“You should have been a Marine, Colonel.” Tango laughed.
“Tucson to San Diego,” Bisdorf was muttering, “call it 360 miles. Flotilla is 150 miles offshore, so 500 miles. Less than 3 minutes, better make it two.” He closed his eyes for a second. “We need at least 4.2 miles per second, or…” He opened his eyes wide. “…about 15,000 miles per hour! Just under orbital speeds, in the fucking atmosphere.”
“Do it,” Cobb told Daimler.
The German continued cursing and looked down at the controls. Clearly, they weren’t designed for anything like the speed they needed. Cobb could see the numbers on the knob ranged from 1 to 500. At one time, it had been 1 to 200, but it had been updated when he brought the former prisoner down to drive. Of the knob’s 360 degrees, 1-500 took up about 90 degrees. The man removed a plastic tab, looked at the scale, and spun the speed control almost all the way up.
“Oh, hell,” Bisdorf gasped.
Cobb looked in the direction of their travel. The leading edge of the forcefield had been visible before, like a contrail. Now, it was glowing like the sun, and streamers of plasma were flowing along the leading edge. Looking down, he could just see the ground passing at an alarming speed.
“We’re high enough to clear the mountains, right?” he asked Bisdorf.
The big man was looking at the timer on his phone. “You are planning to stop a nuke with this thing, and you’re worried about flying through a mountain?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“Wooohooo!” Tango cried as he looked out the front of the gondola. “Looks like Star Wars!”
“We probably look more like Independence Day from the ground,” Bisdorf said. “Okay, 10, 9, 8…”
Cobb looked expectantly at Daimler who had been messing with the wiring on the controls. He had just enough time to wonder what the man had been doing when Bisdorf yelled, “Zero!”
Daimler touched a button, and they stopped. Shangri-La didn’t slow down, it just stopped.
“Oh, that was cool,” Bisdorf said.
“Quit sightseeing and find the Flotilla!” Cobb yelled. According to his watch, they had less than a minute, and that was if Kathy’s estimate was correct. They were floating over the open ocean. Have we overshot and ended up near Hawaii?
“There,” Tango said and pointed. “San Clemente Island.”
There was a long, low island at about 2 o’clock.
“You sure?” Bisdorf asked.
“Marine, remember? We trained there.”
“We’re about 75 miles short,” Bisdorf said and looked at Daimler. “If you did what I think you did, about 5 milliseconds.” Daimler reached for the controls. “Milliseconds.”
“Ya, ya,” Daimler said. He typed something on a simple keypad and touched the controls. The island disappeared and plasma flashed across the nose of the shield. Then there were ships in view.
“Over there!” Cobb said, pointing. The unmistakable shape of an aircraft carrier was clearly visible, surrounded by dozens of other ships.
Daimler was muttering again as he resumed manual control. Shangri-La turned and accelerated normally, in hundreds of miles per hour instead of thousands. He watched carefully and dialed back the speed. As if he were parking his Mercedes Benz, he settled Shangri-La over the flotilla as smooth as could be.
Cobb ran from side to side, looking at the edge of Shangri-La, then down at the ships. “I think we’re bigger.”
“Better hope so,” Bisdorf said, and gestured for Daimler to go lower. They descended quickly. After a second, Daimler touched a button and the gondola was pummeled by airflow.
Cobb grabbed the mic for Shangri-La’s PA system. “Nobody look up! Shield your eyes.”
“Some idiots are going to look up,” Bisdorf said. Cobb shrugged.
“Shield off,” the German said. He slowed the descent, and they came to a stop only a hundred or so feet above the carrier. He touched a control again. “Shield on!”
“Any last words?” Cobb asked.
“Oohrah!” Tango said, and the world turned brilliant white.
* * *
Classified Genesis Facility
San Nicolas Island
Following the silver figure wasn’t hard. Where it encountered doors, it simply cut them down or tore them open. It seemed to be heading somewhere specific. Rose wished it would get there, because his shoulder was killing him.
