“Oh no, Doctor,” the Russian replied. “Please, do not be mistaken. My previous national loyalties have nothing to do with my current loyalties.” He paused, laughing lightly. “You yourself can remember how, ah, generously the German rocket scientists of World War II, who were only days from perfecting the V-2 which would have burned England to dust and changed the fate of the war, were received by your own government. They were lauded as heroes, and American cities, streets, and civic centers were named after them. But if these same scientists had succeeded in fully developing the V-2 rocket before 1944, Germany would have decisively won the war. And within a few more years, Hitler would have possessed the intercontinental ballistic missile along with the hydrogen bomb that it would deliver. Then, to be cruel, Hitler would have crossed the Atlantic to invade American soil. And quite probably would have won.” He paused.
“But after the Allied invasion at Normandy, the war was lost,” he added. “And Hitler’s famed V-2 rocket scientists were offered American citizenships and received into NASA and every other private and military enterprise with open arms. Because military and monetary expertise overrule all other commandments, Doctor. Or sins. And for that reason, Frank, I am committed to ensuring that your government is the first and only country to possess the power of Leviathan. I would have preferred to have worked beside you. But you refused. So the situation eventually worked to my advantage. You defied the mandate of the project, refusing to cooperate, so you have been outcast. And now I alone possess the power of the Dragon.”
“So what are you saying?” Frank asked. “You’re saying that we have to rush the tests and confirm Leviathan’s true potential so Stygian can close their deal with the government?” He shook his head, arguing the point in desperation. “But why can’t other nations share the technology? Other nations share atomic weapons, and everyone uses treaties to control their use! The same could be done with Leviathan!”
“No, no, Doctor.” Tolvanos frowned. “What I am saying is that the time has come for you to reluctantly accept the truth.” He paused, an exasperated professor staring upon a disappointing student. “We have surpassed the age of treaties, Frank. And you are far, far too intelligent not to realize it. Neither America, nor the powers which control America, can any longer risk the tenuous security of treaties. That is the truth which your moral blindness has prevented you from recognizing from the beginning.” Tolvanos hesitated, frowning. “The simple truth that has evaded you, Doctor, is this: America can, and will, use Leviathan to control the entire world. That is why America does not wish for any other country to have its equal.”
Frank stared at the Russian. “But ... but how are they going to do that? If America ever used Leviathan against any country that possessed a nuclear arsenal there would be an immediate nuclear response!”
“And how could that be, Doctor?” Tolvanos posed, pausing as if he were willing to wait forever for an answer. “Leviathan is simply a beast. It would come from the sea and return to the sea. No one would know that America was responsible for the atrocity. Leviathan would rise from the ocean as the beast of ancient lore to destroy a single city, army, nation, or even a targeted individual. And absolutely nothing on the face of the earth, save a nuclear holocaust, could stop it.” He paused. “No nation would ever call down a nuclear holocaust upon itself. So they would be left with conventional defenses which would, of course, be wholly inefficient. And eventually, within a few short years, the entire world could be brought to the feet of the very men who control the Dragon.”
Frank closed his eyes. “I’ll talk,” he said simply. “I swear to you, I’ll talk. I won’t let you do this.”
He felt Tolvanos staring upon him, almost sympathetically. “No, Doctor. I doubt very seriously that you shall talk.”
Frank looked up hard. “You’re crazy, Tolvanos. You people can kill me if you want. I know you can. But it won’t make any difference because Leviathan can’t be controlled. Leviathan has brought itself into its own Hunter-killer Mode, and it cannot differentiate between friendly and non-friendly organisms! Don’t you get it? Leviathan’s unstable DNA promoted itself ahead of programming, and it doesn’t have any program parameters to limit prey. It’s not going to work with anybody! If Leviathan ever gets out of that cavern it’s going to kill every living thing on the face of the earth! Everything! Including us! Because Leviathan actually believes with all its heart that it has to kill every other living thing on the planet in order to survive! It’s something that can’t be corrected! It’s too late to undo what’s been done!”
