“How long would evacuation take?” the President asked.
“It depends to a large degree on the weather, which at this time of year, is working against us, but in any case, it’d be about an hour. Minimum safe distance would be at least three miles, but ten would be better. Best of all would be getting everyone back to McMurdo.
“In bad weather they can use the Snowcats to get to minimum safe distance in as little as an hour. In good weather, a C-130 could evacuate the entire crew to McMurdo in about an hour and a half.”
Again the President took a moment to consider Winston’s information. “All right, is there anything else we should discuss about the nuclear option?”
“Actually, there is, sir,” Winston replied. “One of our people pointed out something that I must admit I hadn’t considered,” he said, not referring to Doug Lee by name.
“What’s that?”
“It’s along the lines of the booby trap possibility, but in this case an unintentional booby trap. We have no idea of course what we’ll find inside either of the pyramids, but one possibility is that there remain the remnants of either a power source or an actual weapon that would be triggered by our device. Rather like the way a fission device provides the trigger for a thermonuclear device. Only we have no way of knowing how powerful such an explosion might be.”
“You mean it could be more powerful than a hydrogen bomb?” asked the President, using the word “bomb” for the first time, rather than the “device” euphemism preferred by defense and intelligence people.
“Sir,” Winston replied, “we simply don’t know. We don’t have the technology to build a device that could destroy an entire planet, but we can imagine such a capability.”
The room was silent as the President slumped back on the seat. This was precisely the kind of thing he didn’t want to hear. It was bad enough putting a nuclear bomb out in the field in the hands of a single man, but to now learn that there was the possibility — however slim — of blowing up the planet was just too much.
“I like this idea less and less,” he said. The others remained silent as he considered the situation.
“Alright,” he said, again sitting upright, “what other options do we have, short of the nuclear one?”
Winston was ready for this. “Again, Mr. President, our major concern is biological. An alternative would be to simply seal the entire site back under the ice in the event of trouble. It’s been down there, not hurting a soul, for 65 million years. If we sealed it back up, there’s no reason it shouldn’t stay down there for another 65 million years.”
The President brighten visibly. “What would it take to do that?”
For the first time General Hammond spoke up. “We could provide shaped charges that would be placed at varying depths in the shaft down to the site that would bring 500 feet of ice down over it. It would be almost as if the shaft had never been sunk.”
“How many charges would it take?” asked the President.
“Just off the top of my head, I’d probably want to see three at each level, every 50 feet or so, so I’d guess around 30 altogether.”
Chapin spoke up, as if it was now his turn to contribute. “Of course, it’d be virtually impossible to get that number of charges in place and wired without it being obvious to the scientific team what we were doing. That’s a job for the military, not for covert operatives.”
“I agree,” said Winston, “which would mean obtaining the cooperation of the research team.”
“That I’m not worried about,” said the President. “They might not like it, but to me it sounds like a prudent precaution. And I like it a hell of a lot more than our other option.”
“Does that mean that you want us to remove the nuclear alternative, sir?” Winston asked.
“No… I think we should have all bases covered. But your suggestion gives us additional options, and makes me much more comfortable with the situation. It also gives us an excuse to get the military involved. I don’t want to turn this into a military operation by any means, but I’d feel better having someone in the direct chain of command on site.”
He turned to Hammond. “How long would it take you to get a team down there and do the job?”
“Depending on what the Navy’s got in the area, I’d guess possibly as soon as a few days.”
“Good, good.” The President rubbed his hands together. He felt much relieved.
“How are we going to break the news to the scientific team?” asked Winston.
The President smiled. “Gordon, you just leave that to me.”
•
Dan Lightfoot knocked on Hal Reynolds’ door, hoping to find him still awake. “Come,” was the reply. He opened the door and poked his head into the room.
“Can you spare me a minute?” he asked.
“Sure,” Reynolds answered, “come on in.”
“Actually, I’d like you to come down the hall to my opulent suite, if you don’t mind.”
Reynolds frowned. “OK,” he said, getting up.
He followed Lightfoot down the hallway to his room. Upon entering, he could hardly help but notice the elaborate satellite telephone set up on the small desk in the room, much larger than the hand-held units most people had. Lightfoot’s room was identical to everyone else’s, which was to say, cramped.
“I have a conference phone call for you,” Lightfoot announced.
With a quizzical look at Lightfoot, Reynolds picked up the receiver. “Hello?” he said.
“Hal, this is Royce. I have someone on the line who’d like to speak with you.”
Before Reynolds could respond he heard an instantly familiar voice.
“Dr. Reynolds, this is Carl Dellinger.”
Despite being taken aback, Reynolds managed to reply. “Good evening, Mr. President. To, uh, what do I owe this honor?”
“Dr. Reynolds, I’d first like to say that we’ve been following your work down there with great interest, and I think I can speak for the entire nation, if not the world, when I say that we’re impressed with your efforts and fascinated by your findings.”
“Thank you sir. The initial discovery was actually rather an accident.”
