The Truth a5-7

by Robert Doherty

  “This thing runs along the bottom of the Pacific, to New Zealand, through the Philippines, to Japan, up along the West Coast of Russia and along the Aleutians. Over nineteen thousand kilometers long.”

  “Back up,” Turcotte said as he passed over the shoreline and the mothership was above the blue water of the Pacific, continuing to head west at great speed. “What the heck is this plate tectonic stuff?”

  “It’s a relatively new discovery,” Quinn said. “The surface of the Earth, the crust, is made up of nine major plates, like the Pacific, and a dozen smaller ones, like the Nazca. It’s basically a crust of hard rock floating on the molten outer core. And each plate is moving, which produces one of three effects along the boundaries. When they go away from each other they form a split where material, usually magma, comes up and forms a ridge. When they collide, one plate slides under the other, producing what’s called a subduction zone. You were just at one of those zones — the Himalayas are the product of a subduction zone created by the Eurasian Plate meeting the Indian Plate. And the third is where the two plates are moving in opposite, parallel directions — the San Andreas Fault is an example of that. You’ve got all three types along the Ring of Fire, so you’ve got volcanoes and very unstable regions. When San Francisco got leveled in 1906, that was a relatively minor disturbance of the Ring — same as when Mount Hood erupted.”

  “Can one of the volcanoes erupting on Easter Island start a chain reaction?” Turcotte asked. “Those other events didn’t.”

  “We have to assume the Airlia — and the guardians — know more about plate tectonics than we do,” Quinn said. “I see no reason not to believe Aspasia’s Shadow about this given what’s at stake.”

  Turcotte frowned. “Except he’s lied about pretty much everything else he’s told us.” “Do you want to be the one to take that chance?” Quinn asked.

  Looking ahead, Turcotte saw a dot on the horizon. “We’re just about there. Is there anything we can do to stop this eruption?”

  “I’ll check,” Quinn said.

  “Better make that a quick check,” Turcotte said, as the mothership rapidly approached the island. He brought the massive ship to a halt above the international airport, then slowly lost altitude until the belly of the spacecraft just about touched the tarmac. Thousands crowded about, staring in awe and hope at the large ship.

  “Open the holds,” Turcotte said.

  Yakov was at another console, using the information he had gained from the Master Guardian. Cargo doors slid open and metal planks extended outward and downward. After a moment’s hesitation, the people poured forward, boarding the mothership. Turcotte glanced at the display. Was it his imagination or was there already a thin tendril of smoke above Rano Kau?

  Turcotte stood up and grabbed his MP-5. “When everyone’s on board, let me know.” Yakov glanced over. “Where are you going?”

  “To chat with our friend.”

  Turcotte made his way back to the Master Guardian room, where Aspasia’s Shadow was tied down.

  “Did the Russian pass you my message?” Aspasia’s Shadow asked as soon as Turcotte entered. “Yes.”

  “You know the threat?” “If you’re not lying, yes.”

  “I am not lying and I can stop it.” “How?”

  “It is beyond your ability to understand.” Turcotte brought the muzzle of the submachine gun up. Aspasia’s Shadow shook his head. “You can kill me again, but that will cost you valuable time.” “What do you want?”

  “The same thing I wanted before. The stakes on your end are higher now though.” Turcotte lowered the muzzle and didn’t say anything. A few minutes passed.

  “You are running out of time,” Aspasia’s Shadow finally said. Turcotte still remained silent.

  After a few more minutes, Aspasia’s Shadow stirred, pushing against his restraints. “The process will soon be irreversible.”

  “You’re asking me to accept two assumptions,” Turcotte finally said. “First, that if that volcano erupts it will start a chain reaction all along the Pacific Rim. Second, that if that is true, that you have the power to stop what has already been started.”

  “They are facts.” “According to you.”

  “You cannot afford to disbelieve me.”

  “Sure I can,” Turcotte said. “In your many reincarnations, did you ever play poker?” “A game? I don’t play games.”

