Enlightenment [Book 2: SEKTOR V Trilogy]

Chapter 18: Open Wounds

Chapter 18: Open Wounds

General Coker had pushed hard to get Dr. Holland included at the recent meeting with the Extraterrestrial Biological Entity (EBE). Very, very few Humans had the necessary clearance to even be considered for such a gathering, but given Holland's EBE track record, Coker figured he wouldn't be a particularly tough sell to the normally freakishly secretive Ministry. Typically, they were in full-on denial mode for any topic that was even remotely related to the existence of sentient extraterrestrials. Ministry behavior often included outright lying to non-career, top-ranking government officials, up to and including the sitting President of the United States. Covert operations with EBEs dated back to the mid-20th century when clandestine operatives known as the Majestic 12 began interacting with the Greys. Given the government's impressive, long-term undercover track record, no one liked adding a single soul into the mix unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, "eliminating" individuals after the fact sometimes became an unfortunate necessity in the interest of maintaining full secrecy. As one of the very few people who was already part of the government's inner EBE circle, Coker was well aware of this cloak-and-dagger routine.

After attending the meeting, Dr. Holland was inextricably entrained into the government's EBE wheel of misfortune for the rest of his life, whether he liked it or not. Of course, the Ministry had its own reasons for having him present. For starters, who knew EBE biology better than Holland?

For Christ's sake, the guy ran a Human gulag that was co-managed by extraterrestrial madmen! And here we are now, taking a "first look" at a new species of EBEs? Coker, Lebanchek, and the rest of the Ministry brass knew they needed Holland.

And now, finally, the time had come to turn the tables. What every remaining Human had just witnessed in cold, bloody detail was beyond the pale. There was no way Coker could stand pat, especially after confirmation that yet another questionable EBE was coveting our world. It's time to kick the Galactic carpetbaggers out for good, he thought. The technological trinkets we received in exchange for our unthinkable deeds weren't worth it.

Whatever reparative actions Coker took now would never clean his permanently soiled soul, but he could help save billions of lives that should never have been threatened in the first place. The only remaining question was, would Holland see it his way and would he join forces with him? Just as importantly, would he still have the juice 'Down Under'—which was the colloquial name given to the gruesome underground hellhole he ran in the New Mexico desert? Without Holland on board and fully committed, doing anything of consequence would be impossible. As Coker's thoughts drifted, Holland, along with a military security guard entered the secure briefing room Coker had arranged for their meeting.

"That will be all, sergeant," the general informed the escort who saluted and promptly exited the room. Now alone, Coker politely gestured for Dr. Holland to take a seat opposite to him at the conference table.

"Well, Gregg, now that wasn't much of a surprise was it?" Coker asked with a smile.

Holland pulled the chair aside and sat down without making eye contact. "If by that you mean, did I think for a picosecond that the attacks were from any entity other than the Greys," he stiffly replied, "then, yes, I'd say it's a zero point zero shocker on the Richter scale."

"So what do you think?" asked Coker.

"About what?"

"Going in and kicking some Down-Under ass."

"What?" Holland looked mildly agitated. "When did you ask me about that?"

"Just now."

"OK, now you're just being stupid, so stop it. I'm not happy about what we witnessed and even less so now that we've had that meeting with this new, supposedly benevolent EBE."

Coker smiled.

"Was that funny?" asked Holland. "Did I say something that amused you?"

"Hardly. I'm smiling because I share your anger. And I want us to take them out. Between my continued access to Special Forces and your knowledge of Down Under we could do a shitload of damage."

Holland looked surprised, but also interested. He stared back across the table that separated them.

"Think about it," Coker continued. "I know, you— OK, we spent far too many years supporting that shitshow, and I for one have deep regrets—"

"YOU have deep regrets?" Holland's face turned white, with lips pursed and his eyes sharpened with vitriol.

In an odd way, Coker was relieved to see his reaction. During all those years he and Holland never talked about any of it. They were cogs and they both knew and accepted it. Coker had two ulcers, high blood pressure, and a failed suicide attempt to show for his part in their gruesome, slow-motion charade. And from the looks of Holland's reaction, Coker could see that he hadn't fared much better.

"I retired early. Any idea why?"

Coker could see that Holland was just getting started, so he sat back and let him go.

"I lost my entire family. I couldn't look any of them in the face. They knew nothing about what 'Daddy did for a living', thank God. My wife and kids were strangers to me. Eventually, they left. How could they not leave? I wish I could leave me as well...

"And you better believe that I fucking blame you. All you had to do was stop the money. It would have ended, or at least my part would have. But no, instead you chose to know nothing and kept throwing resources at the operation...at ME! More than I asked for, every goddamn time! I'm sorry to say it, but it's true: I hate you. I always have."

Coker hated himself too. None of Holland's verbal grenades bothered him. He had long since accepted that he had no one to blame but himself. Clearly, Holland had reached the same conclusion. This was pure emotional venting and he was glad he could help him. He hoped more would come flooding out. But instead, Holland stared at the floor.

"Of course," Holland said eventually, "I know I'm just as much to blame. More so, in fact, given what I saw day after day. I'm just so relieved that I finally managed to physically extricate myself from that place and now you want me to revisit it all over again? I can't do that."

"No, Doctor, that's where you're wrong. I don't want you to revisit anything. I just want to blow it the fuck up." Coker was surprised that he'd managed to hold back the emotional floodgates.

After a few seconds of silence, Holland burst out laughing. Coker joined him, relieved. It was hardly a moment of shared joy, but anything that helped release the pain associated with years of unimaginable guilt and anguish was more than welcome...at least for now.