fall guy when one day the world’s powers and politics would crush them. Or would he be spared all that, courtesy of their enemies.
When Kate had made her last radio contact, he had a little niggle in the back of his head that it may be her last.
He looked down at the words, letters and numbers on the paper, and fought back tears of frustration and anger. Since OBF’s inception, this was the first time he had to compose M.I.A. letters. It was not an enviable task, but someone had to do it.
Deep in forced concentration, he glanced at his digital calendar. Almost four days since Kate made her last contact. Well, they say no news is good news. He would simply assume Kate and her stones had been picked up by the Trimadians, or she was dead. No, he is not going to be that pessimistic at 3:00 a.m. Deep down he felt sorry she had only had such a brief time on base and wished he got to know her more. She was a promising soldier and given time would not surprise him if she out skilled his flagship team. He hoped she was at least getting some answers to the questions that were haunting her.
He laid his head and arms down on his desk for a moment. With a bit of luck Kate and her stones were a success and the mighty Trimadians were simultaneously worshipping and cowering at her feet. And OBF1 are all being treated like gods, living in unbridled luxury. Unfortunately, they had revealed all their knowledge to the enemy without even realizing. And, now having no use for them, they would be sent back through the BSP to Earth. Upon arrival, they would all blow up and flatten the base. The mountain complex would now be rubble and dust. No survivors. Pilcher screamed as his dream jerked him back to reality like a kick in the balls. “Stop it!” he cried out loud, and covered his face with his hands. Fuck, the stress was starting to take its toll.
Should he write them off? If he did not make a move soon, it would be out of his hands. Calham would write him off as unfit, replace him or have S.U.E.P. directly running the show. He was not so sure if that was a good thing. At three in the morning, the silence was deafening.