August 25th, 2033
We walked in silence most of the night, stopping occasionally to draw on some water or to listen to the telltale whine of a warbird passing overhead. Bagman broke the silence when we crested the southern hills overlooking the alien air base and he got his first real look through my infrared binoculars.
“Damn.” He said.
Damn was right.
Equally split on both sides of the eight-lane freeway, the air base is set up in a grid pattern. I’m guessing the total area to be two miles by two miles square, and it’s surrounded by a one hundred foot tall electrically charged fence. It crackles with energy, – occasionally sparking and snapping almost as if it were verbalizing its invincibility.
Shuttle-craft and transports occupy the east side of the base, while the warbirds are neatly lined in a row and staged to the west.
Prefabricated buildings, some standing hundreds of feet tall, line the base’s perimeter, while the troopers barracks lay safely in the interior of the facility.
The base itself buzzes with activity. In the few hours we spent canvassing the installation we saw ships of all sizes and classes come and go. Of particular note were the shuttles running a route between the base and the battleship still hovering over Los Angeles.
In all, we spent three hours surveying the base before pulling up stakes and heading back to camp.
On the way back I debated about telling Bagman of my visions. I know at some point, – if we remain partners in crime, I’ll have to tell him, but I don’t know if this is the time.