“I’m aware of that. May I call you Hal?”
“Of course, Mr. President.”
“Hal, I know that this project is your baby. You started it, and you’ve continued to manage it, and I think you’re doing a splendid job.”
“Thank you again sir.”
“What you’ve uncovered is potentially the biggest thing in human history, and I think it’s appropriate that the project is being handled by the leading universities not only here in the U. S., but from around the world.” Reynolds remained silent.
“Part of my job is to make sure that the United States and our allies remain secure, and that means from any kind of threat. Now we still don’t know for sure what it is you’ve uncovered down there, but among the many possibilities we have to consider is that it might somehow pose a threat to human life.”
It was something that had crossed Reynolds’ mind, but he’d dismissed it if for no other reason than the fact that the Town was so incredibly old.
“Now I know that Dan Lightfoot’s been with you since early in the project, representing the EPA.” Reynolds looked over at Lightfoot, who responded with a wry grin. “Actually,” the President continued, “you could say that Dan’s been detached to the EPA from his normal job, which is with the National Security Agency.”
Reynolds put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “You’re a spy?” Lightfoot shrugged his shoulders.
Reynolds removed his hand from the mouthpiece. “I see, Mr. President.”
“I’ve asked Dan to brief you on our concerns, and on some steps that we feel need be taken to address them. We don’t expect that anything we do will interfere in any way with your progress, and this will have no effect whatsoever on your authority over the project. Think of Dan, if you will, as your liaison with the U. S. government
.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Hal, let me reiterate how excited we are about the work that you and your team are doing down there. We’ll be following your progress very closely.”
Reynolds simply couldn’t help himself. “I’m sure you will, Mr. President.” If Dellinger caught the slight jab, he paid no apparent attention.
“Keep up the good work, Hal.”
“I will, Mr. President. Goodnight sir,” he said. There was a click on the line.
“Royce, are you still on the line?”
“I’m here, Hal.”
“I’ll give you a call back in a little while. From my phone.”
“I figured as much. I’ll wait here until I hear from you.”
Reynolds hung up the handset and turned to Lightfoot.
“When were you planning on telling me that you were a spook?”
“When my superiors instructed me to. Which turned out to be now.” He motioned to the phone. “And it doesn’t get much more superior than that.”
“So what, do you have all sorts of spy equipment, and explosives, and weapons and all that kind of stuff with you?”
“I can’t discuss the type of equipment I may or may not have with me.”
“So what are these concerns the President was talking about?”
“Have a seat,” Lightfoot replied, sitting on the desk chair. Reynolds sat down on the cot.
In the space of 15 minutes, Lightfoot sketched out an overview of the issues that were involved with national and international security. Reynolds had to admit that there were possibilities he hadn’t considered, and which made sense. When he learned that the shaft to downtown would be mined, however, he was not at all pleased.
“You mean to tell me that there are circumstances under which the shaft would be blown with the crew still downtown?”
“Hal, that would be an absolute worst-case scenario. With the protocols we’ve set up, something would have to go terribly, terribly wrong for that to be the only solution. But we simply don’t know what we’re dealing with here, and that means we don’t know what the possibilities are.”
“Cripes, this place has been dead for 65 million years!”
“Hal, we don’t know that. We just assume that.”
Reynolds rolled his eyes.
“Look,” Lightfoot continued, “let me play out just one scenario for you. We’re getting ready to open up structures created by what was obviously an advanced civilization from who knows where. If these beings were from another world, then they obviously had the technology to get here.
“Now as far as we know — and the best minds tell us it’s all but certain — physical faster-than-light travel simply isn’t possible. Which could mean either that the beings who built the Town were spacefarers, who spent most of their lives, generation after generation, living on ships in space, visiting planets like ours. Or, maybe they found another way to travel. It’s been suggested that particles called tachyons can actually travel faster than light. Now I know this’ll sound far-fetched, but what if they have a means of transporting themselves between planets? Like the transporters in science fiction films. We assume the Town is uninhabited because it’s under 500 feet of ice, but what if it’s not?”
Reynolds gave Lightfoot a sideways look, but said nothing.
“My point is that we’re up against a complete unknown, and all the rules we know simply may not apply. We have to be prepared for the worst, even while we hope for the best.”
Lightfoot fell silent, letting Reynolds absorb the information. Reynolds wasn’t happy by a long shot, but he realized that much of what Lightfoot had said was true.
“So what happens next?” he asked.
“While we’re getting the airlock set up at the Outhouse, the Navy’s sending in a team of Seabees. They’ll be here in three days, weather permitting. They’ll place the charges in the shaft, and then most of them will move out.”
“Most of them?”
“They’re leaving an officer behind. He’ll be the one with his finger, so to speak, on the button.”
“Dan, I’ve got another half dozen people coming in within the next few days, and we’re already out of room. Where am I supposed to put this guy?”
