by Ian Douglas
And clearly they’d been listening in on them at the beach. It hadn’t been a bug, a tiny microphone planted on him at one of the interviews. He knew that much. He hadn’t been wearing anything on the nude beach . . . and he’d been in uniform during the interviews. Or . . .
Now there was a thought. There were, he knew, ways to activate a cell phone from a remote location, and turn the device into a live mic even when it was switched off.
For that matter, a simple shotgun mic from the top of those bluffs might have been able to listen in on their conversation.
No matter how they’d done it, the blatant intrusion, the violation of his right to privacy had him boiling mad.
It also had him more paranoid than before, and terribly concerned for Gerri’s safety. If he was about to get new orders—like back to Virginia, or even another overseas deployment—then breaking things off with her might be the very best thing for both of them.
He wondered, though, if unseen voyeur spooks were going to be dogging him and all of his girlfriends from now on. His friends. His family. Or would they just arrange for a quick, simple accident, and shut him (and them) up permanently?
Damn it all!
He checked in with Mulvehill’s secretary and walked into the office. To his surprise, Mulvehill wasn’t there. Instead, it was a two-striper admiral, a rear admiral, who was waiting for him.
“Commander Hunter? Have a seat.”
“Sir! Thank you, sir.”
“I’m Rear Admiral Kelsey. I’m with . . . let’s just say I work for JSOC.”
JSOC was the Joint Special Operations Command, the multiple-service umbrella under which all of the US special ops groups served. JSOC’s command umbrella included DEVGRU, along with the 75th Rangers, Delta Force, and others.
“Yes, sir.” More important, to Hunter’s way of thinking, was the big, gaudy Budweiser pinned to the upper left of Kelsey’s blue uniform jacket.
The man was a SEAL. Or, rather, he might have been an active SEAL years ago, but been promoted up to senior management. As with the Marines, however, once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
There were no ex-SEALs.
What the hell is this about? Did I really fuck things up even loosely talking to Gerri?
Fuck.
Because, the thing was, rear admirals did not, in the normal course of duty, have anything to do with mere lieutenant commanders.
“I’m authorized to offer you a new billet—a very special billet. And a rather extraordinary deployment.”
That didn’t sound like he was in trouble. In fact, that sounded interesting. He perked up—if such a thing was possible when in the ramrod straight posture any SEAL would affect in front of top brass.
“Yes, sir. Where are you sending me?”
“I can’t tell you that, not yet. What I can say is that it will be a long deployment—probably in excess of two years. And it involves travel. A lot of travel.”
Hunter considered this. One very real possibility he’d been considering was the classic Navy response to a fuckup, which was to ship him out to someplace remote. So maybe he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “Counting penguins in Antarctica” was how such a duty change was phrased in a typical barracks bull session. And while that specific scenario didn’t seem very likely, the Navy did have a facility on the island of Adak, in the Aleutians—very remote, and very cold.
No, wait a sec. NAVFAC Adak had been closed in ’97. So what else was there?
Kelsey continued. “This assignment will be strictly on a voluntary basis. It will be dangerous, and it may involve combat, though we don’t know that for certain at this time.”
“I see, sir.” Combat was no problem. And danger was already in the job description. It was the secrecy that made Hunter a little cautious—there’d been too much of that in his life recently, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the events in North Korea were related to this new assignment. “And you can’t tell me about it unless I volunteer, is that it?”
“That’s it in a nutshell, Commander.”
“Two years?”
“At least—I can’t guarantee it won’t be longer. I should tell you this, as well: we have already approached several of your men. Two have refused the assignment. Both of them are married, so that’s completely understandable and it’s no reflection on them. The others say they will volunteer, but only if you sign on as well, as their CO.” Kelsey gave Hunter a wry near-grin. “It seems that you inspire considerable loyalty in your people, Commander.”
Hunter was thunderstruck at that. His squad was close and tight-knit, but he hadn’t realized that his men felt that strongly about it. “I . . . I’ll have to think about this, Admiral.”
“Of course, of course. Take all the time you want . . . just so long as I have an answer by 0900 hours tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!”
“If you say yes, you’ll be shipping out for training tomorrow afternoon.”
“What kind of training?”
“Again, I’m not at liberty to say, Commander. It will be extensive and it will be tough, though. Might make SEAL training seem easy in comparison.” Hunter shuddered when he heard this, and Kelsey seemed to be at least a bit sympathetic—as sympathetic as a rear admiral could be with a grunt. “That’s all you need to know.”
“I see. And if I say yes and then wash out?”
“My recommendation? Don’t.” He seemed amused by the look on Hunter’s face. “Don’t worry. I have every confidence in you.”
“Thank you, sir. Question, Admiral?”
“Shoot.”
“Does this have anything to do with the spaceship my men and I saw in North Korea?”
Hunter had expected a neutral or negative answer—something like “Spaceship? What spaceship?” But that was not Kelsey’s response.
Instead, he scowled, his expression darkening like a thunderstorm. “Don’t you ever, ever ask me something like that again, Commander! You are completely out of line!”
“So you know what we saw over there?”
