Nothing remained for him here. He decided the moment had come to move on. Retire. Start living. Maybe go someplace with a creek or a pond full of trout. He missed fishing.
For more times than he cared to count, Lawrence re-read the name on the business card he had held for the last two hours: Jack Grey. Too cliché, he thought. The name had to be fake. There was nothing fake about the helicopter or the men he showed up with, though.
The business card’s edges were worn and dirty from hours of handling. He flipped it over again, hoping a contact number might magically reveal itself this time as opposed to all the other times he’d checked. Still blank. Only the man’s name had ever been on the card. Why give a card without contact information?
Not for the first time, he held the card up to the lantern to examine it for a watermark he might have missed. Nothing. And as he watched, the lantern gave one last spitting gasp and died. His heartbeat returned to fill the silence.
No need to light the candle yet; it was too valuable. He could manage in the darkness of his trailer easily enough. The sun would rise again in the morning, and he would start his journey. Pacific Northwest sounded good. They still had water and trees. He put the business card in a zippered pocket of his tattered old coat. I wonder how that boy is doing.
Strong gusting winds suddenly rocked Lawrence’s trailer. Sand and tiny pebbles pelted his windows. He extended his arms to brace himself against the walls of the narrow interior walkway.
“What was that?” he asked the darkness.
He opened his door and stepped out. Thanks to the stars, there was more light out here than there was in the trailer. Not much in the way of clouds. What caused the wind?
Footsteps crunched toward him in the gravelly soil.
His hand shifted to his sidearm. “Who’s there?”
A brilliant beam of light split open the darkness. He shielded his eyes. The light lowered and refocused to form an oval shape at his feet.
“Good evening, ranger,” said a woman’s voice.
Lawrence moved his hand to the side to see her better. Her short skirt revealed a magnificent pair of fishnet stocking-clad legs.
“Looks like you could use some company,” she said.
She stopped a few steps away and assumed a saucy posture with hands on her shapely hips. She wore the uniform of a cocktail waitress. Lawrence wrinkled his forehead in befuddlement.
“How did you get here?” he asked, hoping she planned to stay longer.
She raised one hand and twirled a finger in the air. Lights flashed on behind her. The outline of a helicopter, black as a desert beetle, sat on the road a hundred feet away.
Lawrence touched his pocket with the business card.
“That’s right,” she said, gesturing toward the helicopter. “It’s the same one. You’ve been fiddling with that card enough over the last few days that we thought you might be ready to join us.”
“How would you know about that?” Lawrence asked.
“Biometric sensors in the paper. If you weren’t interested in Jack’s offer, you would have thrown the card away. We’ve found that those who are interested hang on to the card. Literally.”
“I’m finding that hard to believe.”
“Less believable than a cocktail waitress showing up in a stealth helicopter to recruit you after an EMP attack?”
She made a very strong point. Perhaps his skepticism needed a kick in the ass.
“How’s the boy?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s fine,” she said. “Over-the-moon happy, you might say, now that he’s been reunited with his real father. But we’re here for you, Mr. Hansen. What do you say? Would you like to join us?”
“But… you don’t even know me.”
“Mr. Hansen, your life is as transparent to us as a perfect diamond—and equally as flawless. Well, except for that incident when you were nineteen. Boys will be boys,” she said with a knowing grin.
Lawrence flushed. He found it difficult to look her in the eyes now. “But, I don’t know you.”
“Momma told you not to ride with strangers?” She sashayed to him with an arm extended. “I’m Rose.”
Lawrence tentatively took her hand. She squeezed his encouragingly and smiled. He gestured back toward his trailer and made his decision. “I have other firearms and ammunition inside. I can’t leave them for some child to discover.”
“We have technology to take care of that,” she said. Without moving her eyes from his, she reached into a utility pocket in her skirt and pulled out a single strike-anywhere match.
Lawrence understood, and took it. “There won’t be a body for them to find in the rubble?”
“After tonight, there are going to be a lot of missing bodies. And much bigger issues for them to deal with.”
Light from the helicopter shined through the trailer windows, giving Lawrence enough visibility to commit his first-ever felony: arson. He justified it in his mind that it was for the greater good. With a snap of his wrist, he lit the match and tossed it onto the mattress.
Trailers were notorious for burning hot and fast. His was no exception. When the flames started licking the ceiling, he exited to rejoin Rose.
“Is there any place to fish where we’re going?” he asked.
“Sure enough. I’ll even teach you how,” she said with a wink.
CHAPTER 81
Tears once again dampened Stinker’s fur. Mykl tried to convince himself that he couldn’t have done anything to change the outcome. This had all happened over a year ago. If only he could go back in time, he might be able to make a difference. Phenomenal technology surrounded him. Faster-than-light communication. Gravity control. Matter manipulation. Prolonged life. Why not a time machine?
