by John Ringo
"Yes, sir," Berg replied to the platoon leader.
"Move into the base and look for evidence of Dreen presence or any survivors."
"Roger, sir," Berg said. "Okay, boys, now's when it gets interesting. I've got point. Follow me."
"Gladly," Himes said. "Very dangerous. You go first."
The opening was low due to the rubble and Berg had to hunch the suit through, keeping his weapon up and forward at the same time. The walls, once past the outer edge, were smooth and delicately patterned. They shone a faint blue in the glow from his suit lights.
The passageway went straight down at a slight slope then turned sharply to the left. There was rubble on the floor, some of it shoved to the side but more fallen recently. Most of it was probably from the shocks from the nuke. The floor was too solid for tracks and it wasn't possible to determine if any of the rubble had been moved. At least not to Berg.
Turning the corner they could see an open area ahead. As they approached, it was apparent there had been another seal there. But it, too, was ripped down.
"We got anybody?" Berg asked.
"Top, Two-Gun," the first sergeant replied. "I'm setting up a relay system. And monitoring your video."
As they entered the center of the base it was apparent that the Dreen had been there ahead of them. A dog-demon—a pony-sized beast that was low-slung with a chopping jaw head—was lying dead at one side of the room. Some folding tables had apparently been set up as a barricade across the door. They were ripped apart and tossed about the interior.
There were several patches of dried blood but not one body, not one piece of electronics was left. Packs had been ripped apart, the contents strewn about the room. Cots were overturned, sleeping bags ripped open and a blister bag of water had been breached, the water pooling at the rear of the room.
"This had to really suck," Himes said. "But somebody had a weapon, apparently."
"Looks like a lucky shot from a pistol," Smith said, examining the body of the dog-demon. "Couple of scratches on the chest armor but whoever it was got a shot into that soft patch under the neck."
Berg looked around and shrugged inside his armor.
"No exits," he said, swiveling his turret back and forth. "So anybody in this room was doomed."
"Got a map," Himes said, pulling a large sheet of paper out from under a table. "Looks like the map they were making of the ruins."
"Got some lab books over here," Smith said. "Can't exactly open them in this suit."
"Top, we've got some intel down here," Berg said.
"On my way down," the first sergeant replied. "Hold your position."
"This looks interesting," Smith said, straightening up with a book held in his suit claws. "Somebody drew all over the cover with red ink. It says 'Dreen!' "
The first sergeant delicately set the lab book on one of the rerighted tables and hooked open the front. He read it for a moment, then nodded, his machine gun tracking up and down.
"Supplementary log of HD 36951 Gamma Station forward base, Dr. Christian Moshier, Ph.D. Just in case anybody ever reads it," he said softly.
1140: The main base was struck by what we think was a kinetic energy weapon. Several personnel were away from this base when the main base was attacked. Their condition is unknown at this time. Drs. Darren Hokanson and Matthew Sterret were working in the ruins. Dr. Charles Talbot was on the way back to the main base. Doctoral Candidate Deb Cutler was exploring a previously unmapped section. The other five of us are fine at this time.
1154: Dr. Kaye Roberts has volunteered to go to the surface. She is aware that in the event of an attack, the protocol is to destabilize the gate with a nuclear weapon. She feels that she can observe from a position just outside the tunnel in the event there is a rescue party. The rest of us have elected to remain, rather than try to beat the response. I was given a classified briefing that indicates that even with the gate destabilized there is an "alternate method" of response. I don't know what that is but rather than risk getting hit by our own nuke we're going to wait.
1214: Dr. Roberts has reported an unknown ship overhead. Video of the ship and its actions are on the main archaeology computer. The ship lowered under apparent antigravity power, fired downward using something like a laser and dropped down a probe. The probe might have returned to the ship with a body. Dr. Talbot was on his way to the base when the rock was dropped. It is possible that this unknown alien species captured him.
1217: The ship has left.
