She hadn’t said a word to him about Evelyn and Adamarus and she did not plan to.
Leewood’s com went off. He groaned, “What timing.”
“It could have been worse.”
He laughed. “This is true.”
Leewood was the kind of person that stood out in a forceful way. His military bearing was obvious; ramrod straight, chin tucked in. His six-foot-four inch, 205-pound body was sculptured from years of training. He wore his blond hair in a buzz cut and his face was all hard angles, which gave him an aggressive look. His light hazel eyes were calm and confident but, sometimes when he focused on you, they could go flat and dangerous.
He sat up and retrieved the com unit on the end table. “Leewood here.” He sat up straighter, “Yes, sir.” He turned to Harrington and put his finger to his lips then mouthed, “Wicker.” To the com unit he said, “Yes, sir...okay...I’ll have a look,” a pause, then, “Goodbye.”
Harrington kneeled behind Leewood's back and put her arms around him. “What’s up?”
“He’s sent me a document he wants me to review with all of the Black Raven people.” He grabbed his PDA from the end table and lay back on the bed.
Harrington grabbed her PDA off the other end table and snuggled up beside him, “Want me to schedule a meeting with everyone tomorrow before we leave?”
“Please. Thanks.”
On his PDA, Leewood pulled up the document Wicker had sent.
After scheduling a meeting with everyone with Black Raven security, Harrington put her head on Leewood’s shoulder and they both started reading.
When Adamarus and Commander Talvin Radin had learned the shocking truth from Bugs—that the Loud had been studying the alien that had attacked their star system for 800 years instead knowing nothing about them as the humans had been led to believe—a meeting had been scheduled immediately. Bugs had warned that they should keep this news as well as those attending the meeting to an absolute minimum. The only attendees were Adamarus and Radin (who had made the discovery), President Wicker, the Secretary of Defense Lance Thornton, Leewood, Dr. Lorraine Harrington (their AI and alien language expert), Dr. Van Loader (their top scientist), Dr. Donnelly (astrophysicist) and of course, Bugs.
The top end security clearance was called Red Raven. President Wicker had created a new and higher security clearance he called Black Raven to cover the meeting and what they would learn in that meeting. Later, due to Thornton’s and Van Loader’s subsequent suicides, yet another level was added so that they could tell others an abridged version, Gray Raven.
Wicker’s document detailed what the various security levels knew and didn’t know.
---
Ninety-million miles away on Amular, two men walked along a lonely stretch of beach. One man was short and bulky, the other tall and slim. A cold wind was blowing, carrying the salty smell of the ocean as well as bits of sand that stung their faces. Both men wore long dark greatcoats, their collars and tails flapping in the wind.
To one side of them, large waves broke like thunder, sending foam and water up the sand and beyond this, the sea stretched out to where the orange sun touched the horizon, turning the scattered clouds into burning coals. On their other side, the two cast long shadows across the sand that almost stretched to the base of the 100-foot cliff that loomed over them. Against its rocky face, gulls, riding on the thermals, soared and squawked through the darkening air.
The shorter man asked, “The gun…all is working?”
The taller man’s name was Blain Usher. He said, “Yes. It’s a beautiful piece of work. But…”
“But what?”
Blain huddled in his coat and said, “We’ve been trying for over a year. The opportunity to take out the primary target,” he shook his head, “I don’t know...Towers is the best…an opportunity may yet arise but...” he trailed off.
The shorter man glanced over and finished the sentence for him, “...but it may never come.”
Blain grunted his agreement. He said, “Wicker is just too well-protected. However, this news of an upcoming meeting with his inner-circle at the capital—it offers a rare opportunity. For once, all of the secondary targets will be on-planet and in the same place. Chances are excellent Aaron can get some, if not all, of them.”
The shorter of the two looked down at the sand, listening to the gulls. At last, he said, “But once we do that, Wicker’s security will be increased even more and, if Towers fails, the others will get security details as well.”
