Below is an extract from my dominion first blood series where the President asks questions about the Sirius Project. It also captures the atmosphere of what an alien invasion what actually be like.

President Wilson, his young son and three rock-faced and black-suited secret service personnel are going down in a secure White House elevator, deep below the White House. Everyone looks tense. As the steel doors part, and they get out, they see a silver steel train with the American Flag and Seal of the President of the United States emblazoned on it. There are shouted orders and frantic activity as boxes and personnel are stowed onto the train, a stoney-faced Secret Service officer steps towards the President.

‘This way sir.’ Wilson and Scott are seated in the presidential car, along with boxes piled high with equipment. The President wipes his brow and gestures towards his staff, ‘Leave us please,’ as he leans forward to his friend General Scott, then faints as his head falls on the table. The knock to his head brings him around.
‘Frank! Are you ok?’ asks Scott.
President Wilson retrieves a pill from his jacket pocket, his hand shaking.
‘Anything I can to do to help?’ a concerned Scott helps the President get seated. The train moves away and accelerates to a tremendous speed as they are forced back into their seats. Wilson takes a drink of water and the colour returns to his face, but his voice is weak.

‘Bill, protocol dictates that I should hand over to the Vice President if I’m incapacitated, but I don’t trust him. He’s a backstabber, unreliable, power gone to his head. Anyway, he is in London.’
‘We managed to get him on an X-37D, but we’ve had no contact for 24 hours,’ replies General Scott.
‘The Secretary of Defence, Fraser? Nice guy, but I’m not sure he could cope—he’s also missing. I need loyal and competent people by my side. But when the time comes I want you to take over,’ he says, looking at his General. Wilson leans back and takes another one of his pills. Scott nodded.
‘So Bill, what is this Sirius Protocol, and are we ready?’
‘Well, sir.’
‘You call me Frank in private from now on please – we’ve known each other long enough, and I don’t know how long I’ve got.’
‘Okay, Frank. The Sirius Project was first mooted in the 1950s after Roswell. It was classified Above Top Secret so not many people knew about it.’

‘You mean you actually found a spacecraft—aliens?’
‘An alien craft was found. It was damaged but we recovered it and we have been doing research at Area 51 ever since. The aliens were dead but we have kept them preserved for research. Then in the 1970s, there was a secret meeting of the five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council where it was agreed to set up and fund Project Sirius. Since then France, UK and China have pulled out, thinking it was a waste of money. Only Russia stuck with us. Surprised eh? Over the years we have built some ingenious weapons, some with technology we gained from the alien spacecraft. But to be honest we’re not sure if it will work in practice, against the aliens I mean. Hold on…’

A panel and a blue phone flash. General Scott picks up.
‘It’s Chip again sir, multiple alien spacecraft have entered the Earth’s atmosphere, satellites are down, most communications are down.’ Wilson leaned forward towards Scott. ‘How come space command can contact us?’
‘Radio technology, the old-fashioned stuff seems to work best in these circumstances. Sir, can I launch the squadrons of F22s?’
‘Do it,’ ordered the President.
‘What chance do they have?’
‘We have equipped the F22s with the shielding technology we found on the Roswell ship. It’s controlled from Sirius headquarters. That’s where we’re heading now,’ Scott loosened his tie and took off his jacket.
The President’s son, Michael, walks in with an aide.
‘Dad, will the aliens be friends with us?’
‘I don’t think so, son.’ Wilson stood up and addresses his son.
‘You will need to be brave.’ The president digs in his pocket and puts a Secret Service badge on Michael.
‘You stick close to me, you’re my new Secret Service agent. Here’s your badge, son.’
They salute each other. General Scott smiles and salutes as well.
‘Where’s mummy?’ asks Michael.
‘She’s in New York son. We’re trying our best to find her and bring her home safe.’ The President looks pale as he hugs his son.

The red phone flashes as an aide walks in.
‘It’s your UN Security Council conference call sir, not sure they’re all there sir.’
President Wilson picks up the phone in eager anticipation of the events in other parts of the world.
‘Prime Minister Johnson, hello Boris, how are you faring?’
The British Prime Minister sounds out of breath.
‘Hello Frank, we’ve evacuated Downing Street and we’re at a secure location – a Sirius base outside London. It’s pretty chaotic, an alien spaceship has appeared over London, the population is terrified, scared the shit out of me, to be honest. We’re engaging now with a squadron of Eurofighters, we’re hoping this new Sirius technology you gave us will protect our planes. What’s that? What’s that noise? Christ! I’ve got to go!’
Wilson looks up at Scott, who shakes his head.
‘Anyone else there?’
‘Yakimov here!’
‘Alexey! How are you faring?’
‘Frank, not well. We have evacuated Moscow, alien craft are everywhere. Most of our Air Force is shot down. Were bunkered down in Siberia. We’re hoping this Sirius technology will help us, our Sukhoi’s have the new technology fitted, the shields, but it’s not working against these alien bastards! I know we have had our differences in the past, but the world must unite now Frank, else we are doomed. To be honest …’
The line went dead. Wilson and Scott shake their heads in dismay.
‘I need a stiff drink,’ the president mutters, head in hands.
‘Are you sure—in your condition?’ as General Scott wanders over to a drinks cabinet.
‘We need to find a solution to this alien threat, Bill.’ Scott is silent as he pours them a glass of whisky from a decanter.
‘Ice please,’ says Wilson as his friend passes him a glass of single malt—Glenmorangie. They sat in silence, trying to comprehend the enormity of their responsibility to the American people, and to the world at large.
‘You know Bill, when I was talking to Yakimov, I felt a sense of camaraderie, like I’ve never felt before. Like we’re all in this together. Maybe this crisis is what the world needs to bring people together.’
‘Assuming anyone survives of course,’ replies General Scott, then adds, ‘The enemy of mine enemy is my friend.’
‘Yes Bill, I take your point, but it’s more than that.’

President Wilson leans forward. ‘I heard from Smith at the CIA of a British guy. Captain Morgan—an SAS soldier of superhuman ability, the strength of ten men. Runs as fast as a leopard, indestructible,’ as he took a gulp of whiskey.
‘They call him Bulletproof Pete,’ smiled General Scott. ‘We tried to recruit him before but failed. Smith put a request into the British Government to put him on an X-37D in return for Sirius technology. They agreed. The British stopped funding the Sirius project so they’re short of kit.’
‘We need answers Bill, and fast. I pray to God he’s on his way.’ The President looks earnest, like a father awaiting the safe delivery of a child.
‘God speed Captain Morgan,’ prays Frank Wilson as he finishes his whisky.


An experimental, sleek-looking plane, black as the ace of spades, emerges from an underground hangar, X-37D emblazoned on the fuselage. It looks like a cross between a space shuttle and an SR71 Blackbird, brimming with stealth technology. It launches into the air and quickly accelerates to Mach 3. The skin of the plane shimmers and becomes semi-invisible. Destination: an air force base in the North of England.

The story continues in…



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