Stolen Worlds

Home > Fantasy > Stolen Worlds > Page 9
Stolen Worlds Page 9

by Bob Blink


  The Secretary of Defense nodded and then spoke. "Three of the vehicles. That leaves a reserve back at the base and allows a team of six armed men to make the trip. Figure it out. I want them on the way in two days."

  "Armed?" the Speaker asked.

  "You bet your ass," General Easystone replied. "This isn't a detente welcoming party. These bastards, whatever they are, have already declared war on us."

  "Can we take them out?" General Markham asked. "Maybe that would be the better move. Hit them before they realize we know where they are."

  Secretary Billings glanced briefly at Gwen, then said, "We'll talk about that in a bit. What I want to know if whether we can use this same magnetic anomaly approach to find out if there are any hidden facilities here on Earth. It seems like the satellite visuals could have misled us, and using that little comparator would take years to check every location on the planet."

  "It would be considerably more difficult," Tony said uncomfortably. "The surface area is greater, but more importantly the Earth's magnetic field is far, far greater, which means the site signature would be masked to a much greater degree. The processing power to run the calculations would be immense."

  "The government has a few computers," General Easystone replied. He glanced over at the NSA Director. "I believe you have a couple. I think this should be something right up your alley."

  Wally Peterson, the NSA Director nodded. "We would need someone to work with our computer techs to guide their efforts and help interpret the data. We would also need access to the data files that would be used for input."

  "Easy enough," the Secretary Billings said. He glanced at Tony. "I want you on a plane to DC in two hours. I'll have a C-37A standing by at LAX as soon as you can be ready. Don't worry about clothes or other shit like that. We'll give you funds to take care of that on the other end. I suggest that Dr. Allen and this young lady go along."

  "Two hours?" Tony asked, glancing at Gwen who looked as surprised as him.

  "I'd prefer sooner if possible. You three can go now. I'll have the plane there as soon as possible, and Colonel Gellman can escort you to the hangar where you can board it."

  Numbly, Tony nodded. This was happening a bit too fast for him. He stood, taking Gwen's hand, and followed Dr. Allen out of the conference room.

  Once the three were gone and the door closed again, the Secretary of Defense surveyed the group. "Hollister, what do we have on the Florida launch pad at the moment?"

  "Two falcon heavies," the NASA Director asked. "Why?"

  "Get the payloads off and prepare to change the manifest. I'll need a breakdown of the capsule and what gross weight we can get to the moon."

  He shifted his focus to Air Force General Markham. "Get your people at Tranquility Base ready to receive a classified payload. I'm going to have several nukes sent as soon as I can arrange for them to be delivered to the Cape."

  "You're thinking of using nuclear weapons on this suspect alien site?" the VP asked. "You will need Presidential approval, perhaps UN approval to do something like that."

  "At this point I'm just making sure we have the means if that option develops. It takes a few days to get stuff up there, and I want it in place when I want it." He pointed at the VP. "I'd like you to convey my thinking to the President. As for the other nations, General Easystone will arrange another call with the necessary players in two hours. They need to know what we have learned, and participate in the Earth search, and maybe help get gear in place for whatever kind of assault we elect to mount against this place in the crater."

  A few minutes later, while they broke for a few minutes, Secretary Billings pulled both Bud Hollister and General Markham aside. In the room, after he'd closed the door, he turned to the two men.

  "Talk to me about this drive across the moon. Can we do it?"

  When he didn't get an immediate answer, he said, "Come on Charlie. These will be your men. Is this thing doable or not?"

  "It's necessary," the General said, "but it's damn risky."

  "I'd guess best case one of the three vehicles makes it back to Shackleton," NASA's Bud Hollister said. "That means of the six men sent out at the start, two will be walking, if they are still alive at all. In all likelihood, they won't be."

  "Why?" Billings asked. "I thought someone said the vehicles were designed to make such a trip."

  "The specifications called out as much," Hollister admitted. "That doesn't mean they were built that way, or that we even know what that means up there. The moon is still pretty much new territory for us. We don't know what it has to offer, good or bad. To date, a trip of less than a hundred miles is the farthest anyone has gone from the base. We are talking a trip on another planetary body where there is zero support and no previous presence that is equivalent to driving over halfway across the United States."

  "And you don't think these buggies can do it?"

  "I honestly don't know, but there is no triple-A out there, and repairs are going to be all but impossible if needed. Pretty much if something breaks, you leave it behind."

  "The men will be in pressure suits of one kind or another the entire trip," General Markham added. "That means driving, eating, sleeping, moving supplies, whatever, they have to be in those suits. We haven't had suits exposed to this kind of heavy duty continuously before either. They can tear, spring leaks, or be punctured by micrometeorites. We have patches, but how many times and how well will they hold under extreme use? As for external repairs, they would have to be performed in those clumsy suits, with tools that we probably wouldn't have room to bring along."

