The assembled individuals were all ecstatic that none of them was about to be executed and they immediately and enthusiastically began to attempt to pry the SARs apart from one another. It was determined that SAR 4 was in good working order as were SARs 1, 2 and 5. They unceremoniously dumped the bodies out of SAR 4 onto the sand.
The ramming rods on each vehicle were designed to make jagged tears so that they could not be easily or quickly repaired. The design worked so well that they determined that none of the vehicles could be pressurized at all until they could be placed into a pressurized airlock and repaired. Now they were in a tight race to the finish; for without a pressurized compartment, they could not replenish water reservoirs or carbon dioxide scrubbing chemicals, and, of course, they could not eat. After a quick calculation, it was determined that they would all be fighting the BC1 battle breathing elevated carbon dioxide levels and only a few suits would have adequate water. In the end, they understood well that they had to proceed with maximum speed and fight the battle successfully, or die in their own suits just a few meters short of their prize.
43
he big red countdown numerals in the dining hall of BC1 and in the Command Center indicated five minutes and thirty-two seconds past six in the evening. All combat posts had been manned continuously for six hours. The small red sun was about to drop behind the distant desert horizon, and already the clear, cold sky was mostly black, emblazoned with stars that never twinkled.
Every colonist had an assigned duty. There were only 16 available space suits in the colony. Twelve suited individuals had been assigned to meet the Soviets as they attacked outside; each designated a specific station. Four suited individuals were tasked to guard the safe room or safe rooms in which everyone else, the remaining 31colonists and Kirov, were to take shelter during the attack. Both safe rooms had been lined with sand bags on every side, and even the doors were shielded with bags of Martian sand, piled in front of the entrance with just enough room to allow it to swing open.
Only Peter knew which safe room he would order to be manned, and he shared this information with no one. At the last moment, he would make the announcement instructing which safe room would be used. The consistent rumor was that both would be used to divide the chances for full disaster in half. It was only logical, and the scientists and engineers quickly deduced the probability of Peter’s decision. But no one really knew for sure, so they waited for the inevitable alarm.
Peter, Ashley and Toon were sitting together in the Command Center, musing over better times, when Toon asked, “Do you remember how all this started?” flashing his infectious, toothy smile, his straight black hair falling over his eyebrows.
“It seems like it’s been going on forever,” Ashley replied with a sigh.
Peter suddenly looked puzzled, which Toon instantly noticed.
“What?” he asked.
“Lipton… I was thinking about Lassiter,” Peter replied with a distant look in his eyes.
“What about soup-man?” Toon replied with a smirk.
“I wonder how he would have handled all this?” Peter said wistfully. “Face it, Lipton was no push-over. I just keep wondering how he would have set this whole thing up.” As he spoke, Peter’s eyes drifted to the monitor that displayed the view from Brinker’s high flying balloon. As its cameras rotated around the horizon, the image of the desert depicted before them an empty wasteland from horizon to horizon. His eyes bore into the image, attempting to make out any movement, any speck out of place. “You know, Toon, this image is remarkably bright for sunset. I don’t even see any sunset shadows.”
“Of course, my friend,” Toon responded expertly. “It’s a combination of infrared and illumination amplification and false colorization, all managed by the computer so that night is never night. That image will look just the same as it does now, even at midnight.”
“Amazing,” Peter responded in awe.
“It’s also a dammed lie,” came Francis’ voice from the door to the Command Center as it swung slowly open.
Peter, Toon and Ashley looked away from the monitor to see Francis enter with a raised handgun. It had a laser sight whose bright, red dot reflected off Toon’s forehead. Just behind him entered Brinker, Hiraldo and Covenant. Brinker and Hiraldo also held laser sighted pistols and added their bright red dots to dance across Toon’s brow. Covenant quietly closed the door behind them.
“What… what is this?” Peter demanded, standing up and waving his hands while shaking his head in bewilderment.
“Your spy, sir,” Brinker nodded to Toon as the three laser dots moved in near random circles around his forehead.
“What?” Peter and Toon asked simaltaneously.
“Peter, this man is indeed our spy,” Francis responded. “Covenant and I have been working together to catch him since Lipton’s death. We both knew Lipton’s death was no suicide. He was murdered by Mr. See here on direct orders from Shturmovoi.”
“How do you know this?” Peter rasped in astonishment.
“Let’s begin with Lipton’s diplomatic pouch. It just happened to be our friend Toon here who first tipped us off that it was full of Martian quartz. The x-rays showed it clearly. It was also Toon who first hinted at pulling the lockers off the lander so that they would have to remain behind. But last night I hammered the lock off the box and found balls of gold foil inside that advantageously also have the same x-ray reflectivity of quartz. Lipton was always a first rate ass, but he was also innocent and Toon set him up.”
“Why would he do that?” Ashley asked sharply.
“To totally destroy the colonists’ position here,” Francis replied. “It would have appeared as though we planted the foil to destroy Lipton and kept the evidence here on Mars. Lipton or one of his staff would have ultimately discovered and reported it and every permanent colonist would have been ordered home. The Soviets were sorely threatened by our permanent colony here at BC1 and they wanted it gone.
