by Bob Blink
Dawson was in his mid-forties, just shy of six feet tall, with still short trimmed black hair and a powerful frame. The fact that the lower portion of his left leg below the knee was artificial was the reason he was no longer the kind of agent he'd once been, but that didn't mean he was any less formidable. He grinned happily at the thought of charging off into an undefined engagement once again after being so long focused on telemetry and satellite images.
Colonel Hope was taller and leaner. At six-foot four inches, with thin sandy colored hair and deep blue eyes, he was every bit the kind of soldier that would excel in the special forces, and in fact had served in the organization much of his career. Senior now, his opportunities for direct involvement were also limited, but this particular situation called for top level participation, and given the likely fate of the world, nothing could have kept him away even if his orders hadn't specifically directed his personal participation and oversight.
The GPS units indicated they had four hundred thirty seven miles to their objective, but the actual route would be longer, since a straight-line shot wasn't likely given the kind of country they were slated to travel through. If they could average forty-five miles an hour, they would reach their destination in ten hours, but it was very unlikely they could maintain that average. The first part of the mission would move quickly as they followed the highway through MacDonnell National Park, slipping between the low hills of the MacDonnell Ranges. These reddish brown mountains were once as high as any of the tallest of the Himalayas, towering over ten thousand meters, but the millions of years of relentless weathering had reduced them to mere hills. Among the oldest mountains on Earth, the highest point now was a mere 1531 meters.
Once they left the park and highway behind, they would be traveling cross-country across landscape that was without roads, and subject to the whims of mother nature. Their speed would be controlled by the terrain they must cross, sometimes allowing a reasonable pace, and other times restricted to a mere crawl. If they wanted to get there before nightfall, they would have to travel without stopping until darkness brought them to a halt. That was one reason why they were starting so early. The other was the fact that it was a mere two days and three hours before the deadly meteor was due to hit the Earth, and they wanted to conclude this mission successfully before that happened, in case what they learned would be of use to any survivors of that impact. Most had resigned themselves to the idea this was likely their last mission, and they intended to do it right. A couple of hours after setting off, they drove off the end of the road, and began their mission in earnest.
This part of the Outback wasn't what most would have pictured. It wasn't desert in the sense of the fabled Sahara, with thick sand extending to the horizon in every direction. There was sand, but mostly there was ancient, worn sandstone rock, and eroded hills and valleys. The sun beat unmercilously down on the ground, and water was the rarest of resources. Less precipitation fell here than almost anywhere in the world. But that didn't mean that the area was barren. Stubborn life of many types fought to survive. Small shrimps breed in the depressions that catch the limited water, and plants and grasses of many types bloom and seed in the short life allowed them after a rain shower. Wallaroos, dingoes and rabbits somehow managed to survive.
Some hours after leaving the highway they made a detour around the Henbury craters. Formed some five thousand years ago when a several thousand ton meteor broke into pieces and formed the twelve impact craters, the bowls now provided a heaven for some of the rugged vegetation since they collect and held more water than the surrounding areas. The sight of the blasted holes couldn't help but bring everyone's thought back to the much more massive boulder heading their way at this very moment.
The craters weren't the only detours they had to contend with. The rocky ground, often laced with wind worn ravines made any straight-line progress difficult. The sun was brutal, and if not for the air conditioning, they would have arrived with their strength sapped by the constant heat. As is was, they didn't make their intended location, but driving at night had its own risks in this kind of terrain, and the decision was made to make camp, and set off at first light. Even if they reached their intended camp, there would be nothing to do until morning anyway, and risking a broken axle made the idea of pressing on risky.
The tents they brought were two man affairs, zippered against the curiosity and potential dangers of some of the local inhabitants. Dinner was the Australian version of MREs, which was faster and didn't require a campfire, or bush telly in the local jargon. They had propane stoves, but while they were still almost fifty kilometers short of their ultimate goal, light out here could be seen an incredible distance, and who knew who or what might be watching.
With little to do, the men turned in early, the cool of the evening a pleasant change from the bright, relentless heat of the day.
"How bad do you think it will be?" Colonel Hope asked Clyde when they were zipped up in their own tent, the light of the screen from one of their cell phones providing the only illumination. "One of our astronomers who has been part of this whole alien thing from the beginning apparently ran his own calculations and he apparently claims we are going to get hit about as close to dead center as possible."
"If that's the case, and these interlopers don't take some action, I guess we will be going the way of the dinosaurs," Dawson said.
"Damn, that's the truth," the Colonel agreed. "The intel we were sent said that it is supposed to be fifty times the size of the one that took them buggers out. It said we'd probably have the equivalent to a nuclear winter for fifty years or more, and even if someone survived that I guess we'll have been dragged away from the sun then anyway. Makes me wonder what we think we are doing out here."