They encountered people on multiple occasions, and they always got out of the silver thing’s way and put their hands in the air when they saw Rose and his men. Everyone was wearing khaki uniforms or blue coveralls. No insignia were visible. The one exception was a black clad soldier who drew down on their silver friend and was promptly cut into not-quite equal halves. Rose would have shot the man to put him out of his misery, but he was dead before they got to him. A few of the people they passed looked at him questioningly.
“Go topside and wait,” he ordered them. They all complied, and a few ran. There were hundreds of personnel. He marveled at the size of the operation. It helped him understand how the government seemed to lose a few hundred billion dollars every year. There was simply no way this was anything other than a US Government black-ops. Maybe something to do with DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. Whatever it was, the guy named Michael, who was roasted by the silver Iron Man, was obviously in charge of defenses, because there was no sign of continued opposition.
Finally, they reached another heavy door, like the one leading outside the bunker. Rose got to watch close up as the silver figure carved the door open and pulled it apart. The entity didn’t use its hands to bend the metal. It gestured like it was using its hands, but never actually touched the metal.
“Freaking Magneto,” the soldier who’d been using comic book analogies said.
The being stepped through, and Rose hurried to see where the door led. It was a room with a big glass cage. Inside the cage was a fox. All of this for a zoo exhibit? The fox was standing on its back legs and gesturing at something.
The silver entity turned, and a beam of light lanced from its hand. It was a much smaller beam than the one that killed Michael or was used to cut steel doors like they were butter. As soon as it fired, the glass cube threw off electric sparks, and the fox nodded. The silver thing went to the glass cube and pried one side open.
I can’t keep calling it the silver thing, Rose thought. How about Mercury?
The fox stepped out and looked up at Mercury whose head was inclined down to look at it. Then the fox turned its head and examined the soldiers. It looked back at Mercury, eyes narrowing, and stared for a moment. After a time, it once again looked at the soldiers, picked out Rose, and walked closer. Rose realized he should have been prepared to defend himself, but the creature looked like it should be stealing chickens, instead of deep inside an unknown government base.
“You are General Leon Rose,” it said in perfect English.
“Son of a bitch,” he said in surprise.
“I am to be addressed as First Scout. I’ve been a prisoner of this installation. My defensive avatar,” the creature gestured at Mercury, “believes you are not part of the people who held me here.”
“No, we’re not,” Rose said. “Who, or what, are you?”
“You would call me an extraterrestrial. An alien.”
“No shit!” the comic book private said.
Rose shot him a withering glare. Ayres grabbed the man’s battle harness and jerked it. The private shut up.
“The organization that held me here is called Project Genesis. They were formed in 1956, following my race’s first contact with your government. They were established to manage contact with my race when we returned. It didn’t go well.”
“What part of the US Government ran this place?” Rose asked.
“It was a…” First Scout’s eyes glazed over for a second. “It was an off-the-books operation loosely under control of the NSA, though they never fully understood what Genesis was for. The leaders o
f Genesis are known as the Heptagon, six scientific specialists and one military leader to manage the operation.”
“How do you know all of this? How can you speak English?”
“I have the ability to read computers from afar.”
“Woah!” the private said. This time Ayres pulled him from the room. Rose smiled. The kid was enthusiastic, but he had poor impulse control.
“That cage was a faraday cage, and it severely limited my abilities. Once my defensive avatar freed me, my full abilities came into play. Where is the one known as Michael?”
“Mercury burned his heart out.”
“Mercury?” First Scout asked.
“Oh, I’ve been thinking of your avatar thing by that name. It’s skin kinda looks like mercury.” First Scout stared at him. “Humans like to name stuff.” He shrugged. Mercury was staring at Rose, at least he thought it was.
“Very well, I will call it Mercury too.” First Scout looked at the machine, which nodded. First Scout did an unmistakable doubletake. “Anyway, I was able to make contact with another prisoner, a female of your race named Pearl Grange.”
