Crux

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Crux Page 18

by James Byron Huggins


  “And then?”

  “Stick to the plan.”

  “That’s right,” said Roy sternly. “Stick to the plan.”

  Janet nodded slowly, “So I just stay in my seat and keep the computer offline until the final ten minutes. But, before that, Susan makes a run for it.” She pointed to a large crate in the sharply swaying van. “May I ask what that is?”

  Roy said, “That, Ms. Computer Genius, is an experimental one-hundred-megaton, triple-stage hydrogen fission weapon that we’re going to send through the portal if we can’t blow the helium and nitrogen tanks and destroy the collider.” He shrugged, “I doubt that it’s enough to vaporize whatever dimension is on the other side but it might kill a handful and make them think twice about coming through again.”

  “Did you say one hundred megatons?” asked Janet.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s several hundred thousand times Hiroshima.”

  “Approximately, yeah.”

  Janet scowled, “That doesn’t track. A one-hundred-megaton, triple-stage fission weapon would weigh at least ten tons. I don’t see how a van could carry it.”

  “Not this one,” Roy shook his head. “This one is loaded with some kind of new nuclear fuel they’ve never used.” He stared at the bomb. “I hear the formula’s been on the books for fifty years but they were too scared to make it. ’Bout like they were scared to develop the first atomic bomb. But when they perfected a process, they did it.”

  “Is it radioactive?”

  “Not inside the case.”

  “What kind of nuclear fuel we talking?”

  Roy shrugged, “I got briefed on what little I’m cleared to know, but I hardly understood a word. All I got is that it’s a very highly irradiated mix of plutonium and uranium and a new, very volatile compound that’s only been a theory until now. They practically created a new element for it.”

  Tanto chimed in, “And it ain’t light, neither. The son of a bitch weighs five hundred pounds.”

  “But you’re not going to use it unless you have to?”

  “Right.”

  “Well,” Janet hesitated, “why would you have to?”

  “Because we don’t know what kind of new maintenance they’ve done to this collider,” stated Roy. “If the satchels aren’t enough to blow the helium and nitrogen tanks and bury this thing, then we use the bomb.”

  “And destroy a very large portion of this dimension and that dimension at the same time, right?” Janet stared. “And we all die?”

  “Consider it a last resort.”

  Janet leaned forward. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

  “You just cut the alarms to that escape hatch and I promise that I’ll get you and Susan out of there before anything happens.” Roy glanced to Tanto. “We hot?”

  Tanto nodded, “We’re hot.”

  “But if you don’t use the bomb, what do we do with it if we succeed?” asked Janet. “I mean, this is seriously classified technology. We can’t leave it behind. And we’re not going to take it with us, are we? We’ll be running for our lives. And we can’t run real fast hauling a five-hundred-pound bomb.”

  Roy stated clinically. “If I don’t type in the code, it won’t go nuclear. But after we blow the gateway, I’ll set the bomb on self-destruct and we’ll have plenty of time to get clear of the blast.”

  “What about radiation?”

  “The self-destruct mechanism is just a charge of C-4 and the corridor will contain the detonation and radiation so that we don’t kill every heathen in Switzerland. But the first thing I’m gonna do is get you out of that Observation Room. Understand?”

  She smiled faintly. “Don’t be late.”

  Roy frowned.

  “Not on your life.”

  ***

  The agonizingly long walk “down the plank,” as Amanda regarded it, seemed awfully cold and strangely quiet and it occurred to her how much slower everything seemed to happen when you didn’t actually like what was indeed happening.

  The thought irritated Amanda because she sensed she should be making peace with God or thinking of something far more profound. But here she was, in her final minutes, thinking of how she should have had more fun.

  Finally a door clanged shut behind them and the bag was ripped off Amanda’s head. Then the gag was removed and she gasped for a moment before watching them remove the bag and gag from Isaiah.

  Director-General Francois stood watching impassively. “I see no reason to keep you blind and mute,” he smiled. “But, unfortunately, I cannot remove your restraints. The ATLAS is a finely calibrated machine and we cannot allow tampering.”

  Amanda tried her cuffs. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Is this what you did to my sister?” she grated.

  “No,” Francois said plainly. “Your sister was securely housed in the Observation Room like the others when the incident occurred. You alone will have the experience of witnessing this phenomenon face to face. I almost envy you.”

  “You’re welcome to take my place,” Amanda muttered with unconcealed spite. “I’d love to see you meet your god.”

  With a humorless laugh Francois motioned to the guards, who retreated to either side of the door. “Feel free to express yourself if you must, Ms. Deker,” He glanced at the Observation Room’s window so far above their heads.

  “In here,” he added, “no one can hear you scream.”

  With that, Francois turned and walked out the door.

  The guards followed.

  As the panel was locked, Amanda yelled, “Isaiah! I’m sorry I got you into this! This is all my fault! I’m sorry I yelled at you! I’m sorry for everything! I’m sorry!”

  Wordless, Isaiah was twisting ferociously against the handcuffs, contorting his body with quick, violent movements. His teeth were clenched. His eyes were shut tight.