“I don’t agree with you, Doctor,” Tolvanos said. “And I will tell you that I am not, as you say, crazy.” He stared down. “Crazy is a man who throws away his life because he will not finish an experiment that will be finished with or without his help.”
Adler spoke. “The situation is out of your hands, Doctor.”
“Nothing is out of my hands!” Frank shouted, glaring. Tolvanos had taken his headset, but Frank knew that the panel microphone of GEO was still activated. “Nothing! All I have to do is tell GEO to wipe out everything in her memory and the backups and then you won’t have anything but an uncontrollable creature. And you’ll never be able to find the right formula to repeat the genetic transformation of another Komodo dragon. It’ll be gone!”
Tolvanos froze and Adler paled, sweat gleaming on his face. Instantly Frank realized that they had never anticipated this movement. They had been caught completely off guard.
A long moment passed as Frank gazed over the edge, his entire life’s work almost gone with a single command. Then slowly, entreatingly, Adler lifted a hand. “Listen, son,” he began, “let’s discuss this rationally. I respect you, Frank. Truly, I do. You’re a great scientist. Certainly you don’t think I would ever go against your—”
“What is going on in here?”
Frank felt a long withheld breath leave his chest as a livid Chesterton—followed by a big black man, Lieutenant Barley— stalked into the room. They were followed closely by two Rangers.
Shocked by Chesterton’s vivid anger and Barley’s glaring, warrior aspect, Tolvanos science team parted like water to leave a wide and cautious wake. As Barley came through the door he sharply turned his head toward the two soldiers behind him.
“Secure it!” he snapped.
Instantly the Rangers divided solidly to either side of the exit, M-16s frozen at port arms. Their intent was immediately clear: Absolutely no one, armed or unarmed, was leaving this room dead or alive without Chesterton’s permission.
Tolvanos and Adler stepped backward toward the control matrix as Chesterton halted beside Frank, glaring down, and Frank saw a quick suspicion flicker in the dark eyes. Somehow, Frank knew that Chesterton understood, had even expected this. Then Chesterton turned with a menacing frown toward Tolvanos. His voice was low.
“And just who are you?”
Adler gathered himself, spoke distinctly: “Dr. Tolvanos is... uh, replacing Frank as head of the science team, Colonel. In fact, all the members of Frank’s team have been replaced. I believe the strain has become too much for them.”
“Nobody’s replacing anybody as long as I’m around, Mr. Adler. This isn’t musical chairs at a Halloween carnival. We’re running a secure facility here and I’m still in charge of who comes and goes.”
A voice came from the side, entering the debate. “I am afraid that you are not ultimately in charge, Colonel. Not any longer.”
Imperious, the portly man in the dark green uniform had spoken for the first time. And Frank focused on him; the man was well into his fifties and much shorter than Chesterton, his short black hair heavy with gray. Behind him, the black-clad soldiers stepped forward.
“I must remind you, Colonel Chesterton,” he added, somewhat cautiously, “that this project remains under Executive Command. And I inform you that I am now your commanding supervisor.”
Chestert
on stared, his eyes flickered over the insignia. “Blake?” he asked, peering. “Colonel Blake of the National Security Agency?”
Blake nodded.
Implacable, Chesterton shook his head. “This facility doesn’t answer to the NSA, Blake. It’s under Pentagon control.”
“Not any longer, Colonel Chesterton.”
“What do you mean?” Chesterton’s voice hardened. “What do you mean that it’s not under Pentagon control any longer? Who gave the NSA authority to take over my operation?”
Blake stepped forward, removing papers from inside his uniform. He handed them to Chesterton with a solemn air, clasping both hands patiently behind his back as Chesterton read. He was forced to wait a long time. Finally Chesterton looked up.
“I don’t like this, Blake.”
“That is an Executive Order, Chesterton.”
