"Captain Mike Samuel,” he said introducing himself into the small blue screen.
"Go ahead Captain," the President said quietly. He could still feel the eyes of everyone in the room boring their way through the bones of his back.
"The first is that the emergency evacuation plans weren’t as successful as first believed,” Samuel said quickly. "There are people everywhere. Upper brass defense military. Science staff. Administrative crew. They’re all here. It doesn’t look like hardly anyone got out."
“We can’t believe that’s entirely true,” the President said more to himself than to the holovid screen.
A low whine and a blinking light from one of the command consoles made Samuel step back from the transmitter. He turned around and walked away leaving the image of Tuttle's face alone across the holovid monitors of the Administration Dome command room.
"The ship is up,” Tuttle said after glancing briefly over his shoulder towards where Samuel stood just out of range of the transmitter. We’ve been able to confirm a signal was sent from this facility. Systems have been initiated and brought online. But it wasn’t done from the central command room.”
"Someone activated the initiation procedure?" Baldwin asked incredulously. Lines furrowed from the top of his eyes and spread across his sweaty forehead.
"No, not the actual sequence," Tuttle answered him. "That can only be done from central command. This was done manually. No real procedure. Just brought up. We’ve been able to trace the transmission to equipment deep beneath the dome. But due to the severity of structural damage, we might not be able to get down there to confirm. However, we have been able piece together enough of the command room log to surmise that it had been decided by a vote of appropriate personnel that the main start-up procedure not be used.”
“Then why…?” the President began.
“According to the last entry logged minutes before they began devoting full resources to repelling heavy attack…,” Tuttle continued interrupting the President. “…it had been explicitly decided and ordered that the ship be kept down."
"That is not good," Baldwin breathed out softly under his breath. "Not good at all, Mr. President. If the order was ignored and someone was able to successfully able to bypass the main start-up system, and the pilots were able to survive this kind of ad hoc rejuvenation sequence..."
"Someone could be up there right now, at the controls, with no idea whatsoever on what the hell is going on," the President finished for him.
"That is entirely possible, Mr. President," Tuttle said gravely.
"They would have to contact Earth,” Baldwin answered Tuttle while looking at the President. “That would have to be the absolute first thing they would have to do."
"Not necessarily,” Tuttle interrupted him. "In fact, probably not.
“When they were sent up, it was never intended for them to ever contact Earth. Not ever and no matter what. They might not have even ever been given that capability. If those men were brought out of hibernation without instruction or contact, the captain would have initiated the Emergency War Procedures sequence and locked the ship down. At least that was the intended protocol."
"So what you are saying..."
"What I am saying, Mr. President, is that if they are awake, and that seems to be all we can tell from what is left of the Science Dome 15 command room, then they have absolutely no idea what is going on. And really no way to find out."
"They're sitting ducks up there," the President said his mouth dry. “Is it feasible to contact them?”
“It’s a risk sending them a transmission…,” Baldwin began.
“But can we fucking signal them?!" the President snapped and turned his glare towards Baldwin next to him.
Baldwin’s face was blank and stern. He kept his gaze on the holovid monitor and didn’t look back at the President.
"I agree, it’s not advisable,” Tuttle said from the smallness of the holovid screen. “At least not from Earth.
“The J.G.U. are too close to all our transmission points. They would easily be able to detect and monitor any signal we send up from the planet. We can't risk giving them away."
"We also can't risk someone getting to them first," the President's voice started to sound strained. "Despite the devastating attack to the facility, why would the decision have been made to keep the ship offline? What would their rationale have possibly been? Technology important enough to spark global war, and it’s just been left sitting up there for someone else to claim it?"
"I would have done the same thing, Mr. President," Tuttle replied. "I wouldn’t have brought the pilots back up. With the ship left like it was, it would have been virtually undetectable. There is no record of their exact location in space. There never was. They were given computer-generated flight instructions after their launch. Being kept down, the J.G.U. would have had the entire galaxy to search.
“But if before the dome fell they had decided to initiate the main start-up procedure, that signal would have been immediately detected and traced. In an instant they would have known we had something up there, and not too far after that learned the exact coordinates of the ship."
Samuel stepped back up to the holovid transmitter from the shredded terminals he had been working on behind Tuttle. His face was gaunt and grim.
"I’ve been able to confirm full functioning of the ship, Mr. President," he reported. "We’ve also been tracking troop concentration within the facility. They’re securing it from the outside, sealing it off so that no one can break in or escape. Other than that they appear to be vacating the interior."
"This might indicate they have traced the coordinates of the Hideaway and are on their way to abduct the ship," Tuttle said. “It would explain why they have abandoned this facility so quickly. They found what they were looking for. As a result, we might even see a reduction of their invasion force and less of a push on the domes that are still standing. They may have accomplished their main objective of this war.”