  “Isaiah!” Amanda pleaded. “Just accept it! We should die with dignity if this is how we’re gonna die! Stop struggling! Look! Isaiah! If this is it, I just want to tell you that I know I was falling in love with—”

  “Got it!” Isaiah shouted as he ripped one hand free of a cuff; he merely seemed to touch the other cuff and both hands were clear. He undid the chain at his waist and the cuffs around his ankles and walked to Amanda, sweating profusely.

  “What the hell!” Amanda gaped. “You let me say all that and you could have got us free any time you wanted?” She started angrily squirming and twisting against the cuffs as Isaiah freed her. “You’re a bastard! You know that? I can’t believe I was about to tell you that I was—”

  Isaiah hurled her chains aside.

  “How did you do that!” Amanda managed.

  “I keep handcuff keys hidden in my sleeve. Come on!”

  Amanda was hauled from her feet, fairly flying, and then they were at the steel door. Isaiah violently twisted the circular handle but it didn’t budge. Then he twisted, if it were possible, with even more force but it was obviously locked. For a moment Isaiah spun his head gazing up and down the collider. It was an awesomely gray, silent space humming with a force that made Amanda’s hair stand up.

  “Now what?” she whispered.

  Isaiah frowned, “I don’t know. If we can’t get out of here, we’re gonna have to stop this machine.”

  “How are we gonna do that?”

  Isaiah grimaced as he fiercely searched the scope of the ATLAS. It was at least four stories high with cement and lead and steel combinations of construction protecting it from within and without. Whatever held it together was as carefully sealed as any secret ever buried by science or sorcery. Indeed, it seemed like a living, enormous thing, this steel, scaled serpent that vanished in both directions.

  “What are you staring at?” Amanda whispered although she couldn’t understand why and didn’t try. “Do you see something?”
/>   Isaiah pointed angrily at a gigantic white tubular connector that could encapsulate a freight train. “The ATLAS,” he said breathlessly. “That’s where the particles collide. That’s what we’ve got to disable.”

  “But how!” Amanda spun in the same manner. “We don’t know how this thing works! Even they don’t know how it works!”

  Isaiah said in a quiet, deadly voice, “It works the same way anything else works. Like dominoes. One domino at a time. All you have to do is take out a few and you’ll crash the whole system.”

  He quickly climbed the steps leading to a small platform located beneath the ATLAS. He rushed to the white cylinder and began pushing and pulling on every handle within view, but nothing happened. No doors opened. No circuitry was exposed. The machine was locked as tightly as a vault.

  Suddenly the entire collider roared to life and the cement beneath Amanda’s feet began trembling. It was like the foreboding of an earthquake. Timidly, Amanda placed a hand against the wall to feel it trembling, as well, and heard someone say fearfully, “Isaiah? We need to get out of here …”

  Frantically twisting a handle, Isaiah didn’t answer.

  Slowly Amanda turned her head to see lights in the far distance of the pipeline as they abruptly begin blinking with the strange, alarming magenta coloring. Then a siren erupted as an inhuman roar thundered in the tunnel.

  Amanda whispered …

  “Oh, God, no …”

  ***

  So far, their entry into the main corridor had been routine.

  Janet and Susan had been exposed to three rather invasive searches, X-ray machines, metal detectors, and an array of cameras that registered every physical tic, including sweating, before being led, as before, to the Observation Room.

  Janet glanced up from her computer terminal to see the rotating lights meant to warn maintenance personnel of the impending test scheduled for this morning and, according to new protocols, she was not authorized to leave her station unless granted permission by the supervisor. And today the supervisor was Director-General Francois himself and he was not moving although the Assistant Director William Blanchard, was shifting nervously as he stared at the ATLAS.

  “Steady, people,” Francois said with pacific calm. “This is what we’ve trained you to do.” He glanced to the side. “What is the power level?”

  Janet had already been introduced to Margaret.

  “It’s at sixty percent,” answered Margaret, fingers cautiously poised over the keyboard. “And climbing.”

  “Very well,” Francois nodded. “Do not be anxious, my friends. Remember your new protocols. We use the alarms to warn maintenance personnel to get clear of the corridor, so just man your stations. We are all professionals here.”

  Susan was at her terminal, face down, fingers flying.

  Janet knew that her colleague was working feverishly to finish stringing together a pattern of foreign and domestic satellites, each with encrypted passwords, which she had been secretly collecting for the past two days. When Susan’s string was complete, she would forward the connection to Janet and Janet would put the internal security system off-line. At that moment Susan would have exactly twenty minutes to escape, but Janet knew, despite her promise to Roy, that she wouldn’t be able to leave her terminal at all without some kind of violence. She would have to stay at her station and continue putting the computer offline or the guards would locate the Delta commandos.

  She had already told Susan what was going to happen and, after the anticipated argument, Susan finally agreed to simply rise and walk out of the room for any reason that required a bathroom, something that even the supervisor could not prevent. Then Janet’s terminal began blinking and she opened a new window. Janet read the satellite connection, locked it down, and began calling up relays.

  A hideous scream echoed in the tunnel outside the door even as Susan rose from her seat and stopped in place.