  “Too bad.” Turcotte lapsed into silence. Yakov’s voice finally announced that all were on board from Easter Island. “We’ve got everyone,” Turcotte told Aspasia’s Shadow.

  “You saved a few thousand,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. What about the millions that will die shortly?”

  “Your price is too high. I will never give you this mothership. I’m calling you on that.” “Then millions will die.”

  Turcotte felt the pressure. He felt there was a good chance Aspasia’s Shadow was lying, but could he afford to take that gamble? “I’ll let you go and give you a Talon if you stop it.”

  Aspasia’s Shadow simply stared at Turcotte.

  The Special Forces soldier raised the submachine gun. “Your other choice is to continue dying every time you come back to life. I think that will make you long for the ka and your old life. I’ll partake of the Grail just so I can make your eternity hell.”

  Aspasia’s Shadow frowned. “You have tried lying to me, but I suspect you are telling the truth now.”

  “Want me to confirm your suspicions?” Turcotte put his finger on the trigger. “A Talon is not capable of interstellar jumps,” Aspasia’s Shadow argued.

  “Not my problem. Besides, as you noted, you have all the time you’ll ever need.” “I will take the deal.”

  Turcotte didn’t lower the gun immediately. He knew the capitulation was too swift, but he also knew he didn’t have much time. A fact of which he was sure Aspasia’s Shadow was aware.

  “What do you need to stop it?” Turcotte asked.

  “Access to the control room,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “You can keep your gun pointed at me if you like.”

  Turcotte let the submachine gun dangle from its sling as he drew his knife. He went behind Aspasia’s Shadow and cut the restraints. “Let’s go.”

  Aspasia’s Shadow walked to the corridor doorway. Turcotte prodded him in the back with the muzzle of the gun. “Run.”

  They broke into a jog along the main corridor. As Turcotte passed doors he could hear the muted roar of thousands of people crammed into various holds. Entering the pilot room, Turcotte raised his hand as Yakov spun about, reaching for Excalibur.

  “He’s going to stop the destruction.”

  “In exchange for what?” Yakov demanded, eyeing Aspasia’s Shadow as he sat down in the center control seat.

  “A Talon.”

  “I do not think—”

  Turcotte cut the Russian off. “We don’t have time to think. Are all the gangways retracted and doors closed?” Yakov nodded. “Yes.”

  Turcotte glanced at the screen. There was definitely smoke coming out of the top of Rano Kau now. Aspasia’s Shadow grabbed the controls. The mothership slowly gained altitude. At somewhere around ten thousand feet he halted the mothership.

  “What now?” Turcotte demanded.

  Aspasia’s Shadow ignored him as his hands moved over the glowing hexes that made up a large part of the control console. Turcotte felt his skin tingle as a charge passed over him. “What are you doing?”

  “What I told you I would,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “Look.”

  Lighter than the rock around it, the magma was getting near the surface of the planet. About two miles below Rano Kau, it began to melt some of the surrounding rock and had pooled, forming a huge chamber over a mile wide. This pooling had given Turcotte the time to get all the people off the surface of the island.

  Now, the pressure from below was intense, and there was no place else to go but up again. The water in the crater lake began to boil as hot gases moving ahead of the magma reached it vi
a the central vent. Steam poured into the air, then gas. It was a battle between the water and gas for several minutes, then the magma chose another direction, pouring into the guardian chamber, filling it, then heading toward a crack in the side of the chamber.

  * * *

  Turcotte flinched as the seaward side of Rano Kau exploded outward, hurling boulders the size of houses into the air. A wave of hot gas roared outward over the sea and around the volcano onto the surface of the island, killing every living thing that remained. The moai were singed by the heat, new paint that had been added to help make them a tourist attraction burned off.

  Turcotte glanced at the other volcanoes in the other two corners of the island. Both were emitting smoke. Bright red magma flowed down the side of Rano Kau and met the ocean with a hiss of steam.

