The general’s ship landed, reducing the thrust of its turbines to the minimum, leaving the guard ship hovering some way from the landing site. Several SSS officers jumped out, and, after looking round the vicinity, took up position at its perimeter.
“All clear. We can move out,” reported the guard commander to MacQueen.
The general unstrapped himself and got out, after taking silent leave of the pilots with a salute. A strong cold wind blew in his face, disturbing his short hair. The cold easily penetrated his summer tunic and made itself felt on his body, and the fresh wind was in sharp contrast to the warm breeze in Florida, where he had just been addressing the cadets.
After presenting his hand and eyes for scanning at the entrance, MacQueen was authorised to enter. The tremendously thick door, partly recessed into the rock, turned anti-clockwise and moved back, opening the dark tunnel. In order not to breach the camouflage, the lighting was only switched on when the door was fully closed. The general was the first to step inside, the soldiers guarding the perimeter ran inside two by two, while the others had their guns trained on the area in front of the entrance. When no-one remained outside, the door returned to its original position, closing the passage. It immediately became quiet in the tunnel.
Outside, one of the ships took off, turned, and disappeared from sight, going back down the fjord towards the water. A few seconds later, the other one followed. The deafening roar and wind from the turbines ceased, and silence was restored to the fjord. The ships retraced their route back to the open sea, and only then did they soar up vertically.
Inside the tunnel, the air was warm and dry. MacQueen and his guards entered the passenger compartment of the monorail standing a little further in and took their seats. The cabin of the miniature train moved off almost noiselessly, and, rapidly gaining speed, rushed its passengers through a labyrinth of tunnels with many branches.
The underground monorail travelled fast, passing round the turns smoothly. Every few hundred metres, the tunnel branched out into several new tunnels, most of which went on penetrating for kilometres into the mountains and finished up as dead ends. The train unerringly selected the few roads which led to the command bunker.
Some ten minutes later, they reached their destination. The general went in, leaving the guard to take position at the entry post, and looked around. The interior décor of all the secret command bunkers was the same to make them more difficult to identify at video conferences: an external box of massive ferroconcrete with another box inside it, an ‘aquarium’ consisting of thick glass, simply furnished with the command control panel, a table and chairs. Nothing that was unnecessary.
The general went up to the air conditioner control panel, which shone with an amber light right by the entrance, and lowered the temperature a little. He preferred working in a cool atmosphere. It helped him forget that he was imprisoned in a mountain under kilometre-thick granite, where the air in the corridors was warm and dry.
MacQueen took off his ceremonial tunic and signalled to the computer to start up the system. While the servers were starting, he sat down, leaned back in his chair and wiped his eyes. Last time he had only had to spend a few weeks stuck in a bunker. This time, it could be forever.
“I need several back readings. Flight time to Mars and to near-Earth space. Base them on the last known speed and flight trajectory of the aliens.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is the registration number of the ship that sent the report about the aliens?”
“EMC1906, sir.”
“Have they managed to find out anything about our visitors?”
“Clarifying information was attached to their last report.”
“What is it?”
“EMC1906 managed to take several close-up photographs. Shall I display them?”
“Yes.”
The screen filled with hundreds of small photos. They had been taken over a short space of time, so could be viewed as a film. MacQueen viewed the animation several times, stopping every now and again to magnify a picture in an attempt to get a better look at the alien technology. But in vain.
Like the last time, it was not possible to make out any details of the alien spacecraft. All three ships were of the same elongated teardrop shape. Absolutely smooth surface, no acute angles, edges or convexities. One of the ships was distinguishable by its size. It was about five times as long as the others, but less drawn out longitudinally. The other two were indistinguishable from each other.
“Allocate numbers. Call the biggest Alien-1, and the other two Alien-2A and Alien-2B,” MacQueen ordered the computer.
The computer did so, synchronising with the central computer centre. The ships would now be listed under these names in all the military databases.