The other didn’t reply. They continued walking in silence. A large wave came in and both men had to jump and run inland a few steps to avoid getting their shoes wet.
The shorter man stopped and stared at the sunset. Iceis was now halfway below the horizon and a deeper darkness had crept across the waves, the sand and through the air. A gull cried out and its eerie lonesome shriek was carried on the wind and echoed off the cliffs.
Minutes passed and finally Blain prompted the other man, “Congressman?”
The shorter man’s head snapped around, his temper flashing. He almost corrected the other one saying that he no longer held that title, but he thought twice and let it go. Instead, he said, “We’ll only have this one chance.” The ex-congressman stopped and looked out at the sea. Finally, ex-congressman Francis De Bella replied, “Okay. Make it happen.”
---
The background stars rippled and the huge form of a Loud Umbrella ship appeared out of nowhere. It was well above the Anderson Shipyards, which normally dwarfed everything around it but the Umbrella ship offered strong competition.
The Loud ship looked like an upside down umbrella hanging above the shipyards. Its central shaft was covered with geometric shapes and stood seven miles high. The upside down awning was four miles in diameter and a quarter mile thick.
From somewhere inside the awning, a tiny speck appeared; the shuttle carrying the humans from the Hideaway Shipyards. It slowly traveled below the awning then down toward Anderson’s complex circular structure.
Below the Anderson Shipyards, Amular’s North Pole stretched away under the shimmering Northern lights.
A clang vibrated through the reception area as the shuttle docked. Adamarus’ wife, Grace, and their son, Nero, waited in the background. Upfront was Aon Lyson-Doil, the shipyard’s second in command. Right behind him was the rest of the welcoming committee, which included Vice President Arnold Hollingsworth, as well as other members of government, the military and Anderson Shipyards’ management.
The mood was somber—the head of the Anderson Shipyards was coming back in a coffin and off to the side, a full honor guard stood at attention, waiting to receive the dead.
Leewood and Harrington disembarked first followed by Adamarus, Burnwall, Radin, Evelyn, Woodworth, Jan, Donnelly and a dozen other passengers.
Much to Harrington’s relief, Evelyn had avoided Adamarus on the trip. Hearing that Adamarus’ wife and child would be at Anderson to meet him had seemed to give her pause.
The passengers and the welcoming committee greeted each other then turned as the honor guard took their positions. The cargo hatches opened and a detail detached from the honor guard and went inside. After a few minutes, they reappeared and marched out carrying three coffins; Ashley Hern, the head of the Anderson Shipyards; Mary Olman, the head of the Bernard Shipyards; and Dr. Gerald Van Loader.
---
The city of Axis had been specifically built to be the capital of the new world government of Amular 345 years ago when the last six nations combined into one. Over the next 100 years, as Amular expanded into space, exploiting the other planets and moons, the city had grown to accommodate the growing empire.
During this period, Axis' spaceports formed and grew haphazardly around the city but as traffic increased, problems grew and 170 years ago, a new central spaceport replaced all the small ones. It was constructed on a large plateau on the eastern side of the city, which offered 50 square miles of space—enough for the new facility with plenty
of room for growth, and plenty of room for a security and safety perimeter.
The perimeter started outside a 12-foot chain link fence topped with four feet of barbwire. It extended an average of 40 feet to the sheer cliff that defined the plateau. The cliff's height varied between 120 to 280 feet.
A thick hearty ice plant had been planted over the long-ivy that had grown there for centuries. It had thrived, growing three feet thick in most areas, dotted with thick green bumps rising another three to four feet.
However, the ice plant had not completely displaced all of the long-ivy, which still grew near the edge and over it. Its thick vines hung down the drop-off, covering the cliff face all around the facility.
In the predawn darkness, Aaron Benton Tower stood and worked his way carefully around the perimeter another 20 feet then crouched down again. The ice plant around him was a sea of blackness. However, even in daylight, crouched down as he was, with the dome of a fake ice plant he carried with him which covered him, he was just another of the green bumps that dotted the perimeter.
