Covert Ops
#1 of Covert Operations
Top-Secret: These accounts relate to active government projects and have been classified Top Secret. If you do not have Alpha-Tango security clearance, or higher, and have not been given express permission from the pentagon, re-seal this document and pass it up your chain of command.
-SECNAV, 2005
"All hands to battle stations, repeat, all hands to battle stations!" came the captain's voice from somewhere above them.
"You know, I'm glad they let us have the nice bunks, but you'd think they could turn that thing down a few notches," growled Steve from the top rack. Although he often complained about being yelled awake, he was already jumping out of bed and reaching for his boots.
"You know the only reason we got this room is 'cus of the security risks--if the crew saw us, the entire project would be jeopardized," came a voice from the lower bunk.
Steve rolled his eyes in response. "This is it, you know, we're heading out in five minutes, so get your lazy tail out of that bunk and get your gear," said Steve as he threw a pair of boots on the ambiguous mass on the bed.
"Uhf, I was trying to enjoy my last night in an actual bed," replied Mike as he threw off the covers and began lacing his boots up. Many years ago when in training, the soldiers had learned it saved much time and trouble to sleep in their uniforms rather than try and change in the "morning."
The intercom squawked again, "Good morning ladies, I know it takes time to do your hair and make-up, but we're leaving in five, with or without you, so GET YOUR BUTTS UP HERE, NOW!"
"Well, he certainly has his panties in a twist this morning. You'd think after four months of training for this, he'd realize we know what we're doing," joked Steve as he strapped on his pistol belt and reached for his pack.
"Yea, but he's got to have something to yell about; it's a scientific fact- he'd explode if he didn't yell at someone at least once a day," Mike explained. Although missing the warm bed, he finished gearing up and checked himself over to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.
"Hmm, I'm still faster than you," commented Steve.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, rub it in." Mike finished strapping on his gear and grabbed a dime off the table. He noticed Steve's look, "What? You know I need my morning sugar." Steve just shook his head.
Opening the door, Steve looked out to make sure there were no errant sailors still in the corridor, "All clear, let's get up there before Train has a coronary."
Running down the corridor and up the ladder well, Mike stopped in front of the ship's store, put his dime in a gumball machine, grabbed the gum, and continued to sprint for the chopper.
Noticing Mike had caught up to him, Steve said, "You know that stuff will rot your teeth."
"Nonsense, besides, sugar's good for ya."
Steve just rolled his eyes at Mike's customary response.
As the pair reached the strangely deserted flight deck, Colonel Train caught sight of them, "Well, I'm glad you ladies decided to grace us with your presence; now, if you think you're make-up's ok, your limo's ready," he said with heavy sarcasm.
"Glad to see you're in a good mood today, Sir," retorted Mike as he jumped aboard the helo and strapped himself in.
"Yes Sir, you know how worried we are about your health," added Steve. As he and Train strapped in, the helicopter began its ascent. Due to the increasing noise of the rotors above them, nothing more was said.
While traveling in silence, Mike began reflecting on what had led up to this day. Only a year ago he had graduated with the rest of his buds from ROTC and got his commission in the Marine Corps. After a week of celebrating and spending time with friends and family, he got on a plain to Perris Island for Officer Training School. There he had met Steve, who was another fresh lieutenant in his company. While training, the instructors quickly noticed that Steve and Mike were the best soldiers on the shooting range and in the field. This quickly led to a healthy competition between the pair: as with all marines, they both wanted to be best.
With the end of training came the graduation ceremony and distribution of orders. While most of their comrades were being sent to units in the Middle East, Mike and Steve were ordered to report to a Colonel Train, USMC, at the local airport the next day at 0600, the same day as the graduation.
Arriving at the airport in civilian attire and their uniforms in sea bags, as instructed, they waited at the terminal for the mysterious colonel.
"On your feet ladies!" came a booming voice from behind them.
At this, both young soldiers jumped to attention and promptly did an about face.
"None of that crap here, you're not in boot anymore, you're officers," criticized the small, muscular man.
"Sir?" inquired Mike.
"Yeah, I'm Colonial Train, your new CO. Now, before you two attract anymore attention, grab your gear and get on that plane," he said as he pointed at a private jet with the name CHGR, Inc stenciled on the side. The two young lieutenants passed inquisitive looks between each other, picked up their bags, and headed for the jet; followed by Colonial Train.
As they neared the airplane, a young stewardess with the name "Mindy" on her shirt took their bags and handed them to a crewman. "Watch your step gentlemen, please sit towards the rear of the plane in order to balance the weight, if you require anything, please press the call button above your seat, and I'll be right with you."
As soon as they had seated themselves and buckled their seat belts, Colonel Train sat in the seat across from them, sat his briefcase on the chair next to him, withdrew two manila folders, and handed one to each of the lieutenants. On the front of the envelope was his name, the word ORDERS, and CLASSIFIED stenciled in large red letters diagonally across the front. Inside the envelope was a single, crisp sheet of paper. On it was written: "You are ordered, by the U.S. Marine Corps to report to the Center for Human Genetic Resequencing in," the location was blacked out, "Upon your arrival you will report to Dr. Smith at the Screening/In-Processing Lab." The orders were signed by the Commandant of the Marine Corps. Additionally, there was no end date for the assignment, nor was there any information on the Center for Human Genetic Resquencing.
When Mike finished reading, he looked at Colonel Train, perplexed, "Sir?" Steve was also staring at Train, hoping for an answer.