"Looking for answers," Dawson replied. "If the thing misses, or if it is somehow turned by these buggers, what we find might help us. Might as well go down fighting. I wish we could grab a couple of these guys if we see them, but the word has been to stand down on that."
"Well, one way or another, we'll know tomorrow. It's about two hours drive from here if we make the same rate as we have been. We'll park about five klicks short of the supposed base and hike in. Not sure what they will have to monitor the area, but we should be able to blend in until we get really close."
Clyde nodded. He'd never tested his artificial leg in this kind of situation for that long, but he'd make it one way or another. He'd covered longer stretches under worse conditions in the past.
"Wish we had a bunch of Sheila's out here," Hope said. "Would like to go out happy, if you know what I mean."
"Anyone in particular?" Dawson asked.
"Yeah, actually, but she and I had a bit of a falling out when I was in Sydney last leave time. Don't think I'll be seeing her any more."
"Probably won't matter. It's starting to look like we won't be seeing anyone any more."
They were up well before the sun, another round of MREs, their gear stowed, and ready to set off as soon as there was sufficient light to allow the path to be seen. An hour and forty minutes later they pulled to a stop in a large depression just over three and a half miles from the coordinates they'd been directed to examine.
Everyone threw on their packs, grabbed a last drink of their bottled water in the BPMVs so as to save what they had in their canteens, shouldered their H&K416s, and they set off. It was cool for the moment, something that was bound to change, but not before they reached their goal. Coming back might be a bastard, but they'd have the motivation of getting back to their vehicles with the promise of food, water, and transportation to help them along.
Other than a couple of snakes and a wily and concerned dingo, they saw nothing until they got very close. Then what had looked like more Outback stretching off forever started to change shape, and looked like a smudgy cap over something else.
"That's got to be it," Sgt. Larson said in heavily accented Australian.
Clyde Dawson had learned that there wasn't just one Australian
accent during the several years he'd spent in the country. Some Australians spoke almost the same English as himself. Most had a unique and actually delightful accent that was completely understandable except for the colorful words they'd added to the language. Then there were all the other variants, with some, like that of Sgt. Larson, who could barely be understood even by the other Australians.
"Think so," Dawson replied, guessing at what the other had said.
"Major, you form up the men, get as close as you feel you can without giving yourself away, and then make a circle around the thing. Take as many pictures as possible."
"Don't touch the barrier," Dawson warned. "We believe that is what alerted the aliens to the Aborigine's presence and got one of them killed. We'd like to watch and not be detected, if possible."
"Rules of Engagement?" the Major asked.
"If you are discovered or attacked, you are authorized to take whatever reciprocal action you deem necessary. Radio silence is lifted in that case, and if you can bring one of the buggers back alive, but if not do whatever needed to keep our men safe."
"Yessir," the Major replied, and using hand signals which would constitute their primary means of communication for a while, signaled the men to take up the positions they had agreed upon before leaving Alice. Then they set off, with Dawson and the Colonel following along well behind. Clyde wanted to unpack the portable satellite comm gear, but it was really a bit too early. The only thing they could report at this time was that something was here.
In addition to weapons, the team had multiple cameras, some with some very powerful telephoto lenses with the hope of getting better quality pictures than the team on the moon had managed. He'd heard that five of the team had made it back alive, although not without some help. Apparently they'd lost a second moon rover and someone had had to drive to a point out about a day to help them get the surviving members of the team back.
He and the Colonel would follow up to the point of closest approach where he and the Colonel would set up a temporary monitor point, taking what pictures they could, and be prepared to be a radio link in the event something happened to the main team. They'd have their satellite gear setup, the first thing they would do on finding their spot, and locked to the military CommSat so that the images they took and whatever they knew of the remote teams problem could be relayed back to both the Australian and American military. They already knew the important thing, that this was indeed an alien facility. He was anxious to get that word back, but realized if they didn't call in, that would be sufficient verification of that fact for his superiors.
Clyde wanted to go along with the team, but that might be pushing his artificial leg a bit too far, and the result could be to compromise the team. He was here, and would see what he could from this location. He suspected it was going to be enlightening.
Chapter 23
Washington, DC
White House
"So we finally have positive proof that they are here," the President said. He had joined the group now that the matter had come to a head, making sure his imprint was on everything that was decided. The Vice President was also a participant, but was respectfully subdued.
"That's correct," General Easystone agreed. "And, they are not beneath the ocean where they would be all but inaccessible, but located in a spot where very few humans venture. Not surprising now that we have spotted their facility. In a spot that would be readily accessible to a variety of our weapons. Weapons that we still don't know would be effective."
"What do we know now that we've found them?" President Williams asked. "Anything that will help us?"