“I’m not at liberty to speak about it, and neither are you. I advise you to keep your thoughts on the subject to yourself. Do not make me regret asking you for this assignment.”
But the anger inside Hunter surged up and out in a furious blast. “Sir! Someone phoned me yesterday and threatened the life of my girlfriend. That was what was out of line!” He was shouting, and it was with a bit of struggle that he caught himself and dialed it back. “I’m sorry, sir. But ever since our return from Korea, I have been the subject of rather intensive surveillance, including, evidently, in bed! If my oath isn’t enough for you—”
Kelsey was mad, but it didn’t seem like it was solely at Hunter’s outburst. “Who made the threat? Who did you talk to?”
“Damned if I know. He didn’t leave me his fucking name and number.”
Kelsey seemed to consider this for a moment, then sighed. “Commander . . . let’s play a game of hypotheticals.”
Hunter was about to reply that he didn’t play games, but stopped the words before they came out of his mouth. This was a damned good time to keep his trap shut. “I’m listening, sir.”
“I’m not saying there are, but let’s pretend for a moment that there are aliens, okay? They’ve known about humans, have been visiting us, watching us, maybe even interfering with us for a long, long time.”
“I’m with you so far, sir.”
“Now, just hypothetically, let’s say that there are more than one group of aliens out there. Like in Star Trek. You have the Federation of good guys. You’ve got Vulcans, you’ve got humans, you’ve got . . . I don’t know. Lots of other good guys. But you have others that aren’t so good.”
“Okay . . .”
“Now, just suppose for the sake of argument, that the bad guys are trying to take over Earth. It’s an invasion, but they’re being sneaky about it. You see, there aren’t many of them, a few million, maybe, but there are seven billion of us. They might have really wizard superweapons, but they’re
outnumbered at least a thousand to one.”
Hunter wasn’t ready to admit that a mere difference in numbers would stop aliens who had the technology to cross interstellar distances. “They wouldn’t need to be sneaky about it, sir. They just trot out the Death Star and obliterate the planet!”
“That’s Star Wars, Commander, not Star Trek. Your point is taken, though. With the technology they have, just about anything is possible. But let’s just assume, for the sake of argument, that they want to take over the Earth, but they want to have the planet intact. Maybe they want us as slaves. Or, hell, I don’t know. For food.”
“Sounds like your typical scenario for a 1950s sci-fi B movie, Admiral.”
Kelsey nodded. “It does, doesn’t it? Again, this is all conjecture. But back to our bad guy aliens. They want to invade, but they don’t want to kill everyone, and they don’t want to blast the entire planet into space rubble, okay? So how would they go about taking over the Earth?”
“Well, if they looked like us, I guess they could infiltrate the government. Infiltrate all the governments of the world.”
“And if they didn’t look like us?”
“I don’t know, Admiral. Too many variables. Could they disguise themselves? Or infiltrate with a few key humans they’ve brainwashed or something? Use them as Manchurian candidates and slip them in to positions of power, but have them working for the aliens?”
“Bang on the money, Commander.”
“But . . . this is all hypothetical, right?”
“Completely. I just want you to understand that not everyone in the government is on our side. There are . . . elements, let’s say, perfectly capable of what you described. Eavesdropping. Blackmail. Strong-arm tactics. Threats. Threats to kill you or your girl or other people close to you. Even actual murder. Make people disappear.”
“And might these elements be aligned with various intelligence services?”
“CIA, FBI, DIA—you name it. A lot of our alphabet soup of current government agencies might have been compromised. Hypothetically speaking, of course. It wouldn’t take much. A few key people at the top, giving the orders.”
“Of course.”
“So what do you say, Commander?”
“I still need some time to think about it, sir.”
“Okay. But I do need your answer ASAP.”
“Oh-nine-hundred tomorrow. Yes, sir.”
He left, his mind whirling.
He spent the night with Gerri.
“But where are they sending you, Mark?”
They were having dinner together at Top of the Market, a seafood and wine restaurant right on the bay with a fantastic view out over the water. Hunter’s paycheck didn’t normally stretch to include fine dining—not this fine—but he figured he owed a really special night to the girl he was about to dump.
For some reason, the food didn’t taste quite as good as he’d expected.
He’d left his cell phone at home, and made a point of asking her to do so, as well. He wasn’t going to spill any secrets, but, just in case, he didn’t want their dinner interrupted by unpleasant threats or bombast.
He didn’t think They could have bugged every damned table in every restaurant in San Diego.
“Can’t tell you, babe. Because they haven’t told me.”
They’d finished their dinner and were talking over the last of their wine—a good ’08 Merlot recommended by the waiter. Hunter had always thought you ordered white wine with fish, but apparently a red wine with their seared tuna was the exception to the rule.
“Isn’t that kind of strange?” Gerri asked. “I mean, is it usual to send people off and not tell them where they’re being sent?”
“Not really. But, well, in my line of work, it does happen. Look, you knew this could happen when you hooked up with me, right?”
“That doesn’t make this easy, Mark,” she said, irritated at his trying to turn this on her.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“And you don’t know how long you’ll be gone?”