“Neither the NSA, the CIA, the Director of Central Intelligence, nor any subordinate of the DCI has the authority to control an Army weapons system,” Chesterton said, dead steady. “Not unless they do it according to Act 186-4 of the Senate Intelligence Oversight Committee of 1976, which requires that, the United States Army supervises and maintains and ultimately controls the use of all such weapons systems.”
“Act 186 has no relevance to this situation because it has not yet been demonstrably proven that Leviathan is a weapons system, Colonel Chesterton. That Executive Order grants me the authority to oversee all further research. And further, in case you have forgotten, I am a colonel in the United States Army.”
“Blake, you can rest assured. That thing is a weapons system.”
“But tests have not proven that to be a fact, Chesterton.”
A long pause and Chesterton growled, “Well, this may be an Executive Order, Blake, but I’ll need to confirm it before any of you take a single step in this facility.”
Blake responded with force. “That paper comes from the highest level, Colonel. The very, very highest level. And in case you didn’t notice, it’s been initialed by your own superiors in the Pentagon.” Blake lifted his chin, pushing it forward. “I formally advise you, Colonel Chesterton, that you are relieved of duty.”
“Am I?” Chesterton snarled, stepping into it. “Barley!”
Barley snapped his head to the door. “Lock and load!”
Instantly the two Rangers loudly chambered rounds into the M-16s, faces dead calm. And Barley’s aspect became utterly dangerous. He placed a hand solidly on the Beretta pistol at his waist, standing behind Chesterton like granite.
Blake stepped back and shouted to the black-clad MPs.
“Lock and load!”
Chambered rounds thundered across the room from the MPs, and Frank felt his head go light. Then with a movement too quick to follow Barley had jerked out his pistol and thumbed the hammer back instantly to place the barrel point-blank against the nose of the MP Lieutenant.
With the touch Barley’s finger had taken all the slack from the trigger of the semiautomatic, and the MP’s face went stark white. His hands dropped limply from his weapon.
Barley’s voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
“You’ll be the first,” he whispered to the MP, a cold nod.
The MP Lieutenant nodded, raising his hands to his sides. Then he gestured quickly, almost frantically, to the rest of the black-clad soldiers who were obviously not regular Army or they wouldn’t have surrendered, and they also lowered their weapons.
Implacable and vengeful and terrible, Chesterton stepped forward until he was face to face with Blake. Frank suddenly realized that if anybody got killed, Barley would put the MP Lieutenant at the head of the crowd. And Chesterton would personally take out Blake, no matter what else happened in the room.
Chesterton’s angry voice rumbled in the tense silence. “You want to go head to head with me, Blake? You want to see who’s really been relieved?” Blake blinked, his face white. Took another step backward.
“Be . . . b-b-be assured, Colonel Chesterton, that. . . that I-I-I’ve been informed of your credentials!” Blake drew a quick breath. “I know very well that you’re … that y-y-you’re West Point. Fourth in your class. Just as I know that y-y-you demanded ... very, very adamantly demanded ... to command a Special Force Battalion during Desert Storm.”
Chesterton frowned, eyes darkening.
“Your decision was certainly noble, Colonel,” Blake continued, standing more solidly. “And I know that you ... ah, personally led your battalion to more campaign victories than any other commander of the war. But your stubborn decision to remain in combat, Colonel, also . . . ah, also stalled your career. Your determination to command the soldiers of a Special Forces Battalion during the conflict was—”
“It was a war, boy. Not a conflict.”
Blake hesitated. “Yes, of course . . . but, ah, your stubborn determination to command a Special Forces Battalion during the . . . the war . . . removed you from a circle of career-minded candidates.” Blake paused. “Candidates who laid the groundwork for advancement while you were out of the country. And, just to remind you, Chesterton, you are still a Lieutenant Colonel, an 06. While I am an 05. A full bird. So I have the rank, Chesterton. And an Executive Order. And the authority of the Pentagon! So I believe you should carefully consider just how much you are willing to defy!”