“She’s here?” Rose asked excitedly. “We lost contact with her.”
“Grange discovered Project Genesis when they were moving my ship here. They sank her ship for her transgressions. She was able to get free and activate my avatar,” he gestured. “Mercury. I’m sorry, but she was badly injured and died in the effort.”
Rose looked down and shook his head. “That’s unfortunate. However, there’s another prisoner we’re looking for.”
“And I am looking for the rest of the Heptagon,” First Scout said. He gestured, and Mercury began moving again. Soldiers nearly fell over themselves getting out of its way.
“Follow them,” Rose ordered.
First Scout wasn’t fast, owing to his short stature. He was maybe three feet tall, yet Rose felt like he was in the presence of a much larger being. He was as self-assured as any command officer Rose had ever met. First Scout was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.
The procession continued until they came to a small elevator. Mercury used its patented door opening maneuver to reveal a stairwell adjacent to the elevator shaft. It was clear to Rose that the avatar was a defensive automaton.
First Scout and Mercury went down the stairs. Rose took point behind the descending pair, and Ayres insisted on being right by his General’s side. The stairwell went around three times and exited through a Mercury-mangled door that revealed a small area with yet another heavy, blast door. First Scout gestured to Mercury who opened it.
On the other side of the door was a bunker holding seven people. Rose looked past First Scout and Mercury. There were three men and four women. One of the women was in a mobility chair and standing next to her was Lisha Breda. She spotted him, and her expression went from confused fear at the site of First Scout and Mercury to excitement.
“Can that woman come out?” Rose asked First Scout.
The alien turned its pointy head and looked at Rose. “She is not one of the Heptagon?”
“No, she was kidnapped.”
“Then she may go.”
Lisha looked down at the woman in the mobility chair and seemed unsure.
“Lisha,” Rose said and gestured, “come on.”
“What is that robot going to do with them?” Lisha asked.
“I suspect they’re going to die, and I couldn’t care less.”
“Then I’m not leaving.”
“What?” Rose asked. “Lisha, a lot of people died to rescue you.”
“And these people risked their lives to let you win,” Lisha said, her eyes flashing.
“Lisha, I cannot stop them from doing whatever they want.”
“You can try.”
He sighed and shook his head. Why do some people have to be so fucking compassionate?
“First Scout?”
“I have been listening,” the alien said. “I have no intention of letting them go.”
“Haven’t enough people died?”
While Mercury stood next to the bunker door, waiting without moving, First Scout turned his head and regarded Rose. “Perhaps you are not aware of how I came to be in that cage? My ship was shot down from space. Most of my crew is dead. My ship is badly damaged. We were invited long ago, and this is the reception we got.
“After my ship crashed, they captured me,” He gestured at the men and women. “They did experiments on me. They tried to manipulate my brain to get more answers. They tortured Grange, who you expressed some concern about. By any definition you believe, they are evil.” Mercury’s head turned slightly toward First Scout as if it were listening.
“Not all of us,” the woman in the mobility chair said. “I am a tactical expert; a mathematical analyst.” She indicated a man who must have been an albino. “Azrael is an archeologist. Gabriel is a computer expert, a hacker. We didn’t lay a hand on you.”
“And the others?” First Scout asked.
“I cannot say what they may or may not have done.”
“You will not say, you mean?”
Chamuel shrugged. “I joined Project Genesis for a lot of reasons. One was the medical treatment I got, which was derived from your technology. We’re humans; we make mistakes. One was shooting your ship down. The next was allowing Michael to lead the Heptagon. We can’t change the first, you dealt with the second. We’re not perfect, but we’d like to help now.”
“First Scout,” Rose said. “Most of our planet is dead. The virus came from you, didn’t it?”
“An accident,” First Scout said. “You call it a virus; for my people, it is a machine. The best name would be Pandora.”
“Apt title,” Chamuel said.