On his left, in the distance, the lights from hundreds of ships could be seen. They were spaced between large oval fueling stations and tall control towers. An assortment of hulking vehicles moved slowly between. All of this was about a mile beyond the chain link fence and the symphony of noise was indistinct and muted.
To his right, the sea of blackness ended abruptly where the cliff dropped away. Beyond, in the distance, the lights of the capital could be seen.
Aaron was in excellent shape but the trek up the old unused service road and then the stop and go progression he had to make for the better part of a mile had tired him. He was covered with sweat and the large coil of rope and phony ice plant shell he carried were getting heavier.
He rose to walk the next 20 feet but stopped when he heard a rumbling noise and felt the vibration under his feet. He dropped back down and looked toward the spaceport. A large portion of it lit up then a big cargo ship rose on an impossibly bright spear of white light. Aaron quickly averted his eyes—light from fusion drives could blind you. The ship started up slowly then gained speed as it rose into the dark sky. Aaron rose and walked forward for twice the distance and when he again crouched down, a welcome beeping came from the locator he wore on his arm. He was close.
He turned the locator until the beeping was loudest then walked forward until the beeping turned into a soft solid tone. The manhole cover was in front of him.
He pressed the top of the locator to shut it off, pulled down his night goggles and surveyed his work.
Last night he had replaced the ancient manhole cover with a lightweight imitation half covered with plastic ice plant so it could be opened and closed without it tearing up the ice plant that had buried the original one. He’d hidden the old cover off to the side covered with more of the plastic ice plant.
Satisfied, he turned and made his way carefully to the edge of the cliff. Once there, he flipped off the ice plant cover and removed the coil of rope from his shoulder, took the ties off then activated the homing device at the end of the rope.
After a quick look around, he stood and hurled the coil out over the edge and prayed that it would not get hung up in the ivy as it fell down the cliff. There was no way he could tell but his partner at the bottom of the cliff could and would let him know when he zeroed in on the homing device. This part of the cliff had an eight-foot overhang so it was a good bet the rope would make it down. He pulled the ice plant cover over him then checked his radio, looked at his watch and sat down to wait.
It took 12 minutes before the two beeps came over the radio. The rope had made it to the bottom and he replied with two beeps. A minute later he received three beeps and began hauling the rope up. Twenty minutes later, a canvas bag four feet wide and ten feet long, bulging with its contents, came over the side. He carefully recoiled the rope then started dragging the odd-shaped bag back to the manhole cover.
He’d made it about 12 feet when he heard the patrol helicopter. With a twinge of panic, he looked around and saw it following the perimeter, coming in fast from the East. As it came, its spotlight swept back and forth, illuminating the ice plant. He cursed, turned, and looked at the canvas bag trailing behind him. It was clearly visible.
“Shit,” he said and started pulling the bag in under the imitation ice plant cover as far as he could. He had it about halfway under cover—about as far he could pull it in anyway, when the copter flew over him. The spotlight was zigzagging between the fence and the cliff and blessedly, it missed him. Letting out a long breath, he watched the copter recede into the night.
When he reached the fake manhole cover, he positioned the imitation ice plant shell over it then pulled the lever under the lip and the cover popped open. He tossed down the coiled rope and then the odd-shaped bag. He followed, pulling the cover closed behind him and climbed down the steel access ladder. When he reached the bottom, he fished out his flashlight and looked around. He was in a pipe that was ten feet in diameter. It was ancient and corded. He hauled the odd bag down the pipe, which ran parallel to the cliff until he came to a smaller pipe only two feet round, which ran to the right toward the cliff for about 10 feet then, dead-ended. This, he knew, was an old drainage pipe.
He sat down and got to work.
After unpacking everything, he set about programming the small AI server. About an hour later, the ten sphere bots that had filled the bag went to work under the AI’s direction and started torching through the large pipe. They would cut and dig, following the drainage pipe toward the cliff.