“Uh-uh. But it might be a long time. Gerri . . .” He took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say . . . this evening is kind of a good-bye.”
“I got that. But you make it sound like good-bye forever!”
He swallowed. “It is. I’m sorry . . . but I’m not going to string you along. I don’t know when I’ll come back. I don’t know if I’ll be back.” He shrugged. “That’s just the way it is. I’m . . . sorry.”
Her lip quivered, and her eyes were luminous with tears, but she didn’t cry, not yet. She dabbed at one eye with her napkin. “I thought . . .”
“What? What did you think?”
“That we had something really special together, you and me.”
“We do.” He’d almost said “we did,” but he changed the tense from past to present at the last moment because he thought the same thing. “Gerr . . . you’ll just have to trust me. I really do care for you and—”
“I love you.”
For two months they’d been dancing around the concept of being in love like, well, like the way Gerri danced around her pole. This was the first time she’d said those words, and it hit Mark like a blow to the sternum.
“And I love you.” And he meant it, staggered by both that revelation and by what he was truly giving up by saying good-bye. “But I do not want you waiting for me.”
“Why not? You’re worth waiting for!”
He smiled. “I’m glad you think so. But, well . . . you deserve the best, the very best. Remember, my wife dumped me because I kept getting deployed overseas. I spent Christmas of ’09 sitting on top of a mountain in Afghanistan. The Christmas after that I was helping to train Kurds to kill ISIS bastards in Iraq. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that!”
“So you’re afraid I’ll treat you like your bitch of an ex?” The almost-tears were fading, replaced by anger.
“I’m afraid I won’t be around enough to treat you the way you should be treated.”
He didn’t add, “And I don’t want to be around if that means you might be killed.”
But he also didn’t tell her that he had a choice. He could tell Kelsey tomorrow that he didn’t want to go. But the outcome, he knew, would be the same so far as he and Gerri were concerned. He would be shipped off to the equivalent of Adak. There was some secret stuff going on in Uzbekistan right now, and there were SEALs over there taking part in the fun and games. And even if he just went back to Virginia, he would be gone.
He could imagine her asking to come along. She would be willing to pull up stakes and move across the country to stay with him; he could sense that in her now.
But he suspected that both of them would be looking over their shoulders all the time, half expecting a sniper’s bullet . . . or a mysterious brake failure . . . something that would take them both out of the way.
Hunter had been thinking about Kelsey’s Star Trek analogy. The bad guys, it seemed, both human and alien, played for keeps.
There was more to it than simple self-preservation, too, or protecting Gerri. Kelsey hadn’t been able to say much, but what he had said opened up some startling doors.
Hunter had seen a spaceship. His debriefing interviews, the way they’d treated him, convinced him that there was not a nice, simple, and purely terrestrial answer to the puzzle. He couldn’t prove it, but he’d seen a real spaceship, aliens were here, and they meant business.
And now, Kelsey’s talk about Star Trek politics suggested that the aliens were not friendly, did not come in peace, that they were interfering in human activities in a big way, and they were ruthless in how they were going about their business. This was no bunch of interstellar tourists stopping by to point and look at the funny humans. They meant to take over.
An invasion . . .
“Well . . . I don’t care what you say,” she told him. “When you come back Stateside, you look me up, okay? We can pick up where we left off.”
He bit back his fi
rst answer, then gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. But when I look you up, I’ll expect to find you with a husband and six kids, okay?”
“Stripping and cocktailing with six kids? That’ll be the day!”
“Not a stripper, remember? An ecdysiast.”
“Bastard. When do you ship out?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Damn! So soon? Who the hell did you fuck over to catch this shit?”
“Only you, I think.”
And then she cried.
Chapter Four
We should think of the craft in the New Mexico desert as more of a time machine than a spacecraft.
Dr. Hermann J. Oberth [attributed], 1974
9 December 1965
Smoke filled the tiny cabin as the vibration increased. Die Glocke was reentering Earth’s atmosphere at high velocity, falling with the swollen, bottom end of The Bell facing in the direction of travel, which meant that General Kammler was being pressed back in his narrow seat by what felt like the weight of several people lying on top of him.
Ssarsk lay strapped into its rack just above him. “What’s happening?” Kammler yelled, trying to be heard above the thunder filling the cabin. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing wrong. The words formed silently in his head. Slowing to atmospheric velocity.
Kammler wished that there was a window in The Bell so that he could see out. Flying blind like this, locked into a claustrophobic tin can—it was a nightmare.
They’d left der Riese, the secret complex in the Silesian woods, only moments before. At first, there’d been no sensation of movement at all, no sense of acceleration, no noise or vibration. The Bell, though, Ssarsk had told him, was already above the atmosphere and preparing to land.
Then they’d plunged into the atmosphere, and into a nightmare of heat and smoke, of raw noise and unendurable vibration. Would they break up? Burn up? He didn’t know. He couldn’t trust the alien pilot to tell him what was actually going on. The Eidechse were emotionally remote and inscrutable. The name was German for “lizards,” and they did possess a cold, reptilian aspect that Kammler found disturbing.