Blake glanced at the others, who seemed mesmerized by the conflict.
“I am not sure that this is even the best place for this discussion, Chesterton. But the fact remains that those orders were issued from the Executive Office and signed by your own chain of command. And, regardless of your personal objections, you are still under Pentagon control.”
Silence.
“You know,” Chesterton said slowly, eyes hardening like black diamonds, and just as impenetrable, “I’ve never liked working with any of you guys, Blake. Because I know that whenever Black Ops takes command of good soldiers, then good soldiers get killed. I saw it in the war. In Beirut. Somalia. Rowanda. It’s always the same story. You desk-riding goons don’t know the job, and you’re too stupid to admit it. But some civilian who’s been appointed to a Cabinet post always gives you a command.’’
Blake laughed. “Certainly, Colonel, someone with your consummate credentials will not disobey orders from the highest level. After all, you and I are part of the military machine.”
“I’m not a machine, Blake.” Chesterton leaned even farther forward, eye to eye. “I’m a gentleman and a professional soldier in the United States Army. And I have a duty to defend my men and protect my government’s interests.”
“As do I,” Blake responded flatly.
“No you don’t, Blake. You work for those clowns in the NSA who send good men to their deaths because they don’t have the foggiest idea what real war is all about. You fight a war with polls and toothpicks and little flags. You have no idea what it’s like to share the same foxhole and food and ammo as your men just so you can turn a hostile sector into your backyard. You don’t know what it’s like to watch your men die. Or what it’s like to write their mammas back home to tell them the only boy they’ll ever have in their entire life just died like a man.”
“We’re both soldiers, Colonel,” Blake responded. “We are expendable assets of our government.”
Chesterton’s teeth gritted. “None of my men are expendable, Blake. And I’m going to need confirmation on this.”
“You shall have it, Colonel,” Adler said, stepping forward. “In the morning we shall open communications with the Pentagon so that you can confirm whatever—”
“Open communications?” Chesterton shouted. He looked like he would strike Adler without any hesitation at all. “What do you mean ‘open communications’? I’ve got three platoons of Rangers, and I’ve got the authority and equipment to communicate with my superiors whenever I deem it necessary and prudent.”
�
��Not any longer, Colonel,” Adler returned, implacable. “Colonel Blake can explain the situation.”
Utterly hostile, Chesterton turned to Blake. “Well, Blake? I need an explanation right now.”
“To ensure security, communications are now coded,” Blake responded quickly. “They are coded with an NSA encryption known only to Mr. Adler and myself. So this facility’s communications link has now been switched to an NSA satellite which comes in range every four hours. And I sincerely hope that this will not be, ah, a source of tension between us. It is only a temporary procedure.”
“You’re pushing it, Blake. You are on very, very dangerous ground.”
Blake swayed. “The Army is like a machine, Colonel. It is a machine of men. You know that, and I know that. So we do as we are told. We do as we are told or the machine breaks down. And orders, in the end, are orders. Especially when they are issued from the highest office in the land.”
A slow acknowledgment settled over Chesterton. Frank saw it coming and tried to stop it. “Don’t let them do this, Chesterton!” he interjected. “They’re going to wake up Leviathan!”
Chesterton gazed down, frowning. And without even looking, Barley knew what Chesterton had decided. The big lieutenant slowly lowered his pistol from the face of the MP Commander, still staring the man in the eye.
“Everything is under control, Colonel Chesterton,” Adler said, forceful again. “You are, after all, a professional. You are part of the, ah, machine. The simple truth is that you are under orders from your own government to submit to Colonel Blake’s command. But I do assure you, for your own peace of mind, that we will use every possible security measure.” He turned to gesture. “Dr. Tolvanos is the leading man in this held, and he understands the creature quite well. But first I suggest that you remove Dr. Frank, at least temporarily, from the Observation Room. He appears to be overstressed. Then we can discuss this matter more thoroughly and iron out any details that might concern you. Afterwards we—”
Thrilled to Death Page 110