  Guards posted near the door rushed to the entrance, glaring in the direction of the cries. They bent as if peering into a pipeline then straightened with violent shouts and raised rifles, firing simultaneously.

  At the burst of gunfire, Francois whirled.

  “What are you doing!” he demanded as he launched himself to the door. He passed Susan without heed and she looked at Janet as if asking for direction; the entire plan had gone to hell. That fast.

  On Janet’s screen the security code began blinking.

  Inviting.

  Daring …

  More screams in the corridor.

  “If I die,” Janet whispered, “you die.”

  She shut it down.

  ***

  “It’s down,” whispered Tanto.

  Tanto was first to the door of the escape tunnel and placed a charge against the outside lock; the explosion was loud enough to carry for miles in these alpine hills, but it would also be hard to locate because sound carries further in the cold and no one would be able to determine how many miles away it originated.

  He and Roy were in the tunnel together and running forward as the air around them thickened with the sound of an enormous, unearthly roar followed by a series of clearly human howls of horror and agony. But they didn’t—couldn’t hesitate now that they had begun and reached the collider inside two minutes as Jake, Picket, and General Jackman came up hauling the weapon.

  Although Jake and Picket were naturally quiet and stoic, they were without question the physically strongest members of any Delta squad. Each man was built thick and low, like a bison, with over-muscular chests and arms and stout legs like professional weightlifters. In truth, they were almost as herculean as the general, which was impressive in itself. Together they had little trouble, with Jackman’s seemingly ageless might, hauling the weapon through the tunnel almost as quickly as Roy negotiated it without any burden at all.

  Tanto spun to Roy. “Go get the girls, major. I got this.”

  He hurled a duffel bag to Roy, who caught it and threw it to General Jackman. “Change of plans, general. The charges are set for forty-five minutes. Let’s do it.”

  Jackman caught the duffel full of charges and, to Jackman’s credit, he didn’t react with any emotion whatsoever. Unlike movies, elite commandos do not raise their voice in the heat of combat. If they cannot talk to a fellow soldier in a normal voice, they use hand signals. Shouting in combat was considered bad form and earned serious disrespect. All screaming did was heighten fear and confusion and there was always too much of both.

  Jackman said in a normal tone, “What happened to thirty minutes?”

  “It’s a change of plans to protect the girls, general,” said Tanto. “Let’s get her done, sir. I think we best move smooth.”

  “Smooth is fast,” muttered Jackman.

  He loped to one of the ubiquitous all-terrain vehicles, leaped into the seat with the duffel, and raced past Roy as the Delta commando crouched beside a steel door.

  Somewhere there was the sound of an enormous fight involving gunfire and the enraged roar of some great beast as Roy twisted away and to the side, flattening himself against the wall. One second later an explosion disintegrated the door and Roy’s rage smashed the remnant out of his way.

  He was inside.

  ***

  Francois had frozen in the door obviously shocked and staring in the same direction as the guards as they continued firing and the howl of some enormous beast continued to advance on the Observation Room. Then Janet heard the Director-General vehemently shout, “Damn it! Not now!”

  Spinning, Francois was back and bearing down over Margaret. “How much longer before we hit one hundred percent?”

  Margaret snapped, “Two minutes!”

  “Two minutes!” Francois whirled, alternately glaring between the door and the window. Then, with a violent effort, managed to calm his voice as he stated, “Get ready to engage FS-One. Are you r
eady?”

  “Yes.”

  “Engage.”

  “Engaged.”

  “FS-Two.”

  Margaret glanced in the direction of the hideous screams.

  “Engaged!”

  “FS-Three!”

  “Engaged!” Margaret shouted. “Detectors at maximum!”

  Blanchard—Janet noticed—had moved deeper into the Observation Room, separating himself from the entrance. He glanced nervously to either side as if searching for an exit, but there was no exit. There was one way in, one way out. And the only way out was filled with two guards firing fully automatic weapons. Then Janet saw that Susan had quietly retaken her seat and was merely watching the frenzied activity, head low.

  There was no escape, and she knew it.

  Janet was prepared to die. But she knew Susan wasn’t.

  Janet’s computer terminal blinked; they had almost traced the interruption back to her terminal. She shut it down again and stood, walking toward Susan. When she reached her, she grabbed Susan’s hand and moved toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” shouted Blanchard, causing Francois to turn.

  “Stop her!” commanded Francois.

  One of the guards at the door turned and stepped forward as Janet ripped out the hairpin. It was only a slice of a movement, but she touched his face and was amazed that he went down before she’d even drawn back her hand.

  He hit the floor with a muffled thud. Only his rifle made a clattering that sounded benign compared to the explosive atmosphere now thick with sulfur and smoke. But even before he fully settled, Janet stepped into the door and instinctively turned to stare in the direction of the remaining guard’s gunfire.

  Her breath caught.

  A gigantic, black, manlike shape was grappling with a dozen armed guards in the far distance of the tunnel and it was clear, even at this range, that the guards were quickly losing the battle and that the beast had intentions of approaching the Observation Room with a rage unlike anything Janet had ever witnessed.

  It was an animal but it was an animal battling with the intelligence and intent of a human being. And, clearly, it would win, in the end.

 

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