Ben Hammott - Salvage

“And the military advances are incalculable,” added Colt.

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all this from NASA repeatedly ever since we learned of the spaceship,” stated the President, “but this is a sensitive operation. We have no more jurisdiction in the Antarctic than any other nation and now that British idiot, Richard Whorley, has splashed the spaceship’s existence all over the newspapers, this,” he swept a hand over the spaceship scan, “is no longer a secret and something they’ll all want a piece of.”

“Yes, that is most unfortunate,” agreed Hopkins. “However, as we speak, steps are being taken to invalidate Mr. Whorley’s fantastical story.”

President Conner’s eyebrows rose. “Another Roswell type cover-up?”

“Not exactly, but…”

President Conner raised a hand. “No, best I remain oblivious of the details.”

Hopkins nodded. “As you wish, Mr. President.”

President Conner turned his attention back to the spaceship image. “Not that I can imagine how you’ll be able to cover up something as large as this. We are not the only nation with satellite technology and I’d be extremely surprised if certain countries don’t have theirs aimed directly at the drifting iceberg as we speak.”

“I’m sure they have,” agreed Hopkins, “but we are fortunate that it’s located in such a remote and inhospitable place. The Internet is full of hoaxed spaceship sightings and images; this will just be another. Yes, the conspiracy nut-jobs will have a field day with it, but without any physical evidence, only Whorley’s photographs, easily created with graphic software, as were our images that will be posted online shortly. It will capture people’s imagination for a while.”

The President wasn’t convinced. “That’s probably what they thought about Roswell, and look how that turned out. However, it’s not the general public that causes me the most concern; it’s those countries that will want to get their hands on advanced alien technology as badly as us, the Russians and Chinese especially.”

“It’s lucky that we were able to get our men on site so quickly,” said Colt. “We were first on the scene and will be first to claim what we can. The British, already privy to the information, on your orders, will be involved in the salvage operation. The Russians already have a ship heading for the Antarctic, though I’m not certain what they’ll do when they arrive as there is only one entrance into the spaceship and we have that well guarded.”

“You don’t believe they will use force to procure alien technology for themselves?”

General Colt shrugged noncommittally. “This is such an unprecedented discovery, Mr. President, it’s hard to predict what the Russians will do. Will they risk starting a war by using force to get aboard the spaceship? I don’t believe so. With the British backing us up it will be one nation against two; they wouldn’t stand a chance. However, saying that, it’s certain they’ll have read Richard Whorley’s descriptions of the light-beam weapon used by that Haax alien to kill some of the monsters and might think, like us, that there could be other advanced weaponry aboard the spaceship. Given its size it must have at least one armory or weapon store of some nature, and it will be these weapons more than any other technology aboard the spaceship that will be the principle driving factor behind any decisions the Russians might make.”

“I agree,” said the President. “I’ve managed to placate the Chinese for a while with promises of sharing the alien technology, but I believe they were only so amenable because they knew by the time they arrived all the best stuff would be gone and the spaceship might be at the bottom of the ocean. The Russians though, it seems, are counting on salvaging something for themselves.”

“I would be failing in my duty,” said Colt, “if I didn’t state firmly enough how important it is that we get our hands on any alien weaponry before less responsible nations. Weapons that might be aboard the spaceship could make our nuclear arsenal look like spud guns. If they fall into the wrong hands it’s possible the rest of the world could be held to ransom.”

“You will get no arguments from me on that score,” stated the President.

“I already have a plan in place to do what is necessary to secure and salvage any alien weapons and prevent them from falling into the… wrong hands. I just need your go ahead, Mr. President.”

President Conner glanced at the General. “You have it, but it mustn’t interfere with the current salvage operation.”

“It won’t, Mr. President,” reassured Colt. “I have a specialized team standing by. They won’t fail.”

“Nor do I want it to cause an international incident. Though our relationship with the Russians is at best precarious, we’ve come a long way since the end of the Cold War and I’ve no intention of revisiting those days on my watch. Is that clear, General?”

The General nodded firmly. “As crystal, Mr. President.

President Conner watched the General leave before turning back to the spaceship scan and frowned as he wondered how all this happening on his watch would affect his political career.

Admiral Thomson entered the room assigned to the NASA technicians and scientists and gazed around at the men and women sat staring at computer monitors and typing on keyboards. He had been asked to find out as much as he could about the internal layout of the ship for a special ops mission to seek out alien armaments. Normally he would have assigned the task to a subordinate, but he wanted to see for himself the satellite scan that had the NASA technicians so excited.

A man he recognized as David Boyd, another NASA lackey, raised a hand at the far side of the room. “Over here, Admiral.”

Thomson crossed the room and stared at the large image on the table that was identical to the one the President had been viewing thousands of miles away.

“As you can see, Admiral, we have now pieced together detailed scans of the spaceship.”

There wasn’t much that surprised the fifty-five year old commander, but what he looked at now qualified. “It’s far bigger than I imagined.”

“A little over a mile long and half that at its widest point,” stated Boyd, his eyes scanning the spacecraft image with obvious excitement. “We have no idea of its depth, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some levels are a quarter of a mile from the top.”

Thomson walked around the table as he studied the colossal vessel. “It’s going to be damn nigh impossible, given the time we have, to find anything aboard that thing. There must be hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of rooms spread out on its various levels.”

“I agree,” said Boyd. “I’m just glad the shuttlecrafts are right by the entrance. If we get nothing else I’ll be happy.”

Thomson glared at the NASA technician. “Making you happy is not part of my mission. I’ve already been informed by President Conner how important this salvage mission is. You worry about what you’re good at, and I’ll do my part. You want a shuttlecraft or two, you’ll get them.” The Admiral pointed at the parts of the spacecraft image shaded red. “What are those?”

Apparently unfazed by the man’s abruptness, Boyd explained, “The red indicates the parts of the ship the scientists explored. Of course it’s not exact given the limited amount of information gathered from the scientists debriefing, and doesn’t account for the many lower levels. However, it gives us an idea how much of the ship the scientists didn’t explore―more than seventy percent.”

The Admiral sighed. “It’s all very interesting, but unless you can supply me with a plan of the spaceship’s internal layout and the purpose of each room, it’s not very helpful. I’d rather not send men in blind with no idea of what direction to head in.”