"I'm sorry men, but I'm not allowed to discuss this with you until after you have completed the in-processing. Now, I suggest you both get something to eat and get some sleep; we'll be there in less than three hours, and the in-processing takes quite a while.
After Train had taken the envelopes back from the two, Mike pressed the "Call" button on the ceiling. Almost immediately, Mindy came and told them what was available for breakfast and took their orders. About five minutes latter she came back with a push cart with breakfast and coffee. While Mike and Steve quickly ate breakfast, Train sipped coffee and read a local newspaper. Once finished with breakfast Mindy returned to take away their dishes, furnish them with pillows, and show them how to recline the seats. As soon as they laid down, they were asleep.
Roughly two hours later, they were both awoken by Train, "Alright you two, wake up, we're landing in ten minutes."
Again, Mindy was right there to take the pillows. Once they were sitting up-right again, and belted securely into their chairs, Mike inquired, "Sir, are we landing at the Center or a nearby airport."
"The base the Center is on, actually, the Center merely has a Civilian fronting, its funded and run by the pentagon," replied Train, "Now, once we land you'll be taking a HMWWV to the in-processing building. There you will meet Dr. Smith, actually a Navy commander, who will take charge of you there, I won't see you again until you're ready for training."
"Training, sir?" asked Steve, "We just completed training."
"This is specialized training," answered Train, "No more questions. Dr. Smith will tell you all you need to know once you have completed the screening and in-processing."
"Yes, sir," replied Mike and Steve in unison.
As soon as the plain was taxied to a refueling station, the stewardess came by to tell Mike and Steve they could leave now and that they're possessions were already in the HMWWV, which was awaiting them.
They quickly exited the plane and approached the vehicle. Waiting for them was a young woman in a green jump suit, she could have been Mindy's twin, except she had read hair instead of Mindy's black. "Hello, my name is Cindy, I will be driving you to the In-processing building, please take your seats and we'll be off."
Both men sat in the back seat, giving each other quizzical looks. Mike leaned over towards Steve and whispered in his ear, "I got dibs on the brunette, you can have the red head."
Steve elbowed him and said, "Will you grow up? Sheesh, you'd think after four years of college you might be a bit more mature." Not once did Cindy turn her head or in any other way appear that she was listening.
After a few minutes the HMWWV pulled up to a small metal building, no bigger than a shack, above the door was printed: USGS, Authorized Personnel Only. Cindy looked directly into a peephole in the door, after about five seconds there was a small beeping sound and she stepped back, "You turn Lt. Swagger." Mike stepped up and looked into the peephole, at first he thought it was just your average hole in the door, then it shone bright with a blue light.
"What the hell was that?" He yelled hysterically.
The door beeped again.
"It was simply scanning your iris lieutenant; it was confirming your identity," answered Cindy, "Your turn, Lt. Robertson; I can assure you, it won't harm you."
Steve looked to Mike, who simply shrugged, then stepped up to the door and looked into the peephole. After five seconds there was the same small beep and he stood up, "That wasn't so bad," he glanced at Mike, "a bit melodramatic, buddy."
Mike just snorted and looked to Cindy who was punching a code into a number pad he had not noticed earlier.
When she stood up there was another small beep; this time, however, the door slid right, into the wall, revealing a gleaming elevator.
"After you, gentlemen," said Cindy, who walked into the elevator behind the two men. Once inside, she turned around and pressed a small blue button. On it were the letters S/IP. The door quickly slid shut again and the elevator began descending; in a few moments the door slid open again, revealing a waiting room complete with a receptionist reading a magazine behind a glass window--it appeared to be an ordinary doctor's office.
Cindy walked up to the window and knocked on the glass to get the receptionist's attention. "Anna, these are the two gentlemen Train picked up this morning. Please see to it that everything is taken care of."
"Yes Ma'am," said the aging woman from behind the counter. She gestured to Mike and Steve, "all right you two, here are the forms you need to fill out. Please have a seat and return them to me when you are done.
Mike took his form and sat down. He glanced over the form, it seemed like the average forms required in any doctor's office--except for one line of questioning: "1. To your knowledge, are you allergic to any kind of animal or animal related product? Y/N If yes, Please explain, 2. Have you had any pets? Y/N Please Explain, 3. Do you have any fears of animals? Y/N If yes, please explain."
Mike turned to Steve, "Man, these people are pretty thorough, I mean, 'have you ever had a pet?' Why would they want to know that?" Mike asked rhetorically.
"Heck if I know," said Steve before returning to the form and filling it out.
Once finished, Mike returned the form to the receptionist. "Thank you; please wait until the nurse calls for you mister, umm," she glanced at the form, "Swagger."
"Yes Ma'am," replied Mike as he headed back to his chair. Steve was still filling out the form. "Strange place, huh? I mean a doctor's office, God knows how far underground, and..."
"Two hundred fifty-five feet," came a reply from over the counter. Steve was laughing as he took his form to the receptionist and handed it in.
The receptionist looked over the form. "Thank you; please wait until the nurse calls for you, Mr. Robertson."
"Yes, ma'am," Steve replied, headed back to his seat. He turned to Mike, "Now, what were you saying about the mysterious underground office?" He asked with amusement.
"Well, just that it's-"
"Mr. Swagger, the doctor will see you now," came a voice from the corner of the room.
Mike was standing up and turning his head in that direction when he saw the nurse, or at least what should have been a nurse. Standing there was a collie, a six-foot tall collie, standing on two legs and wearing a long doctor's coat, her tail hanging lightly to the side.
Halfway standing, he passed out.