Stiffly, he climbed into the cab of the truck and started the engine. He was on the edge of the wilderness that stretched to the northeast of Volgograd, formerly known to the world as Stalingrad. He felt it was appropriate that that city, site of the greatest exhibition of will of the Soviet people in the Great Patriotic War and so casually renamed by those in power, should be the first to fall to his plan.
He looked out the windshield. Mile upon mile of pine forest stretched in a mind-numbing continuity in front of him. His target lay out there, long camouflaged and hidden among the trees and swamps. When he destroyed it, the action would most certainly make them aware of what they had done to his son and all the others. He was committed to all who had sworn to uphold Mother Russia and had had their faith shattered and their pride spit on.
He pushed the gearshift lever into first and the wheels started turning, crunching the fresh snow from the previous night beneath as he moved down the old logging road. His eyes flickered for a moment from the dull glow of the headlights on the trail to the old photo he had taped to the dashboard. The young man in the sharply cut uniform, with the pilot's wings proudly pinned on his chest, grinned back at him. The Russian's eyes closed briefly-this time the pain coming from a deeper source than the radiation-and then he opened them. He focused on the road.
ESCAPE
Ayers Rock, Australia
23 DECEMBER 1995, 1130 LOCAL
23 DECEMBER 1995, 0200 ZULU
Hawkins felt physically refreshed after two hours of sleep, but the news of the missing marines hit him hard. There seemed to be no end to the conveyer belt of stupidity that channeled young men to their doom. That event only served to strengthen his resolve to follow through on his own plan.
Hawkins met the other members of the team in the chamber, where a solemn-faced Captain Tomkins stood watch. He'd had Fran gather them together while he did some last-minute checking and gathering of supplies. He threw his duffel bag onto the rock floor, and looked at the other four people.
"Did Fran brief you?" They all nodded. Tomkins looked over, curious as to what was going on.
"Are you all with me?" He stared hard at Batson, who fidgeted briefly before replying.
"What if we go where the marines went and not back to where you and Debra went?"
Hawkins shrugged. "For all we know the marines did go where we went. I don't know why they didn't send anyone back. The portal simply might have been closed off behind them."
Tomkins frowned, concerned, but held back from interrupting by the rigid lines of military rank.
Pencak slapped Batson on the back. "Come on, young man. Where's your sense of adventure?"
Hawkins picked up the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Let's go."
Tomkins finally reacted, stepping up to Hawkins. "What are you doing, sir?"
"We're going through."
Tomkins shook his head. "I wasn't told anything, sir. Do you have authorization from Mr. Lamb?"
Hawkins smoothly pulled his 9mm pistol out and pointed it at Tomkins. "This is my authorization. I'd hate to shoot you, Captain, but I think you know I will if you get in my way."
Tomkins swallowed, looked briefly at his M16 leaning against the rock wall, then moved out of the way in the opposite direction.
"Go," Hawkins ordered. Pencak stepped into the portal without a backward glance. Levy immediately followed. Fran grabbed Batson by the arm and smiled at him. "Off to see the wizard!" They stepped off together and the Wall flashed white and they were gone.
Hawkins threw a salute at Tomkins and walked into the portal.
The Other Side
The strange mixture of cold and muggy air wrapped itself around the members of the team as they stared about the dark cavern. Hawkins pointed to the light in the far distance. "That's the way we head."
"Is that where you were briefed?" Batson asked.
"I have no idea," Hawkins said. "But it's the only recognizable point in the place, and that's where Tuskin and I agreed to link up."
"What about the Russians' portal?" Batson asked. "Do you know where that is?"
Hawkins pointed. "Somewhere on the far wall, over there."
Batson held up his wristwatch. "I've got a small compass on the band. According to it that Wall is north of here. Of course," he added, "magnetic north here might not be aligned on the poles like it is on Earth-wherever here is. Plus all this machinery could be throwing the reading off. I could be picking up a strong electromagnetic field."