“It is a powerful machine,” First Scout said. “Powerful and potentially deadly.”
“Its purpose doesn’t change what it did,” Rose said, “and I’d like to learn more. But the point I am trying to make is that there has been enough dying. I’d like to help you, and I hope you can help us. I am a soldier, but I’m asking you to stop the fighting. Let’s work together to sort this out, fairly, without indiscriminate killing. What do you say?”
First Scout stared at him for a long time with his beady little eyes. He looked back at the six members of the Heptagon and Lisha, then spoke. “Why do you defend them?” he asked Lisha. “Were you not their prisoner too?”
“Because Leon is right. There’s been enough killing. These people didn’t make the decisions, that was Michael.”
“I brought us all down here,” Chamuel said. “I stopped helping Michael and brought everyone down here, because I knew General Rose would prevail without our help.”
“You let Michael die, then,” Rose said. Chamuel nodded. “Hard call.”
“Not really,” Chamuel said. “Michael was an asshole who treated Genesis like his personal toy.” The other five Heptagon members nodded in agreement.
Rose could see a variety of expressions among those who called themselves the Heptagon. From fear to resignation. He was sure there was guilt there, to varying degrees. But he didn’t want to be the one to make a summary judgement. That’s what courts were for.
“We’ll have to hold a trial, review evidence, then decide.” He looked at First Scout. “This is our way. Justice will be served.”
“And if they are guilty?” First Scout asked.
“Then a punishment will be decided. One that fits the crime.”
“Our futures are tied together now,” First Scout said. “Very well. We will see what comes of your justice.”
Rose nodded, then wondered what the alien meant by their futures being tied together. Mercury turned and walked out with First Scout right behind. There was much to do; he’d have to figure it out some other time.
* * *
The Flotilla
165 Nautical Miles West of San Diego, CA
Kathy stared in amazement as a roughly round…thing flashed across the sky and stopped a few mil
es away. It was many thousands of feet up, floating like a cloud. Then it zipped sideways and stopped directly above them.
“Are you seeing this?” she asked Chris.
“Uhm, a floating city or something flitting around?”
“Okay, I’m not hallucinating. Oh, shit!”
The object plummeted toward them. There was a shuddering Boooom! and a blast of air sent people flying all over the carrier deck. Chris had his arm around her, so the two were merely knocked on their butts. The strange construct stopped descending only a hundred or so yards above them. Kathy tried to take it all in, but it was huge—many times the size of the carrier, which she also thought was huge. Her mind tried to reset her sense of large to a whole new scale.
“It’s made of containers!” Chris said, pointing.
Kathy’s eyes ran over the regular shapes and realized he was right. Hundreds of steel containers, all welded together. In the middle was a glass structure, like a gondola, hanging underneath. It was obviously run with the alien technology, but by who? She thought she could see people in the gondola. In fact, one seemed familiar.
Then, sound suddenly changed, and a shimmer was visible in the distance. A second later, the world was consumed with light. She screamed and put her hands over her eyes. Everyone around was yelling as well. She thought she could see the bones in her hands through her closed eyes. It only lasted a second, then quickly faded.
Kathy took her hands away from her eyes and looked around. In the distance, fire seemed to swirl around. In fact, it was in all directions. The water flashed and roiled, but she couldn’t feel any heat.
“The nuke hit,” Chris said, then pointed up. “That thing shielded us.”
“Wow,” Kathy said. “It must be the same shield that was around the ship when we were in space.”
“You know what?” Chris asked. “I think they came to your call.”
“What?”
“Your Edward R. Murrow transmission?” He pointed up again. “They heard it and came to our rescue.”
Her vision had almost returned to normal. The light had changed again, and when she gazed to the side, she saw that they were flying. The structure above them, the carrier, and all the ships of the Flotilla. To one side, fading into the distance, a mushroom cloud was still climbing into the sky.
Turning Point (Book 3): A Time To Live Page 41