1321: Another shock indicated that the nuke has gone off and shortly afterwards we experienced enormous overpressure that severely damaged the airlocks. If we had any idea it was going to take that long we would have run for it. We have no reports from Dr. Roberts.
1333: Dr. Roberts has returned. Her radio was destroyed by EMP but she was not harmed. The inner airlock is repaired and Dr. Roberts has volunteered to lead a team to repair the outer airlock. Dr. Wilson has completed an inventory of supplies. We can hold out for forty days, more or less. The big question is the air processor. If it breaks down, we're in trouble. But as long as there are no more attacks, we should be fine.
1423: Dr. Darcy Retherford has taken the watch at the front. Both airlocks are repaired. There was minimal atmosphere loss. Others have ventured up to the surface. The gate is visible as is the large crater around it. The radiation can be detected from the ridgeline. They really nuked the heck out of it.
1649: Another ship has been detected. It is much larger than the first. Video, again, is on the main archaeology computer. Everyone is inside except Dr. Retherford. We've set up an optical fiber system for communication to keep from broadcasting.
1652: Ship has landed in the valley. Small pods, similar to the one seen earlier, have lifted off from it.
1655: Dr. Retherford has retreated from the entrance when some of the pods approached. We've set up a truly inadequate defense. Dr. Roberts brought a pistol with her, something none of the rest of us knew until just now. We're piling tables in the entrance.
1657: A camera Dr. Retherford left in the entrance has shown us the nature of our visitors. It appears that we're about to be Dreen food. Last words all seem inadequate. Tell our families that we were thinking of them at the end. Dr. Roberts wishes to add to any military personnel who might someday read this her personal request that they 'Get some.' "
"Well, that truly sucked," Himes said, his gun tracking back and forth as he shook his head. "I think we're about thirty-three days late."
"I think I'd liked to have met Dr. Roberts," Berg said. "A pistol-packing female archaeologist. Who'd a thunk it?"
"They got hit before we even got the word," the first sergeant said. "But there's a bunch of holes. I can see the air reprocessor being gone. It's pretty apparent the Dreen picked up everything technical. But what do you get when you've got an air reprocessor, Two-Gun?"
"Think the Dreen took the air tanks?" Berg asked. "You don't pump it straight into the room, you pump it into tanks as back-up. There should be a couple of honking big air tanks in this room."
"Maybe," Top mused. "Who can figure out how the Dreen think? Why'd they destroy the base then take half the day to come back and check things out? But look at the food supplies."
Berg rotated his sensor bulb and looked at the food supplies. There was a pile of rations against one wall. They'd been knocked around and some of the cases had been busted open, down to some ripped packages of rations. But most of the cases were still stacked.
"The Dreen didn't want to eat our food?" Himes asked.
"Use your eyes," the first sergeant snapped.
"Damn, Top," Berg said, wonderingly. "I didn't see it. Sorry."
"What?" Smith asked.
Berg walked over to the scattered yellow packets and pointed down. Several of them had been arranged into a cross formation. It was subtle, but very evident now that he'd noticed it.
"There's a survivor."
"Tchar, I need a blage."
The Adari engineer's quarters were
the largest on the ship but barely adequate. Especially given the . . . stuff that filled the interior.
The Adar had been a technologically and philosophically advanced race when they encountered humans. By that time, they had managed to end intertribal differences and merge into a unified planetary government. Admittedly, it had taken some major wars to do so, but they'd done it and thereafter given up the long-drawn strife. Artistic, technically competent and religious, encountering humans had been an almost shattering event. Because with all their religion, science and philosophy, they'd never invented marketing.
The Adar were almost incapable of not buying anything that was advertised aggressively enough. In Tchar's case he was a sucker for anything that was sold late at night, often on infomercials, for $29.95 plus shipping AND you get for FREE this solid gold-simulacrum . . .
And he carried it all with him wherever he went. In the case of the ship, packed literally to the overhead in his room. There was barely room for his bunk. Admittedly, his bunk was massive.