"This air is so strange!" Fran marveled. "And I've never seen any enclosed space so large-you can't even see the end," she added, pointing in the direction opposite to the light, where the open space disappeared into distant darkness.
"But the air is breathable to humans," Batson noted. "I don't know much about it, but that strikes me as something that would be extremely rare on another planet. Unless, of course, this is an artificial environment. That would help explain a lot."
Fran wrinkled her nose. "It may be breathable, but it certainly doesn't smell good."
Hawkins unfastened the end of the duffel bag and was pulling items out. He slid on a black combat vest decorated with a knife, ammunition pouches, and various other accoutrements of war. He took a pistol out of the bag and handed it to Batson.
"What's this for?"
Hawkins proceeded to hand one to each member of the party, including Pencak, who took hers with a look of amusement. Fran repeated Batson's question. "Why are you giving us these?"
"Because it's better to have them and not need them than to not have them and need them."
"Where'd you get them?" Batson asked, turning the pistol over in his hands.
"The marines weren't guarding their gear very well." Hawkins held his own pistol out in front of him. "Here's the safety. Forward is on. Back is off. Keep it on unless you need to shoot. You also have a safety built into the handle. If you aren't gripping the handle, the gun won't go off, even if the lever safety isn't on. There are fourteen rounds in the magazine."
Pencak held her pistol out. "Thank you, young man, but I won't be needing this. I hardly expect myself to be much of a help in a gun battle."
Hawkins took the gun back and put it in the bag.
"Me too," Levy said, holding hers out. Fran did the same. Don awkwardly put his in the waistband of his trousers.
"Let's go." Hawkins ordered.
"Do you think the craft will meet us like last time?" Debra asked as they moved out.
Hawkins shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. We don't have the time to wait for them." He paused and cocked his head as sharp cracks reverberated through the air and echoed. "Did you hear that?"
Batson pointed. "Sounded like some shots among the machinery near the far wall."
"I heard them too," Debra confirmed.
Hawkins drew his pistol and cocked it. "You all stay here. I'll be back in a minute." Without waiting for a reply, he set off in a sprint in the direction of the brief burst of gunfire.
It was hard for him to tell how close he was, because after the first few shots there was no further noise. When he turned a corner, he was surprised to see three figures in an open space near the far wall. One was kneeling, holding the other in his arms. The third was a bloody heap in the dust.
As Hawkins ran over, he recognized the first figure as Tuskin. The person he was holding was a young man and Hawkins could clearly see the large splotch of red on his shirt.
"What happened?"
Tuskin wasn't surprised to see Hawkins. "I had the other three members of the team assemble near the portal. That fool General Kolstavek had them there all along, but he would never send them through!" He gestured down at the man in his arms. "This is Potekin. He's the most brilliant physicist in my country. They would never have sent him through."
"Where are the other two?" Hawkins asked as he checked Potekin's wounds. Potekin was dying. He had two sucking chest wounds and another round had torn through his neck, nicking the artery there, the bright
red blood pulsing out of a wound that only a surgeon in a hospital could close. His eyes were wide in shock and he didn't even move as Hawkins injected him with a morphine syringe from his vest.
"Dead," Tuskin answered. "They wouldn't move fast enough. They didn't think the guards would shoot."
"Who's that?" Hawkins pointed at the body.
"A guard. He followed me through."
Hawkins looked around. "Where's your portal?"
Potekin's breathing grew shallower. A small shower of red froth poured out of his lips and with a last rattle of breath he died. "You wasted your needle," Tuskin said, sliding the body off his knees and standing. He pointed at a particularly large piece of machinery that towered eighty feet above their heads, its dark surface humming. Several pipes extended from the machine at various heights, disappearing into the rock wall. "That's where it was. Just on the other side. The portal closed after the one guard came through." He gestured with his hands. "It dwindled to a little ball and then-poof-it was gone! The other two members of my team didn't even make it through. They were killed before we got to the portal." Tuskin pulled the magazine out of his rifle and replaced it with a fresh one.