“But, too bad for our little spy here, the circuits were cut, and the Soviets had to find a new way to get rid of their only competition here. So Toon began by altering the lander’s program and in so doing murdered everyone on board, also on orders from Shturmovoi. Remember the virus program? Also his handiwork, except it was never, and has never been, a fake. While he thought he was smarter than the rest of us, he’s not. Want to talk about the loss of satellites? His work also. He was in a position to make it all happen and cover his tracks. My son, Jack, has been seeing hints of it here and there and just yesterday discovered its full definition, extent and even its author. After we reviewed his computer deception, it was a simple matter to figure out the rest, including the diplomatic pouch. The virus is real, Peter, and it’s in place ready to shut this system down at any minute. And I don’t have to tell you what happens to us and our little war if it goes off.”
“It is, shall we say, the smoking gun we needed to finally identify our leak,” Covenant added in his clipped, precise accent. “Although it’s been more like a gush than a leak. Our friendly Toon-meister has even been transmitting constant reports to the enemy even while they approach in the desert. He’s been a very busy bloody little devil indeed.”
Peter shook his head as though trying to awaken from a bad dream as he looked to Francis. “You… you’ve been working with Covenant all along? You knew even while we were looking for him? And you didn’t even think it worth your while to tell me?”
Francis’ gaze shifted between Peter and his carefully placed red dot as he targeted his weapon on Toon’s head. He said, “Peter, at first no one knew who was talking to Shturmovoi; no one. It could have been you. In my mind, it could have been Covenant; hell, how was I supposed to know? No one had the big picture. Everyone was a suspect.”
“And just who were you to take on the sole responsibility of doing any tracking down alone and outside of official channels?” Peter snapped, leveling his anger at Francis.
Toon’s eyes shifted frantically back and forth
between Peter and Francis. “This is just so much insanity! You should just take a minute and listen to yourselves,” he shouted at Peter. “Tell them to lower their weapons! Do it, now!” he screamed, pointing directly at Brinker.
“We don’t have a minute,” Brinker replied sharply. “I need someone’s permission, anyone’s permission, to shoot this man. And if you move your hand one more time, I won’t wait for permission,” he said with a steely-eyed resolve, pacing two large steps toward Toon.
“Brinker, stand down!” Peter ordered sharply. To Peter, that meant simply to stop advancing directly toward Toon and to stop talking. But to a trained Marine, it meant something else entirely different - lower your weapon.
Uncertain over this nonsensical command, Brinker shifted his eyes away from Toon just for a half-second and looked at Peter, as did Hiraldo. At that moment, Toon seized the opportunity, grabbed Ashley by the arm, pulling her in front of him and using her as a shield. Then he reached behind his belt and withdrew a six inch switchblade knife, flashed it open and held it to her neck. In that instant, Francis’s read dot flashed over Ashley’s eyes and onto her forehead.
“Lower your weapons!” Peter instantly commanded, not believing that a man he thought to be one of the closest friends he had ever had in his life was actually holding a knife to his wife’s throat. “Toon, this can’t be,” he gasped in horror, shaking his head. “Let’s work this out…”
“I would love to lie to you some more, Peter, but I am afraid time’s up,” Toon responded, raking the razor sharp tip of the knife over Ashley’s throat.
“Somebody had better do something in a big hurry, Peter,” Brinker warned, eyeing the monitor, “because that image up there is yet another one of Toon’s fakes. We’re officially blind and they may be making their approach as we speak”.
“Anyone moves, and she dies,” Toon responded, gripping Ashley tightly and slicing through her skin so that a trickle of blood began to ooze down her neck.
“Ask them how they came to work together,” Toon hissed, nodding his head in the direction of Francis and Covenant. His voice was hardly recognizable as he now spoke in a strange accent. “Go ahead, tell him and see who he trusts.”
Peter looked at Francis, who averted his eyes for a second in an apparent moment of guilt, and then looked back at Peter. “See, he knew the entire strategic picture here all along. I’ve been an operative for the Central Intelligence Agency, who also knew we had a mole in here. Lipton knew as well. We don’t have time for this, but I am a degreed meteorologist and I just passed along information to them from time to time. Most of the time, I passed it to Covenant who sent it to them.”
“Why?” Peter asked, in total shock and disbelief. “You and Covenant, and even Lipton, all working together in this?”
“For the money, I might add,” Toon responded with a sneer.
“He’s right, Peter; for the money. How do you think a staff meteorologist, twice divorced could afford to send my sons to MIT? Besides, all I did was keep my eyes open and write a few reports; that’s it, I swear it. And I’ve never lied to you, not once, ever.”
“No, Peter, he’s been lying to you all along,” Toon responded, raking his knife deeper into Ashley’s throat. Ashley looked to Peter and mouthed, “I love you.”
Toon saw her mouth move and gripped her tighter, inching the knife deeper. “Shut up, you self-righteous bitch!” he screamed.