“Ah,” said Lightfoot, “that’s the best part. The Seabees are bringing in prefab shelters that can be set up along the wall of the residential end of the shed. They’re self-contained, and they’re gonna leave them behind. We’ll pick up six extra rooms.”
This was the only good news Reynolds had heard so far.
Lightfoot went over a few more details, and the two men made plans to tell the rest of the team at breakfast the next morning. Lightfoot had left out any mention of the device he’d brought with him; that definitely fell into the category of “need to know,” which Reynolds didn’t.
When they finished, Reynolds went not to his room, but to the office, where he placed a call to Royce Clayton.
“When did you find out about this?” asked Reynolds.
“I got a call just this afternoon from a guy named Chapin, who I gather is head of the NSA. He filled me in, and then told me to expect a conference call between you, me and the President. I’m just guessing, but I’d say it served to get your attention, not to mention your cooperation.”
“Well, it’s not like I really had a lot of choice.”
“How upset are you, Hal?”
“Oh, I’ll get over it. They have some valid points. I’m just a little pissed that Lightfoot’s been here all this time and I didn’t know that he was a goddamned spook!”
“Yeah, I can see how that would bother you.”
“Thing of it is, I’ve gotten to like him. He’s a straight-up kinda guy. He helps out even when it’s not part of his job — or at least what I thought was his job.”
“Well, they’ve assured me that the Navy will be in and out within two days, and that it shouldn’t interfere with your work. Hang in there, Hal.”
“Yeah. Talk to you later,” said Reynolds before hanging up.
At the briefing the next morning, Reynolds told the team that there was an announcement, and then asked Lightfoot to re-introduce himself and then explain what would be happening.
He took a certain amount of satisfaction from the fact that any animosity over the mining of the shaft — and he was certain there’d be some — would be directed at Lightfoot, and not at himself.
Overall, he was surprised at how well the team took the news. Part of this had to be attributed to the fact everybody knew Lightfoot, and while he’d been duplicitous with them, he addressed that fact squarely, apologized that he’d had to do it, and then provided a completely reasonable explanation of why the additional precautions were necessary.
But afterward, it was obvious that the mood of the entire team had changed. Previously, there had almost been a giddiness to the atmosphere, with the team members driven by a sense of adventure and discovery. Lightfoot’s announcement cast a more serious mood over the group, which Reynolds eventually decided was not only natural, but in a way, possibly a good thing.
It wasn’t that the stakes had gone up so much as that they hadn’t before realized how high the stakes had been. Now they did.
Chapter 13
The Door
The protocol meeting had gone swiftly, since most of what needed to be covered had already been discussed. The portable airlock that had accompanied Arnold Greissman from the CDC would be set up surrounding and sealing the door before any attempt would be made to open it or drill into it. If the door somehow opened, the first two people inside would be Greissman and Lightfoot, both wearing full self-contained biohazard suits. Even those not entering the airlock but within the chamber were to wear protective clothing and respirators.
If it became necessary to drill through the door, considering that they weren’t sure how thick it was, then Rank Matthews and one of his men would wear the suits as they drilled. When they broke through, Greissman and Lightfoot would take ov
er, and insert a video camera into the pyramid.
Since there was no way to achieve a negative air pressure inside the pyramid, as would normally exist in a biohazard lab, the air lock would be pressurized, and the tunnel leading to the chamber would be sealed with four feet of ice before work began. If the CDC/NSA pair found anything that appeared dangerous, and couldn’t get out without bringing it with them, Matthews’ men would be standing by to let the others out, and then fill the rest of the tunnel with ice, in which case Greissman and Lightfoot would break out a deck of cards and play gin as long as their air held out. Assuming, of course, that they were still alive.
In the event the airlock was breached, everyone in the chamber at the time would be staying.
If things really got bad, well, then, the Navy would be providing the last measure of protection.
Three days after the announcement, the Seabees had arrived, right on schedule. While they’d had to commandeer the elevator for twenty minutes at a time to place their charges, the disruption had been minimal. By the end of the second day, they were finished, and all but their leader, Commander Fred Taylor, had departed, leaving the new housing they’d set up behind, as promised.
It took four days to get the airlock assembled in place over the door. Though it had been modified to fit against a sloped surface before being shipped to Antarctica, its walls were vertical, and its opening on the pyramid side was narrower than the bottom of the door. They’d ended up having to cut a section out of the ceiling and add it to the floor, which meant re-sealing all the seams and leaving Greissman very upset — not about his nice piece of high-tech gear being mangled, but because he hated to trust jury-rigged equipment.
Then there had been the problem of sealing the airlock to the pyramid wall. Nothing seemed to want to stick to it, and the fact that the surface was at near zero degrees Fahrenheit didn’t help matters. Matthews had finally come up with a mixture of dirt and low-temperature grease that satisfied Greissman.
Five days after they’d found the lock, everything was in place for an attempt at opening the door. LCD light banks, which create excellent illumination but very little heat, bathed the area surrounding the door. Two high-definition video cameras were set up to record what was happening and relay it to the surface.
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