Hawkins walked over and picked up the guard's rifle. "They didn't believe you?"
Tuskin snorted. "'An American plot,' they insisted. And your government?"
"They were confused and moving slowly." Hawkins looked at the Russian. "Did a squad of marines come through at Tunguska?"
Tuskin stared at him. "You sent marines through?"
"I didn't-the government did to see if I was crazy, lying, or both. We didn't hear back from them, so we don't know where they went."
Tuskin shook his head. "There was no activity at the Tunguska portal until I tried bringing my team through." He looked up as the rest of Hawkins's party appeared. "You seem to have had better luck with your people."
Hawkins waved the team over. "What happened?" Fran asked, her eyes taking in the two bodies.
As Hawkins started to give a quick synopsis of Tuskin's story, Levy gave a gasp as she got close to the two dead men. "That's Pyotr Potekin!"
"You knew him?" Hawkins asked.
"I never met him but I read his work and saw his picture in the journals. He is-was brilliant!"
Off to the side, as Hawkins was talking to the rest of the team, Batson was staring at the wall closely. He walked over to it, running his hands along the gouged surface. Pencak joined him, leaning on her cane.
"What is it?" Pencak asked.
Batson pointed. "Do you see it?"
"What?"
"Look at the rock," Batson insisted.
Pencak looked, then returned her gaze to Batson. "What am I supposed to see?"
"You don't understand, do you?" he asked excitedly. "I had a feeling it was something like this!"
Pencak frowned. "What are you talking about?"
His answer was cut off as a noise came from the opposite direction. The skimmer appeared and settled down about a hundred feet away. They all stared in amazement as the door slid up, and the opening beckoned.
"Let's go!" Hawkins yelled. "Hurry up!"
Fran hustled forward as Hawkins took the lead, and they headed toward the skimmer. They clambered up the ramp and Hawkins helped them on board. As they settled on the benches, Fran looked around and then stood. "Where's Don?"
Hawkins shrugged off the duffel bag, dropping it on the floor. He counted heads and then looked out the door, back the way they'd come. The two bodies lay there, but there was no sign of the geologist. "Wasn't he with you when you got on board?"
"No. I lost track of him in all the confusion."
Hawkins started to step out on the ramp, but at that moment it started to pull back in and he hurriedly got out of the way as the door slid down. "Where the hell did he go, then?" Hawkins demanded. He turned to the others as the skimmer lifted and banked. "Did anyone see Don?"
"We were over at the wall when the craft came. I thought he was behind me," Pencak offered. "But I can't be sure."
"Well, he couldn't have just disappeared!" Hawkins said.
"Then where is he?" Fran asked.
Hawkins looked at Tuskin. "Did you see anything?"
"No. I thought we had everyone." The skimmer settled with a slight bump and the door reopened. They were in the same room as last time and the same door beckoned on the near wall.
"Maybe they'll know where Don is," Hawkins said as he stepped out. They filed across the floor and into the elevator.
Ayers Rock, Australia
23 DECEMBER 1995, 1200 LOCAL
23 DECEMBER 1995, 0230 ZULU
Lamb knew his ranting and raving would make no difference in what had happened, but at least it made him feel a little better. Captain Tomkins was standing at stiff attention like a West Point plebe on the other side of Lamb's desk, his eyes focused on a spot about six inches above the other man's head. "Why didn't you inform me when all of them gathered down there?"
"I didn't have any orders to, sir," Tomkins replied. "They were authorized to be there-just not to go through."
"Jesus Christ, man! This is the second time someone has gone through without my permission."
"Yes, sir."