"That is not likely, General," Baldwin said curtly his back pressed up stiffly against the back of his chair. The Hideaway Project was devised by a small group of men, and an even smaller group brought about its implementation. The J.G.U. have no knowledge of the Beam Cannon Hardware and certainly no knowledge of the project. Even if they discovered and traced a contact signal from us to them in space, in all likelihood they would attribute it to system damage from battle and dismiss or ignore it altogether. They wouldn’t give it a second thought.”
"Just like they had no knowledge of Plan Zero," Tuttle said coldly making Baldwin jerk back like his face had been violently slapped.
"Only a small group of men ever knew about Plan Zero," Tuttle continued to softly accuse. “Wasn’t that also the belief?”
The President raised his head and stared directly into the holovid image of the bleeding quadrant commander standing in the smoking battle-torn room.
"Yet, the J.G.U. let themselves be baited into an attack. And they're still here while our forces are almost dead. Do you still believe that they don't know anything about the Hideaway Project?
They knew it and sent probe teams in to trigger the explosions. They knew it all along. They wanted the bombs to burn out the land so they could rebuild it just as we had planned to do. Once the Beam Cannon Hardware they were coming after was finally in place.”
"General Tuttle...," Baldwin began to respond just as icily back.
"Minister of State," Tuttle interrupted him for a second time. "We’ve encountered bodies all over the facility. Tortured bodies. We believe one to be the dome commander himself. It appears they worked on him pretty good.
“The J.G.U. knew there was something worth finding here. I think they were surprised at what they initially came across and needed to know more. Much more. At this point we have to assume the J.G.U. are launching a mission at the Hideaway."
The entire control center fell silent at Tuttle’s last words through the small holovid speaker. Everyone
stopped their work and looked over at the President.
Ford physically felt the terror beginning to permeate the atmosphere of the already tense room.
"How long do you estimate they’ve had this information in their possession?" the President asked slowly.
"Sir, these people have been dead for at least forty-eight hours. There is still ground activity outside, but it appears to be moving away. Most everything here has been destroyed by fire or been taken out by the self-destruct systems that they had time to initiate. With that in mind, we can’t really tell anything except how long they’ve been dead.”
"Would forty-eight hours be enough time for them to analyze the data and launch a retrieval?"
"I would guess they could analyze the data for a simple coordinate location in under sixteen hours and launch a mission into space within a few hours after that. Judging by how fast they've been rolling across the United States, we have to expect them to exceed even our best estimates."
“So that would be a ‘yes’, then, General?” the President snapped irritably.
“Yes, I believe that they could be close, Mr. President,” Tuttle answered solemnly.
"I agree, Frank," Baldwin said finally turning to the President while at the same time avoiding the wide-eyed stare of the brown-haired woman next to him.
"Are you able to determine a trace yourself?" the President asked staring intently into the holovid.
"We will be momentarily,” Samuel spoke again next to Tuttle. “We’re accessing what's left of the network now. We should be able to calculate a rough course and estimated position in space based on its last automatic contact signal. Most of that information still seems to be intact.”
"Get what you can and finish destroying the rest," Ford responded. "Initiate any destruct sequence you can find. I don’t want anything remaining when you leave. Nothing but smoke and falling debris."
"Yes, sir, Mr. President," Samuel said turning away.
He backed away from Tuttle and leaned across the battered broken components of the equipment console behind him.
"If you are able to pinpoint any type of possible location, I don’t want anything transmitted over the open air," Ford ordered Tuttle. "Get outside the perimeter and activate your tracers. We'll send air transport to rendezvous with you there. You will personally deliver those coordinates to us. I refuse to risk anything else."
"Mr. President," Tuttle said his voice steady, slow and quiet. "With due respect, there is no time for that. And there is even less time to assemble an interception team. If you plan on sending someone up there, it has to be done right now. While it still can be done."
Ford looked over at Baldwin who had propped his head against his hands and leaned his elbows across the console. His eyes then returned to the holovid and General Tuttle’s bloody expressionless face.
"Are you suggesting you go?" the President asked quietly. “You and your team.”
"I am Mr. President," Tuttle replied just as softly. “That is what I suggest.”
"Mr. President, a mission…a mission such as this…" Baldwin began from Ford's side. "…a mission such as this, does not lend itself to a high probability of success. It is not the mission for a quadrant commander. Not in space with only a few men. We have entire units in all parts of the country we could dispatch him to lead right now."
"The Vulture Team is almost dead, sir," Tuttle said ignoring Baldwin and keeping his eyes fixed on the President. "As almost is this country. We have to do this right now. Just about everything now depends on recovering the Hideaway.”
"What is your team’s condition?" the President asked looking at Cranden who had stepped within view of the holovid transmitter.
His face, uniform and skin were covered with blood. Some his. Some not his own. His arms hung at his side, and his eyes were blank.
“Functional,” Tuttle responded evenly.
"Injuries?" the President asked stilly. "Anything requiring attention before launch?"
"Negative, sir," Tuttle reported motioning to the man at his side. "We have a medic. We'll just need fresh medical supplies and a ship to break the atmosphere. One capable of docking with another ship."