"We've learned a number of things," Secretary Billings stated. "I'm just not certain how useful some of them are. One of the first is the fact the site here on Earth is very much smaller than the one we spotted on the moon. There must be a reason for that. It concerns me that there is such a discrepancy and suggests we are missing something. The fact it is so much smaller also explains why our people were having so much trouble locating a site here, and they are working hard given the new parameters to see what develops. It's too soon for them to have any results just yet."
"Do you believe there is more than the one site?" Hollister asked.
"I do," General Easystone stated without a moment's hesitation. The Earth is so much bigger than the moon and they are going to make do with a smaller site. It doesn't feel right."
"How many?" the President asked.
"That is a very worrisome concern," the Secretary Billings said. "We can't know, and that might mean we won't ever know if we have found them all, which could complicate any operational plans the military comes up with.
"What have we told our allies about this?" the President asked.
"The Australians know about it," General Easystone replied. "Beyond that," we have yet to release the information until we have your approval. In part we were hoping that a careful look at the fields in the vicinity of the site would reveal something we could pass on, and we were also a bit uncertain how to proceed with the meteor situation almost upon us. Some might be overly anxious to take action, and we aren't certain that would be the best approach."
"We also know the aliens are here. The pictures you have just seen confirm that a number of the creatures are present at the site. The barrier blurs the images, but we can tell they are about two-thirds our size and, like the Aborigine said have a distinct resemblance to bats. They can also fly, and they generally carry some kind of weapon on their backs, which we haven't seen in operation, but which the Aborigine claimed basically burned his brother to ash."
"What do the Australians have to say about these creatures?" the President asked.
"Their team is standing by and watching. They want to send a larger force, and very much would like to have a shot at taking them down, and perhaps capturing a few. Our man on site, Clyde Dawson, has explained our concerns about such an action, and they have reluctantly agreed to hold off, at least for now. Once again, they'd like to see the matter resolved before the meteor impacts, feeling they might be in a weakened position to deal with it afterwards."
"It's likely none of this will matter to us after the impact," Hollister pointed out.
"We also know we can't track their communications, assuming they are in touch with their fellows on the moon. There has been nothing of an electromagnetic nature being sent from the facility as long as our people have been monitoring the site."
"Why don't we bomb it?" the President asked. "Is there a real gain by waiting. It might even force these bastards to reveal themselves and help us locate any other sites."
"We might ultimately learn more if we can take the site and examine their equipment," Hollister said. "That's assuming, of course, that they are any us still around to care after tomorrow."
"Don't forget, any action here might have to be duplicated on the moon, and in fact taking out a single site on Earth might not actually end the acceleration we are experiencing. There are all manner of very concerning scenarios if the alien's entire system isn't taken down simultaneously." The President hadn't been present when some of this was discussed previously.
"We keep dodging back to this damned meteor that's coming in. There's nothing to be done about that, and as I understand it, there is no longer any question about it hitting?" the President asked.
The meteor issue was a bit of a moral problem. The government had simply lied about the incoming disaster, arguing that if it hit, hundreds of millions were going to die, and no amount of warning could change that. But if for some reason, it failed to strike as predicted, then those hundreds of thousands who would have died from panic, murders, and terrified citizens run amuck might be saved. Besides, those who they lied to had little option as to what to do about their situation. There was no time, nor any place to flee the disaster. There was no place to drive, and the planes that might take people to the far side of the world which was very marginally safer, would already be nearly full and couldn't carry more than a c
ouple of thousand more. They had probably failed the moral test of honesty, but too many had already died in recent months, and it appeared likely that few were destined to survive the next year. Of course, it hadn't mattered as evidence by the reports in the news of total panic around the globe. The Internet was a source of information as well as lies, and the word had found its way onto thousands of chat pages. That had done far too much damage, but there were millions who still didn't know what to believe, and prayed their government was being honest with them. The alternate was simply too horrible to comprehend.
"Dead center," Hollister replied grimly. "It couldn't be aimed any better. The only question we have is just how bad the impact is going to be, both in terms of short term and long term effects. The people I've spoken with believe North and South America will be wiped out in the strike, which suggests we should make sure what we have learned gets to others before that happens. Either that, or make sure the Aussies have everything, and hope they are in shape to pass it on. Realistically these people also don't hold out much hope for the rest of the world either, but expect there will be initial survivors, but by the end of a year, mankind will have died out. The damn thing is just too big."
"I'd feel better if we took some action to make it less likely these damned aliens didn't walk away with the planet, even if we are finished," the President said. "After all, from what we've been told, none of this would be happening if it weren't for them."
"It's your call," the Secretary said. "We can launch on both the site in Australia and the one on the moon. We can do that unilaterally, or bring in the Russians. I can agree there is a certain satisfaction to that approach."
"Let's talk about that a bit more," General Easystone requested, tending to be less hasty than the others.