"No one, I mean no one, even goes down there now without my explicit permission. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." "Get the hell out of here." After Tomkins had scuttled out, Lamb swiveled his seat around and looked at the SATCOM radio/video that linked him with the President. He shook his head. This was one piece of bad news he was not going to relay. Not only did he know nothing more than the last time he'd talked to the Old Man, but he'd also lost the marine squad and now the members of the team along with Pencak. Goddamn Hawkins! Lamb pounded a fist on the desktop.
"Sir?"
Lamb turned back to the entrance. His intelligence analyst stood there. "What?"
"We've got some strange imagery from Tunguska." He hustled forward and laid out a series of colored photos. "These are the thermals, hot off the down link from the INTELSAT."
"What am I looking for?" Lamb demanded, staring at the confusing array of color.
The agent pointed. "The dark blue here is the eastern edge of the target, where there's snow. No heat signature. These dark red splotches here are engines running-probably generators. This, with the haze of red coming off it, must be a stove, and the smoke that's coming out of it and cooling in the air."
"Yes, so?" Lamb said testily.
"Here, sir." The agent tapped groups of red circles. "These are people." He slid another photo in front of Lamb. "Here is the weird thing, sir. See these here?" His pointer skipped over several computer generated figures. "These are people too. Except note that they are a different shade from these other ones."
Lamb nodded. "All right. What does that mean?"
"They're dead, sir. Those are fresh bodies and their body temperature is dropping quickly due to the subfreezing temperatures there in Siberia. The computer estimates they died about ten minutes before this picture was taken."
Lamb leaned forward and looked at the photos. "How many bodies?"
"Seven."
"The marines?"
The agent considered the question for a moment. "No, sir, I don't think that's our marines. There were ten of them and that lieutenant had his finger on the trigger when he went through. There should be a bunch of dead Russians, too, if the marines came out in Tunguska. Not enough bodies."
"Who is it, then?"
"Maybe the Russians also had some people go through who they didn't want to go through," the agent offered. "Or try to go through. Or someone came out that they didn't like."
Lamb rubbed his forehead. "Keep monitoring that. Let me know if there's anything more. Is that it?"
"No, sir." The agent slid another photo across his desk. It showed the flat deck of a large naval ship. "That's the Minsk-a Kiev-class V/STOL carrier. It's the flagship of the Russian fleet off the south coast." He used his pointer to indicate several aircraft on th
e deck. "Those are KA25 helicopters-code-named Hormone by NATO. My analysts believe they're being outfitted for a long-range flight. Those round objects next to them are external fuel tanks-not normally used. We've also picked up photos of some Spetsnatz commandos test-firing weapons off the deck of the Minsk.
"There's only one possible target for them from the south coast of Australia," he added unnecessarily.
"Tell Tolliver to double his security tonight," Lamb ordered. "I want more surveillance put on the Russian fleet. If those helicopters launch, I want to know immediately. Alert the Eisenhower to be prepared to launch a protective air cover on a five-minute notice."
"What about the Australians, sir?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of them."
"Yes, sir."
"Anything further on Hawkins, Levy, or Pencak's background?"
"No, sir."
"How about Volkers or Batson?"
"Nothing suspicious, sir."
"There's got to be some connection! Find it!"
"Yes, sir."
THE OFFER
The Other Side
The row of chairs beckoned and Hawkins, Tuskin, and Levy quickly took their places, followed more slowly by Pencak, Fran, and Batson. The arms swung in and Hawkins again felt that slight prick on the back of his right hand. The room darkened and the three points of light appeared. The center one immediately expanded and a voice filled Hawkins's head. "We will listen."
Hawkins spoke first. "We have returned with an offer of goodwill."
"Is it goodwill that there is violence at one of our relays and we are forced to close it off?"
Surprisingly, it was Pencak who answered. "Let us be honest with each other. Our governments are not designed to react quickly-especially to the most astonishing development in the history of our species. They are still grappling with how to respond. We are here to show you that as a people we are worthy of being protected for the time being and that we have the seeds to develop into a race that will be worthy of membership in the Coalition."
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