But Mykl knew, even if they did have one, the dangers would be too great to risk altering the life of one person. Hibernation—like with Dawn—was the only “time machine” they could safely use.
Something niggled at his mind. Like Dawn…
Like Dawn!
Mykl tugged at his hair. Jack had asked him about his earliest memories. He thought back to those now. The water in the tub: did it have a color? Yes. It had a pinkish tinge. Blood. Did any of his own blood mix with his mother’s inside the womb? If so, could she have been exposed to the alien DNA, and possibly adapted? Maybe the gunshot didn’t kill her. And if she had hung on, even for a little while… There was no better location for a person to freeze solid than the coldest place on the planet. Could she have won the race between hypothermia and exsanguination? Could she be in hibernation, like Dawn?
In the lowered gravity, Mykl reached his door in one bound, his feet never touching the floor. He had to find Jack.
CHAPTER 82
“We have not found the entrance to this cavern you speak of,” the deputy minister said, shoving Sebastian into the carrier’s command tower. “If it is not located soon, you will be thrown overboard and allowed to search for it on your own.”
“It’s there,” Sebastian said with more confidence than he possessed. “Perhaps try tightening the search area to these three islands?” He tapped a new area on the navigation table. Now that the Seychelles were visible on the horizon, he felt comfortable divulging his best estimate.
“You don’t really know, do you?” the deputy minister said.
Sebastian schooled his face.
“This is fantasy. You know nothing.” The deputy minister called to the guard.
“Wait,” Sebastian said. “Please?” He strode to the navigation plot and, via hand gestures, asked the admiral for permission to access it. The admiral acquiesced. His expression read: Sign your own death warrant.
Sebastian zoomed out to show China’s coastline from the Sea of Japan to the South China Sea. He selected the mark-up function and began drawing in different colors, scribbling lines all along the coast and out to sea. Some zigzagged, others looped back on themselves. He had run out of colors by the time he reached the bottom of the map.
Th
e admiral’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.
“What is this mess?” the deputy minister asked.
“Those are your secret submarine patrol routes as of my last day of employment. The organization kept them in the same classified folder holding the details on the artifact.”
The admiral quickly erased the mark-up and nodded to the deputy minister. All of the submarines normally patrolling these routes would now be searching the Seychelles for the cavern entrance, but Sebastian could tell by the look on the admiral’s face that the patrol routes were correct nonetheless. The admiral said something in Chinese and left the tower. Probably needed to contact his superiors.
“We will keep searching,” said the deputy minister. “What other of our secrets do you wish to share before you return to the brig?”
Sebastian quickly learned the fleeting power of information after one ran out of things to say.
CHAPTER 83
“Action message coming in, sir. Juliet Romeo priority.”
“Send it to my quarters,” the commander said. He faced his XO. “We’ll decode it there.”
His XO appeared puzzled. That was a first.
In addition to the commander’s personal safe, two redundant code safes occupied his quarters—one each for him and his XO. The letters and symbols of the action message glowed on a panel between the two safes. It looked to be an extremely short message, but one never knew for sure until it was decoded. The two men inserted their keys and, per protocol, covered their dials as they spun their safe combinations. The commander finished decoding first. Two words.
“Initiate Blackbird,” the commander read.
“I concur,” replied XO Smith.
XO Smith remained coolly composed under the piercing stare of his commander. Stressing each word, the commander asked, “What is Blackbird?” His patience with his XO was running thin.
“The details are in your personal safe, sir,” XO Smith said.
“And how do you know what’s in my safe?”
“There is a false wall in the back. Entering your combination in reverse order will release the locks and allow you to access the rest of your orders.”
“Sometimes I wonder who really is in command of this boat,” the commander muttered.
He turned to his safe, dialed the reverse combination as instructed, and pulled open the heavy gray door. The contents were just the same as he had left them. A heavy-caliber revolver sat atop his own personal and confidential documents. He reached in and pushed against the back of the safe. It swung outward, revealing an envelope sealed in a clear waterproof bag.
The safe remained open behind him as he tore through the waterproofing plastic to access the contents inside. The front of the envelope bore one word in bold block letters: BLACKBIRD.
“You already know what this says, don’t you, XO Smith?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Always a step ahead of me,” the commander said as he broke the seal on the envelope. “When is there going to be honesty and trust between us?”
He read the short message three times before he believed it. No signature claimed responsibility for the orders; only a code. The same code his orders had required him to memorize before he’d taken this assignment. His superiors had told him the code would validate and/or override any orders he may receive in the future. He held his future in his hands, and it appeared to be the end of his career.
The orders instructed him to turn over command to his XO, Mikyle Smith.
“Right now, sir,” Kyle said. Respectfully, he added, “With your permission?”
The commander turned back to his safe and paused. He slid the message back in its envelope and placed it on top of the revolver before closing the safe. I am truly a puppet now. Will my crew be able to see the strings?
“Let’s make this official, XO Smith. Come with me.” He led the way to the control room.