  The floor under Turcotte’s feet shook as a pulse of power shot down from the mothership into the island. It passed into the ground with no apparent effect. Within five seconds a second pulse followed.

  * * *

  The power flowed into the planet, passing through the boiling magma and shaking the ground. It hit the line where the crust met the outer core, and the power dispersed, shattering rock that sifted down into the magma, interrupting the flow. More importantly, the amplitude and frequency of the shock wave was the inverse of the power wave that had been initiated. This was something only the originator of the initial wave could have known. The dampening effect rode outward from Easter Island, counteracting the power unleashed by the initial explosion.

  * * *

  Aspasia’s Shadow made a few more adjustments on the controls, then turned in the chair. “I’ve done as you asked. Now I will take my leave.”

  Turcotte could see no change on the view screens — things didn’t appear to be getting any worse, but there was still lava flowing out of Rano Kau and smoke being emitted by the other two volcanoes. “You have an eternity,” he said. “I think we’ll wait a little before letting you go.”

  “You gave your word.”

  “And I’ll honor it,” Turcotte said.

  “Ask your scientists with their measuring devices,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “They will indicate the planet is quiet once more.” A smile crept across his thin lips. “I am done as a threat. Artad and the Swarm”—he shrugged—“that is your problem. If you would give me this ship, I would help you with them also.”

  “I’d be happy right now to be done with you,” Turcotte said. “One threat at a time.” “You have no idea of the big picture,” Aspasia’s Shadow said.

  “And you haven’t enlightened me,” Turcotte replied. Aspasia’s Shadow crossed his arms and looked at Turcotte for several long seconds. “I’ve done what you asked.” Turcotte nodded toward the exit. “Go.”

  Aspasia’s Shadow stood and departed without another word. “I do not trust him,” Yakov said.

  “I don’t either, but at least we’re rid of him now.” Turcotte sat in the spot Aspasia’s Shadow had just relinquished. He reached down and took the controls. He directed the nose of the mothership to the north, toward Hawaii. The sound of a clamp releasing on one of the Talons was audible throughout the ship.

  Turcotte could sense the Russian’s disapproval and felt compelled to defend his recent actions. “I’m just trying to make sure that when we do finally end this once and for all there are enough people around to enjoy the victory. Enough have already died.”

  Yakov let out a long, heavy sigh, before sitting down. “I understand. But my people have a long history of winning costly victories. And the battles and wars never seem to end. Napoleon. Hitler. And the betrayals. We were betrayed by our own government. So, I do not trust Aspasia’s Shadow, but I do understand why you made the pact you just did.”

  Turcotte realized that was the most Yakov was going to allow him, so he picked up his SATPhone and punched in the auto-dial for Quinn. As it rang, another clamp released.

  Quinn picked up his end on the third ring. He sounded distracted, and Turcotte could hear voices in the background.

  “Major, what do you have on seismic activity?”

  Quinn’s response was immediate. “Things have settled down. Whatever you did stopped it.” “What do you have on Duncan?”

  “There’s a strange report. It appears that some Israelis — led by Simon Sherev — brought the Ark of the Covenant to what they thought was a new Majestic.” “Where?”

  “An abandoned oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve also confirmed that an Osprey was used on a classified mission in that vicinity.” “OK, then—”

  “That’s not all,” Quinn interrupted. “We got this report from one of Sherev’s commandos who is still on the rig. He says he hasn’t heard from Sherev or the others since they went inside the rig.”

  Another clamp released. Turcotte cursed. “We have anything near there that can investigate?” “I’m working on it.”

  A fourth thud resounded through the mothership. Glancing at the screens in front of him, Turcotte could see a Talon moving away. “Good riddance,” he muttered.

  “I do not think we have seen the last of him,” Yakov said.

  Turcotte had expected the Russian to say something like that. “If we cross paths again, only one of us is walking away.”

  “He is immortal—” Yakov began, but Turcotte cut him off.

  “If we meet again, only one of us will walk away, and it will be me.”