  "You also have to consider the day and night cycle," Bud Hollister said. "This is a trip that will probably take eighteen days there and back. That's a large portion of the cycle, and how much is night depends on when we leave. We probably don't want to delay for the optimum time, so a significant number of nights. The arrays won't be getting power, and we can only carry so much fuel for the power cells, even if we bring along the trailers. Remember, once night comes, you have fourteen continuous days of dark. Even if you weren't driving, you need power for lights and heat. It goes down a couple of hundred degrees in the night up there."

  "This sounds much different than what I heard inside," Secretary Billings said. "It sounds like an unacceptable risk."

  "Things could go smoothly," General Markham said. "With three vehicles with trailers and all the supplies packed into them, the trip might surprise us. But we need to be prepared for losses. I am certain not all of those who set off will return. Maybe none of them will. Sadly, and these are my men, what we need to learn is too important not to risk them. But, we need to consider that the odds of getting there are far better than their getting back. We need an absolutely foolproof way of communication so they can tell us what they find, before they attempt the return trip. That way we know, even if we lose everyone of them."

  "We can't send more men?" Billings asked. "And buggies with supplies?"

  "It simply compounds the issue. The extra supplies would be needed for the additional men, and the same kind of percentage failure could be expected of the additional gear. There would be some payoff, but it is probably very small and the better approach would be to hold them in reserve and hope to be able to go out after them if they get stranded on the way back. That's less mileage on the buggies and the other men."

  "This is very disconcerting," Billings said honestly. "I want the plan made, but with it an honest assessment of the probability of success."

  "It depends on how you define success," General Markham explained. "I can tell you there is a very high probability we will be able to get eyes on the site. I can also tell you there is a very high probability that none of those sent off will make it back alive. The moon is not a friendly place."

  Chapter 11

  "Wham, Bam, Thank you Mam," Gwen said softly as the Air Force C-37A cleared the ground, their flight officially underway.

  "What?" Tony asked, a bit surprised by the comment.


  "Your General friend very neatly and expertly excused us from the rest of that meeting," she said. "Now, here we go all the way across the country and away from anyone we might want to talk to things about. Did you notice we never got our phones back?"

  "Oversight," Dr. Allen suggested, but now that it had been brought to his attention, Tony wondered.

  "Why do they feel the need to be so secretive?" Gwen asked. "They couldn't just talk with us at home, they had us drive into a place where they had a secure facility and an encrypted line. Who are they afraid might overhear something? The Russians? I'll bet they are on the line to them right now. We are, after all, in this thing together. Holding back information is beyond counterproductive, it's just plain stupid at this point."

  "Some of it is probably habit," Professor Allen suggested. "It's a way of life with some of these people. You conceal anything that might be important, in part because you can."

  "It's probably the aliens," Tony guessed. "We are dealing with a race that must be thousands of years ahead of us, and we don't have any idea of their capabilities, and whether they can or might be listening in on us."

  "What would it matter?" Gwen asked. "I'd guess they can cream us anytime."

  "You weren't at a conversation we had a while back. The Russian astronomer had an interesting point that the secretive approach these guys have been following suggests they have a weakness somewhere. He believes the aliens aren't as invulnerable as all the invasion movies would like us to believe."

  "So?"

  "So, even though General Easystone probably doesn't believe they are listening, he hopes they can't break our codes to see what the communication was about. If he's wrong on both counts, he's done all he can other than not hold the call, which means we lose anyway."

  "Hmmmm," Gwen said, turning the idea over in her mind. "What do you want to bet he's ordering up some all purpose nuclear weapons even as we wing it off to the East Coast?"

  "We don't even know if those would work," Dr. Allen noted. "He seemed very interested in scouting the facility."

  "Yeah, but he's the type who'd want a powerful backup on hand. Wanna bet there will be a launch carrying some special goodies toward the moon within a day or so. Just so they get there in time to handle things if the scouting effort fails."

  Tony grimaced at the realization that his girlfriend was probably right.

  "Well, whatever they are doing, it looks like you aren't part of it anymore. You've been sidelined and pushed out of things."

  "I don't think so," Tony argued. "There are a lot of ways they could have cut us out of the loop. I think I've been invited in. The search for any Earth-based sites like the one we think we've found on the moon is one of the highest priorities, and Dr. Allen and I will be right in the thick of that search. It's probably the best use for me, since I'm not going to be making any assaults on alien facilities."

  "And for the foreseeable future, I'll be the designated shopper," she replied. "Where do you think we'll be staying?" she asked. "Hopefully not on some drab old military base."

  Neither had an answer, so Gwen took to examining their transport.

  "It must be nice to be important and powerful, and able to order up something like this anytime you get a yen to go somewhere," she said, running her hands across the rich leather of her seat. She'd already experimented with the reclining function when they'd been waiting for departure, and knew it would fully recline to make a comfortable bed.

  "What about food?" she asked. "I'm actually getting a bit hungry."

  Tony took that as a positive sign. Gwen hadn't wanted to eat this morning, and she was usually one for a solid breakfast.

  "They said the crew was smaller than usual and we might have to fend a bit for ourselves, but I'm certain there is food on board. How about we knock and ask?"