The first one appeared to be the main one and the other two its escorts. They could be fully automatic drones. From a military point of view, they had to be kept targeted, and it had to be borne in mind that they might try to position themselves as shields to cover the main ship, if it came to an attack.
After some thought, the General asked:
“Are we technically able to distinguish between 2A and 2B?”
“On the basis of our current information, no, sir. 2A and 2B are absolutely identical.”
“No difference in exhaust or hull temperature?”
“Nothing is known about the exhausts. The surface temperature of the alien ships is equal to the temperature of their environment, at present close to absolute zero. No higher temperature areas have been detected on the hulls.”
“Hmm.”
“Sir, the formation has increased speed. Flight time to Mars’ orbit has been reduced to eighteen hours. Thirty-three to Earth,” reported the computer.
“Has there been any exchange of information with them?”
“After they left the portal, EMC1906 made no attempt to contact them. However, they received a message from Alien-1. Shall I display the content of the message?”
“Certainly.”
There appeared on the screen, in large letters:
DO NOT PURSUE, DO NOT TRACK WITH TARGETING SYSTEMS.
ANY HOSTILE ACTION WILL LEAD TO INSTANT DESTRUCTION.
Without letting his face betray his feelings, MacQueen approached the wall serving as a screen and, with a careless gesture, wiped off the aliens’ warning, then magnified the map of the Solar System.
As the aliens approached the orbit of Mars, they would fly through a sector of space monitored by one of the automatic armed bases, which would track any flight in its sector and attack any unauthorised traffic. There was no problem with authorising the alien ships, but it was not possible to stop the base’s targeting systems tracking them. This could only be done by a servicing team landing on it.
As soon as the aliens entered the zone of operation of the base’s weapons, they would be scanned by radar. If their message was not a bluff, they would open fire on the base and probably destroy it. According to military doctrine, the attack on the base would constitute aggression, and would accordingly call for an act of retaliation. The aliens would immediately be attacked with everything available. It was beyond even MacQueen’s power to cancel this order, and that would mean the beginning of a war.
“How long before the aliens are within MRS723’s firing range?”
“Sixteen hours three minutes.”
“Which servicing team is closest to it?”
“There are no servicing teams in space at the present time. The nearest team is at its base, the Mars civic spaceport.”
“How soon can they reach MRS723?”
“Lift-off from the planet’s surface, reaching space, flight, deceleration and docking will take at least six hours. Plus reaction time.”
The General nodded in satisfaction. That would have to suffice.
“Message for servicing base. Top priority mission. Send at least three technicians to MRS723. They are to go on board and await further instructions. Notify ETA. Act on th
is immediately.”
MacQueen glanced at the other screen, where the list of forthcoming video conferences was displayed. He already had more than twenty of them lined up, and the number was growing all the time. He looked through the list of participants. So far there was no-one on it who outranked him, so they could all be ignored. They could wait.
“Sir, the formation has speeded up again. ETA Mars orbit seven hours thirty minutes. ETA Earth, eleven hours twenty minutes.”
“Damn! Is there any ship within firing range of that blasted base?”
On the map of the Solar System, three points not far from MRS723 began winking. MacQueen rapidly ran his eyes over the information about the ships. Two of them were SSS ships, and the third was a light attack ship. None of them was capable of neutralising a space fortress. The team of technicians should get there in time, but it would be tight. If the base was not switched off, in seven hours the formation would come within range of the radar and would be scanned.
Even if the servicing team did reach the base in time and managed to switch off its combat systems, the aliens would reach Earth a few hours later. Who knew with what intentions? MacQueen sighed deeply. It looked as if there would be no choice this time.
“Message for the President. Highest degree of urgency. Within seven hours, the first armed conflict with the aliens’ ships is expected. I consider it advisable to declare a general mobilisation of Earth’s armed forces. Commander-in-Chief of the Space Fleet, General MacQueen.”
###
END OF EPISODE ONE
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