"Good God," Weaver moaned. "Have you added stuff?"
"Why, yes," the Adar said enthusiastically. Nearly twelve feet tall, with a flat, ducklike head, three eyes and back-curved legs, the alien was dressed in brilliant purple spandex shorts and a safari jacket. "I got a real bargain on a food processor! It slices—"
"Dices and makes julienne fries," Weaver said as he entered. "My God, they didn't bring back that finger-shredding monstrosity, did they? Never mind. I need a particle emitter. Not EM communications spectrum. It has to be able to penetrate through an LGB and then several meters of steel reinforced concrete and be detected by sensors on the other side of all that. It has to be man portable. It has to be capable of being turned on and off rapidly. And I need it in twenty minutes."
"Oh, ask me for something hard some time," Tchar said, whistling happily. "Coming right up! I'll just take the iridium-192 isotope gamma ray weld joint tester and attach that to my magnetically spun industrial lazy Susan—I got two for one on those. Always a two for one value at Triple A Plus Industrial Warehouse Online!"
"Uh huh." Weaver wasn't certain, but he thought the Adar had smiled like an infomercial actor might have.
"The iridium source is about the size of what you would call a mini-keg of beer. Which reminds me, you must try my Mr. Beer soon and tell me if it works as advertised."
"When we get back to Earth." Weaver liked beer. Not enough, however, to make it on-board.
"Control . . . control . . . the lazy Susan motor through the RS-232 port on the side via some of this phone cable—five hundred meters from Radio Shack . . ."
"Hey, can you put a wireless switch that'll give me a couple kilometers range in noisy rad environment?"
"Perhaps . . . how about more wire? I have more rolls, at least two kilometers of wire that will work for this."
"Wire is good, just heavy. I'll have help carrying it."
"Wire then. So, let me see. You control the gammas incident on the LGB by turning the lazy Susan on and off. I'll put one springloaded push button on it that will rotate the table ninety degrees when held down." Tchar pulled out a push-button kit from somewhere in his quarters. The kit was in a small light blue modular toolbox with a ToolWorld.com logo on the front. Never more out of place did it look than in the hands of the alien Adar wearing spandex shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
"There must be a button in here that will . . ."
"I'll come back in ten minutes." Weaver said.
» » »
"So this is a . . . what?" Miller asked as they approached the gate.
The radiation counters were going off the scale; they weren't going to be able to spend much time in place.
"It generates gamma rays," Weaver replied, setting the box down and pointing the emitter at the gate. They had to set it up on the edge of the crater; the Looking Glass was hanging forty feet in the air. "There are detectors for that as part of the defense system on the other side. When we start beaming through the concrete and steel on the other side, the detectors are going to go nuts. I hope. Hey, this thing is bad news on the front end so don't get in front of it when we take the cover lid off. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Anyway, they detect the gammas on the other side. These are a different energy level than the background gammas here. So they should be able to see them. We point the gammas ninety degrees away from the LGB and then just push that button at the end of the wire to point the gamma rays at it. You let off the button and it points back away from the gate. Voila! it goes on and off and they should see this on the other side."
"And then they drop another nuke through the door," Miller pointed out.
"That is why this thing is set up on a looong wire," Bill replied, peering down the tube. "But if they're paying any attention at all, they'll notice that there's a signal coming through. You think that's pointed at the gate?" He depressed the button a time or two. It worked—gotta hand it to Tchar.
"I think there's enough radiation going through the gate that it won't be noticeable," Weaver said. "I'm up to over a thousand millirads. These suits are going to be hotter than fire when we get back."
"Too bad we don't have any neenions," Bill said, standing up. "Let's open the lid on this thing and get the grapp out of here."
"You ready?"
"Yes, sir," the commo tech said, swallowing nervously. He felt good reason to be nervous. The Dreen were in the neighborhood and while everyone else was in armor just bristling with guns, all he had was as stupid space suit. "How long do we have to be down here?"