"En route," the President answered looking over at Baldwin giving him the order with his eyes. Baldwin responded by looking away and talking low into a headset transmitter.
"Mr. President?"
"Yes, General."
"Boarding. It will be hostile. We’re going to need an assault ship. Not just a transport. And a replenishment of weapons and gear.”
"We understand, General."
"Mr. President, once we're up there, there may be no way of making contact. Or even knowing who is in control of the ship."
"General Tuttle, you are fully authorized to board and takeover the ship. Do what you have to do. The only thing that is important is that we control the Hideaway. Defend yourselves at all costs and take life as necessary to gain access to the ship."
"Even the pilots?"
"Do must what be done to bring the Hideaway back to Earth."
"Understood, Mr. President," Tuttle said breaking his gaze and looking down at the floor. "We'll be activating personal tracers within the hour."
"Very good, General. I wish luck to you and your men."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
"And Tuttle," Ford addressed him one last time trying to ignore the fear and apprehension that was nearing the point of overtaking him.
Fear of what he just authorized and put into motion. Fear that it would forever change the course of history and the fate of the planet. And that he had just made everything much more horribly worse.
"Stand by," Ford said trying to push this all away. He set his jaw and stared firmly at the three men that in all likelihood would not survive to report the success or failure of the mission. Men he had just dispatched to their deaths. "We'll be sending you what you need."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
And with that the holovid blinked off. The general’s face slowly disappeared from view.
Chapter 21
“General."
Tuttle looked up from the spot he stared at across the ground.
The holovid transmission had ended several minutes ago. But his thoughts had kept him there. Holding him tightly where he stood. Thoughts of what was still out there for him to do.
"General," Cranden said again while carefully stepping through the fallen twisted bodies lying about the rubble of the command center floor.
The stench of decomposing flesh made the inside of Tuttle’s head feel like it had just been set on fire.
"Sir, we’re picking up accelerated amounts of movement again within the facility."
"Survivors?" Tuttle asked turning to face Cranden.
"Not survivors,” the medic answered him. “I don't believe there are any survivors. And I don’t believe you do either."
Cranden stepped around Samuel who was still setting the last of the destruct entries into the command panels. Stumbling once and nearly falling to the ground when his foot slipped on jagged loose pieces of concrete and rock, Cranden moved slowly and carefully across the rubble that separated him from Tuttle.
"No, I don't," Tuttle answered him. “No, I sincerely doubt there are any.”
"Sir, we’ve got troops coming this way,” Cranden said looking at Samuel and then towards the entranceway.
"How far off?"
"Not far,” Cranden said softly leaning with both arms against the doorframe and looking carefully out. “They're coming directly for us. Someone might have detected our life readings and are coming to check it out."
"What's going on outside?"
"For the most part, everything’s died down," Cranden said dropping his arms to his side and turning back around. "There's still plenty of fires burning, and they’re clearing paths through the wreckage. But everything seems to be heading away. They're definitely moving out."
"Alright, let's get the hell out of here," Tuttle said
picking up his assault rifle and digging in his pack for additional ammunition.
Behind him, sparks started to spit from the console Samuel worked across. Small bits of flame licked about his fingertips as the consoles popped and melted from within.
His weapon fully loaded, Tuttle stood and headed for the doorway. Before he could move, Samuel grabbed his arm and pulled him around.
Cranden had already left the room.
Samuel didn’t speak right away.
"Captain?" Tuttle asked looking at where Samuel held him by the arm.
"There's something else," Samuel said slowly.
Tuttle turned around to face him. Sparks and larger flames danced behind Samuel’s back as the equipment carried out its self-destruct commands.
"There's something else up there."
"What?" Tuttle asked only loudly enough to make himself heard over the crackling of the dying command consoles. "You’re reading more than the Hideaway?"
"Yes, sir," Samuel responded solemnly. "Signals have been sent from Earth. They were sent some time ago. I detected them before I initiated the self destructs. They’re not from this dome. I don’t know really where they are coming from. I do know they’re random, and they’re tracer signals. They’re being bounced all over the place in and around the moon. Someone is actively looking for it. And they’ve been looking for some time."
"The J.G.U. wouldn’t need to bounce random signals if they obtained information from this dome,” Tuttle said to him. “They would have learned its exact location here.”
"That's what I'm saying, sir," Samuel said. "Someone else is up there looking for it."
"Can you tell if they’ve established an exact location?"
"The signals have become less and less random. Focusing on an area very close to the coordinates I just retrieved here. It’s close enough. Somebody already found it."
"Not the J.G.U.? You don’t think it’s them?"
"No, I don't."
"Who then?"
"I can’t really tell for sure. There’s been a lot of damage from the overrun. I can see, however, that it came from this continent and may very well from within the domes themselves. So, what really matters is if the President was indeed aware of this situation, there would be no reason for us to go. What I’m saying here is, he must not know about it."
Overrun: Project Hideaway Page 23