  Dr. Allen walked up to the cabin door that separated their area from the flight deck and knocked solidly. A moment later and a middle-aged airman stuck his head through.

  "Yes?" he asked.

  "Is there anything to eat on board?" Professor Allen asked.

  The airman nodded and stepped through, closing the door behind him.

  "We didn't have time to properly stock the aircraft," he explained apologetically. "There hadn't been a flight scheduled until the last minute. The only thing we have are these," he said, showing them a small freezer stacked with appeared to be frozen dinners.

  "Wonderful," Tony said, staring at the frozen blocks.

  "Actually these are pretty good, "the airman said. "They are filet steaks, with a rice pilaf, and some mixed veggies. Throw them in the microwave for five minutes, and you'll be all set. There's beer and soda in the fridge, and several kinds of wine in the special rack at the bar. Oh, and there's china if you want, or you can eat out of the trays. Normally there would be someone to handle this, but it's pretty straightforward."

  The man waited to see if there were questions. When Tony nodded and said, "we've got it," the man turned and returned up front to the cockpit.

  While the meals were cooking, you could actually cook up to five at a time in the special microwave, they rearranged the cabin. The chairs could be unlocked, and slid in special groves over to the large oval table in the center of the cabin, then locked in place. By the time the meal, which turned out to be better than ok, was ready, they were all gathered around the table.

  "I still wonder where we'll be staying," Gwen said when they'd finished the meal, "but in the meantime I'm taking a nap."

  Chapter 12

  Washington, DC

  Pentagon

  As the calls were being placed, the Secretary of Defense considered whether he was doing the right thing. The issue at hand affected the entire human race, not just a few countries, so representatives of all nations rightly had a say in how mankind should proceed, yet he was about to engage in a planning discussion with just two of the world's powers. There would be hell to pay when others found out, yet this seemed the proper approach. Too many cooks, especially cooks without the resources to participate in a solution, would simply slow them down.

  He'd chosen to involve Russia and China. He couldn't help being amused at the fact they were the two nations that represented the greatest thorn in the side of the United States these past years, but in fact would view the current situation in much the same light as the U.S., making agreeing to a course of action much easier. He grimaced to himself as he realized in many ways they were more similar than one usually liked to admit, which was a bit disturbing.

  Both countries were militarily powerful with a considerable nuclear arsenal, and both were space capable. China had backed off of late due to economic shortfalls the past five years, but it was known they had a very large stockpile of rockets waiting for use, hidden away in caves near their southern launch site. Russia had a program every bit as vigorous as the United States. While the U.S. might have two bases on the moon, the one at Shackleton and the other smaller facility at Tranquility, Russia had the base at Peary Crater near the North Pole. That was by far the largest base on the moon, with five times the manpower of the two American bases combined.

  Up to now, the cooperation between the three countries on this matter had been productive, but it had involved mostly scientists from the respective nations, and they always played better together than either politicians or military. He wondered just how much each group would hold back given the stakes and the common enemy. Sadly, he knew he'd already been directed by the President regarding several topics that he was to avoid.

  "Russia's on the line," his aide informed the group that was growing a bit impatient. Secretary Billings knew the time difference plus the fact he'd asked to speak with General Nikolai Sokolov, his counterpart in Russia as well as the astronomer Bykov who had participated in the scientific exchanges would have slowed things on that end, plus the likely fact their President would almost certainly have been contacted regarding the request.

  "Nikolai," the Secretary Billings said enthusiast
ically when the other announced his presence. The two had met several times, and despite the friction that often manifested itself between the countries, the two men had gotten along quite well. Nikolai was a big man. Not so much tall, as wide. Standing just under six feet, he was thick in the body, neck, and face. His jowly cheeks were ruddy, indicating a willingness to sample the country's best vodka, and the thickness of his waist suggested more than a modest interest in table warfare. Even so, he was said to be one of the country's best tacticians.

  "Good afternoon, Mark," the Russian General replied in flawless English. The Secretary wished he could do even roughly as well in Russian, but beyond a few greetings and knowing how to order a beer, he was at the mercy of interpreters most of the time. At least this conversation would be in a language everyone understood. "You have learned something?" Nikolai asked.

  "I believe so," Secretary Billings replied. "It will take a bit of explaining, so if you could hold on a moment, we are waiting for General Ming Tao to join us. That way we can do this once."

  Nikolai didn't get along as well with the Chinese General, and grunted at the realization it was going to be that kind of call. If the truth be known, Secretary Billings didn't personally like the man either, but he was a professional, and had been moderately accommodating in the past. He also spoke English. Why was it everyone else spoke English and Americans seldom spoke any other language?

  "The Chinese are on now," the aide reported.

  General Ming Tao was almost the exact opposite of Sokolov. He was thin and wiry. His hair, what was left of it, was wispy and gray, as was the long beard he wore. The dark eyes still held fire, and Secretary Billings suspected those thin arms would surprise anyone foolish enough to attempt hand to hand combat with the grizzled old warrior.

  General Ming Tao glanced at those on the video conference and immediately realized the purpose. "You have developments," he stated.

 

‹ Prev