He walked back up the underground pipe to the supplies he’d left the night before. He unrolled a sleeping bag and opened the backpack and made himself something to eat then settled in to get some sleep. He’d leave the same way he’d come in as soon as night came again.
---
On the second day after their arrival at the Anderson Shipyards, President Wicker contacted Admiral Leewood and asked about the document he’d sent. Leewood told him they had gone over it before leaving Hideaway and that no corrections were needed.
Wicker thanked Leewood then told him to have Adamarus brief the people listed to receive Gray Raven clearance using the document as a guide. Also, Adamarus should conduct the briefing as soon as it could be arranged—ideally within the next two days while at Anderson, using a secure teleconferencing channel where needed.
---
Jan Anderson, the head of the president’s public relations division, and Secretary of State Ed Fisher had traveled back from the Hideaway Shipyards with Adamarus and the others so they were still at Anderson. Dr. Brandon Eden had stayed at the Hideaway yards to keep the work going so he teleconferenced in for the meeting. So did the newly sworn in Secretary of Defense, Sally Barrington and General Chief of Staff Apox Yuran, as they were in the capital.
Adamarus had just finished the briefing and watched each person with concern and sympathy. Ed Fisher and Jan Anderson were overwhelmed and somewhat confused. General Yuran drummed his fingers and looked grave as he tried to come to grips with the threat they faced. However, and as expected, the two people with science backgrounds—Brandon and the new Secretary of Defense Sally Barrington were hit the hardest. They were pale and in shock.
Brandon stammered, “They have to be at least eighty million years old but more than likely they’re over a billion years old. Their science and technology...” he just trailed off. Brandon, Evelyn’s husband, was a tall, lanky man—handsome in a clean-cut way.
Sally shook her head and muttered, “We don’t have a prayer, do we?”
General Yuran agreed. “I believe that’s an understatement.”
Adamarus figured it was time to play their only cards. He’d practiced the first part, which was the lie, the truth withheld for their safety. “We can track their activities back roughly forty-five million years.” He then played his first card. “In all that time they have never changed the way they do things. Not once.”
Yuran spo
ke up, “Perhaps they don’t have to.”
“Perhaps,” Adamarus allowed. “But we think it’s more than that. We think that either there’s no life left on those Blackships and the ship is just rerunning a fixed program or, if there is life, it serves little purpose. In either case, we believe that they’ve lost the ability to adapt.
“Also, and this is key,” Adamarus continued playing his second card, “the odds that any situation like our own has occurred is…zero. Others, before us, have always seen a black hole coming at them—nothing that could be defended against. It is all but certain that the Spiral Slayers have never faced a prepared armed defense.”
“But…with their science and technology…what good does that do us?” It was Yuran again.
“We have two hundred years to figure that out, General, while the Slayers will have no time to adapt, even if they can.”
---
After sunset, Aaron got out of his car. He had parked it in front of the drywall factory among the other assorted vehicles in the large sparsely lit parking lot. He was wearing dark jeans and a black sweatshirt and leather coat. He walked briskly toward the factory entrance as any one of the night shift employees might do. Behind the surprisingly modern looking building, the 200-foot cliff looked dark and foreboding.
When he reached the entrance, he turned right on the dimly lit hedge-lined walk that circled around to the back of the building. The pine-scented air had a slight chill to it and the night was still and quiet except for the distant sound of machinery.
After circling around back, he walked another 20 feet and reached a break in the hedge. He quickly looked around to make sure he was alone then darted through the break into the darkness beyond.
Making his way up a slight hill between pine trees and shrubs, he reached a 10-foot chain link fence and located the cut he’d made in it two weeks ago. It was held closed with two twisted wires and could not be seen from a distance. He undid the wires, opened the fence and slipped through then carefully reclosed it. On this side of the fence, the trees and shrubs were thicker and unkempt.
Countdown Amageddon (The Spiral Slayers Book 2) Page 4