  CHAPTER 9: THE PRESENT

  Gulf of Mexico

  The floor of the chamber was covered with a fine sheen of blood, but Garlin didn’t appear to notice as he stared down at the body on the gurney. He had already killed Duncan two dozen times by pushing the probe farther into her brain.

  The Swarm, by nature a patient creature, was becoming impatient. Intercepted messages from the human intelligence network indicated one of the surviving Airlia had a Talon and was heading toward Mars, where the communications array was being built. The cycle of probing, dying, coming back to life was growing tiresome.

  The Swarm tentacle directed Garlin to take a new approach. He went to the escape pod and retrieved a flat black metal case about two feet in width and height and six inches in depth. He brought it back to the chamber and opened the front, revealing advanced surgical equipment carefully slotted in pockets inside.

  He turned back to the Ark and input new commands, directing it to have the crown scan her brain and give him a map to work with. Within seconds, a display of Duncan’s brain appeared. The artery that was failing was highlighted, but Garlin noticed something else. A small round object near the back of her head. Something solid and metal.

  Garlin removed a drill, fitted the proper adapter to the end, and turned to Duncan. He put the tip against her skull, above the artery where the aneurysms were occurring. Just as Duncan once more came back to life he activated the drill and pressed down.

  The sickening sound of metal cutting into bone was matched by Duncan’s scream.

  Hawaii

  Turcotte had been on Oahu several times in his military career and the only place he could think of to bring the mothership in to off-load all the people from Easter Island was the international airport. He maneuvered the mothership in low over the ocean toward the island, with Diamond Head off to his right and Pearl Harbor to the left.

  There was no activity at the airport that he could see and the radio reports were very confused as the people on the island tried to recover from the aftereffects of the nanovirus. It was strange to see not a single naval vessel in the harbor.

  Turcotte brought the massive ship to a halt over the main runway, got it down as low as it would go without its belly hitting the tarmac, then turned to Yakov. “Open all the cargo bays.”

  The doors on the side of the ship slid open and gangways extended to the ground. Thousands poured off the ship, but Turcotte didn’t leave the control room.

  “What now, my friend?” Yakov asked, his eyes on the monitors, watching the people. “Mars?” “Not yet. We’re not
ready.”

  “And how can we become ready?”

  Turcotte rubbed his face, feeling the stubble and the torn skin where the cold had ravaged the flesh. “Aspasia’s Shadow did say some things that made sense.”

  “For instance?”

  “Artad has a Talon. As far as we can determine Talons are warships. He knows how to use it and its weapons. We don’t even know how to work the weapon on this ship that Aspasia’s Shadow used on Easter Island. I watched him as he did it, but I’m not sure I could duplicate what he did and I knew he wasn’t going to give us lessons. I’m pretty sure I can fly this thing to Mars, but what then?” “Nuclear bombs?” Yakov suggested. “We drop them manually?”

  “Doctor Strangelove?” “What?”

  Turcotte dropped the reference. “And if they shield the hansmitter?” Yakov shrugged. “I do not know what to tell you, my friend.”

  Turcotte tapped the side of his head. “Think of what we’ve learned, bits and pieces. Something shot down the Swarm scout ship over Tunguska. And it wasn’t directed by the Airlia, the Mission, or the Ones Who Wait.”

  “A human?”

  “Who else is left?” “But how?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Turcotte said.

  “Perhaps Major Quinn has some more information for us,” Yakov said.

  Turcotte glanced at the displays, checking the off-load. “We’re heading there as soon as the holds are empty. After a side trip to an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico.”

  Gulf of Mexico

  Garlin worked quickly, ignoring the blood that was splattering everywhere. He’d removed a section of Duncan’s skull three inches in diameter, exposing the interior. He’d then made a slit through the three protective membranes surrounding the brain. He didn’t even blink as he sliced through the pia mater — the innermost layer — and a spurt of cerebrospinal fluid hit him in the face.