If this was to be his final act as commander of this ship, he would at least do it by the book. He would let no dark mark of insubordination sully his record.
He switched his communication mic to ship-wide transmission. “Attention all hands, attention all hands. As of this moment, XO Mikyle Smith is in command of this vessel. I repeat, XO Mikyle Smith is now in command of this vessel.”
He passed the mic to Smith. “She’s yours now,” he said. “I’ll be in my quarters.”
Kyle accepted the mic. “Sir, you need to stay here for this,” he said. Before the commander could retort, Kyle said into the mic, “All hands, this is XO Smith. Ready the ship for flight. Repeat. Ready the ship for flight.”
The men nearby all bent to their new task without question or hesitation. None reflected the surprise the commander knew was showing on his own face. They knew what they were doing as if they had done it a hundred times before. His XO wasn’t the only one with secrets.
“All of them?” the commander asked.
“All of them,” Kyle confirmed with a single nod.
“Then… what am I?” the commander asked, no longer sure of anything.
“You are the man who has been deemed fit to command this vessel once I train you how to fly it. Then she will truly be yours. I’m sorry for all the deception, but I assure you, all these men hold you in the highest regard.”
“Fly?”
“Yes.”
The commander scratched at the graying stubble on his scalp. The phrase When submarines fly danced in his memory. “Well, I suppose I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said.
“These orders came in ahead of schedule. I need to check in and find out why,” Kyle said.
“We’re at six hundred feet. We need to get to periscope depth,” the commander offered.
Kyle punched in the radio frequency for a rarely used test setting. He spoke into the mic. “Blackbird initiated. Awaiting orders.”
An unfamiliar voice came through the control room speakers so clearly that the person talking could have been standing right next to him. “Copy, Blackbird. Proceed to the Chinese research base at Kunlun Station in Antarctica. Maintain stealth at best possible speed. We may have found Anya. Coordinates and details are being relayed to your control station.”
So. This submarine also had topside verbal communication capability while at depth, and without the assistance of a comm buoy. Amazing.
“Who’s Anya?” the commander asked.
“The mother of my son.”
“I didn’t know you had a son.”
“I didn’t either until last week.”
“So you really were away for a family meeting?”
“That’s the absolute truth, sir.”
The sonar man swiveled from his console. “We are configured for flight mode. Course has been laid in for optimal speed to target while avoiding visual detection. Shall I take her up, sir?”
“Do it,” Kyle said. “Commander, would you please join me at the control station?”
The men took the two empty seats at the station. “I suggest you strap in tight, sir,” Kyle said, securing himself in the seat’s five-point harness. The commander followed suit. Forward velocity pressed them back into their seats as the submarine’s up-angle increased.
Kyle gestured at his console to get the commander’s attention, and as he entered keystrokes, he explained to the commander what he was doing.
The dark gray surfaces around them turned transparent, and an unimpeded 360-degree panorama materialized. Murky water rushed at their faces. The commander reflexively leaned away from the distressing view. It was one thing to be aware of crushing water enshrouding a submarine; it was quite different to actually see it. Usually, that foretold a burial at sea.
Gradually, the water changed from a dark green to a lighter blue. The commander could now detect the rippling barrier where waves met surface air. On each side, dark undulating shapes near the hull became distinctly wing-like. Where did those come from?
Without breaking speed, they crossed through the foamy surface. The commander
braced himself for a post-breach impact that never came. Instead, they continued to rise. He looked over at Kyle with a genuine smile blossoming on his face.
“She really can fly?” the commander asked.
“Best speed,” Kyle said into his headset.
They surged back into their seats again as the faceted black-winged wedge gained altitude and speed.
“How?” the commander asked, burning with curiosity.
“The missile tubes house gravity generators. This vessel has no weapons other than electronic countermeasures. If someone did happen to fire a missile or torpedo at us, it could be redirected back at the aggressor with the push of a button. The outer skin can morph into any shape or color. You could stand on it as it parked on a mountainside and not detect it. All the propulsion noises you are familiar with have been simulated. The prop is merely for show. Control screens also simulated radar and transducer signals. The vessel actually uses a far superior system which can detect objects with perfect clarity, at unlimited range, and completely undetectable. Technically, it’s a submersible plane. It’s meant to be a peace-keeping apparatus when the time comes.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon,” Kyle said. “You are the person we would like to entrust with that mission.”
Commander of a submersible plane? The XO had to be out of his mind. Still, how could he possibly refuse? “Let’s rescue this Anya first. You can tell me about the mission on the way.”
***
Kyle read the notes on his console. “This may end up being a body recovery, Commander.” He could practically feel Mykl’s hope radiating from Jack’s message. She had very little chance to survive this. He filled the commander in on as much as he could.
A stark white coastline had come into view far below. Active camouflage changed the Blackbird’s outer skin to arctic white as they descended to the snowpack.
The Prometheus Effect Page 39