"Until we get a response," Bill replied. "Start sending."
» » »
It was one of the more boring vital jobs on the planet. Seven gates had opened that were from planets that had current or former Dreen presence. Once it became possible to move gates, all seven had been relocated to a fortress deep under the Antarctic rock. The area was tectonically stable, as far away from anything vital as you could get on Earth. Each of the gates was plugged with a special door made of heavier armor than the one securing Cheyenne Mountain. However, the door could be opened, quickly, and opposite each door was an air cannon loaded with a nuke. In the event of Dreen presence being detected on the far side, the nuke could be fired and the door closed again. When a heavy duty nuke went off on the far side of the gate, it closed fast enough that the only thing that made it through was a blast of radiation.
Even if the Dreen were able to get through those defenses they'd be, well, in Antarctica. There wasn't anything for them to eat and it was a long way to anywhere they wanted to be.
Just in case things got very bad, the facility also had a massive nuclear weapon embedded under it. The facility was deep enough that when the nuke went off, the blast would just collapse the thousand feet of rock overhead. If the Dreen got through the defense they were going to find the other side was quite a nasty place.
But somebody had to keep an eye on things. So twenty miles away was another facility. It had a large staff of Army infantry that rotated in and out, doing winter training along the way, and a smaller staff of permanent residents that kept an eye on the gates.
Keeping an eye on the gates was simple on one level and much more difficult on another. Each gate was shown on a video monitor with another screen that gave particle readings. All of those screens showed higher than normal particle levels. Gates generated a stream of muons and quarks naturally. But all of the gates had had one or more nukes fired through it. That, too, generated a lot of particles.
Computer programs monitored levels and determined if they were within normal range. However, radiation slowly decreased over time. From time to time the amount of particles from a particular gate would drop far enough to trigger the automated detectors.
At which point a human had to be involved. And it was a very boring job. Most of the time the technicians just sat for twelve hours staring at nothing. From time to time an alarm went off and they had to analyze the situation and decide if it
was an emergency or just normal fluctuation. Thus they had to be familiar with particles and radiation.
Fortunately, the U.S. government produced a large number of such people every year. They were called "nukes," the guys who handled the atomic teakettles for nuclear submarines and the few remaining nuclear aircraft carriers. Not only were they trained in some fairly advanced particle physics, they were used to sitting for hours looking at nothing.
It was still a God damned boring job.
So when the alarm went off on Gate Eight, the tech was happy to have a change. Since radiation fell off fastest in the immediate period after a nuke went off, he initially assumed that the rad level had just fallen out of spec. But when he examined the readout, it was apparent that the alarm was anything but a false alarm. All sorts of radioactive decay products were coming through the gate as background noise that looked like the remains of a big nuke. But it was suddenly bursting gamma radiation. Gamma was produced in an initial nuke blast and there was a tiny amount of residual. But not like this.
Without thinking about it, he hit the base alarm button. Seconds could count if the Dreen were preparing to breach the gate.
As he waited for his supervisor to respond he examined the readings. After a moment, he frowned and leaned forward.
"What?" his boss asked, running in while still tucking in his blouse.
"Big stream of gammas coming out of Gate Eight," the tech said, still leaning forward. "We nuked it and all that. But something's funky."
"Define funky," the supervisor asked, leaning over the tech's shoulder. A former nuclear officer, he could read the screens as well as his tech if not better. "Why's the gamma spectrum have a sharp peak at six-twelve keV?"
"That's what I mean by funky, sir," the tech replied. "It's a discontinuous stream too. The peak keeps coming and going."
"You realize what the definition of a discontinuous stream of particles is, right?"
"Yes, sir. A signal."
» » »
"So far, so good," Miller said. He had an extendable camera poked over the lip of the depression they'd hunkered down in. "No nuke. I'm glad the gate stabilized before we got here."