In the micro-second that Toon moved his eyes to Ashley, Covenant expertly withdrew his own handgun from his belt and with a single move placed a bullet directly between Toon’s eyes. Toon looked momentarily surprised, and then fell away face down onto the floor.
“Fourteen seconds; move, move people!” Brinker roared lunging at Toon’s twitching body. Peter grabbed Ashley and pulled her out of the way. He quickly eyed her neck and saw that the wound was not life threatening.
Brinker and Hiraldo turned Toon’s body over with a snap. Hiraldo withdrew her knife from her belt and with a single, exact motion sliced his sweater and shirt away from his torso. On Toon’s chest were pasted four electrodes, each with dim but discernable unblinking red LED lights. Meanwhile Covenant was stripping his own shirt away.
“Move it people; hurry up,” Francis roared as Covenant lay onto the floor beside Toon. Brinker peeled the first electrode away from Toon’s chest and placed it in the nearly exact position on Covenant’s chest. He repeated it for the other electrodes as quickly as he could. But the electrodes would not stick and two fell away.
“Crap! Hold them on with your fingers; hold them on!” Brinker shouted at Hiraldo. As she did so, the red lights began to blink with Covenant’s own heart beat.
Francis sighed and swept his hands across his hair as he backed away. “That was close; way too close!”
“What was close?” Peter asked as he pressed his handkerchief against Ashley’s bleeding throat.
“What you’re witnessing is the ultimate dead-man’s switch,” Francis explained. “Toon wired himself up to his virus trigger. If and when his heart stopped beating, the real virus triggered itself and melted down the computers permanently. He gave it a 14 second delay so if one of his electrodes came off, he could put it back. You see, in the event that he was killed in the war or killed by the invading army for any reason, everyone would die with him. He lived or no one lived. Not a bad insurance policy, if you ask me. Now it’s wired to our man Julian, here, who is designated to be in one of the shelters anyway. If I were you, I’d carefully watch over this man.”
“Ashley, are you okay?” Peter asked, looking into her eyes. She just nodded, holding the cloth to her neck.
“Hiraldo, grab that first aid kit off the wall over there and tape these electrodes on so they will NEVER come off, then help him put on his sweater… carefully,” Brinker ordered. “Now we’d better figure out how to get the real image back from that balloon before it’s too late to make any difference,” he said, pointing to the monitor.
But it was already too late. An explosion rocked the Command Center as alarms sounded. “Pressure’s gone in Dome 6. Damn; it’s all the way down to zero! Power gone in 6 and 5!” Francis reported as he looked at the monitors.
“Dear God!” Peter cried. He sprang to the console, triggered the communications circuit and spoke loudly, “We’re under attack; all hands to general quarters. Shelters code Charlie; I repeat, shelters code Charlie.” In so doing, he instructed the colonists without suits to retreat to both shelters as previously assigned.
“Hiraldo, see to it that Covenant makes it to his shelter, then join me outside,” Brinker snapped, lurching out of the room.
“Who’s going to man the Command Center?” Peter asked, looking in the direction of Francis. The critical and exceedingly dangerous job of Command Center watch naturally fell to Toon whose lifeless body now lay on the floor beside them.
Francis looked momentarily stunned, and then back to Peter. “The next in line would have to be Geoff Hammods.”
“Then get him suited and in place; hurry,” Peter ordered, helping Ashley toward the door.
“No, I can’t do that,” Francis said in a near state of shock. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Peter asked urgently.
“Because, damn it to hell, my son Jack is the only one who has the knowledge to make this work. He has a handle on Toon’s little surprises including the virus program. He’s the only one who can keep us out of trouble; not Geoff Hammonds, who Toon specifically trained to stay out of his personal files and routines.”
Peter paused and looked to Francis. Jack was scheduled to be inside the safe cocoon of the shelter. But now, he would be sitting in the hottest seat of all; the Command Center which was deemed the primary target.
“It’s your call, Francis,” Peter said dispassionately, helping Ashley out of the room as Francis just looked back at him in undisguised agony. But Ashley stood firmly in place.
“Peter, I can make it. You must go with Francis,” she said to h
im with a raspy voice. Then she pulled him to her and kissed him passionately. “No mater what happens tonight, know that my love will always be with you,” she said in a broken voice.
Their eyes locked together for a long moment. “I love you,” he replied as she turned and ran away into the dimly lit passageway.
“We have a job to do,” Peter said to Francis who still looked like he was in shock. “Now let’s go do it.”
As he spoke those words, yet another explosion rocked the Command Center.
44
ut of Brinker’s worst nightmare, the attack had begun without any warning. Six colonists were instantly killed in Dome 6 as the first of the missile volleys blew a jagged hole into the side of the dome, evacuating the atmosphere to the outside. But, since each dome was sealed from the others, the damage was limited to the single dome. By the time the second missile had struck Dome 4, the colonists were out of harm’s way and sealed into, or headed toward, their lifeboat stations. The damage and death would have been far greater, except that the make-shift missiles were nearly impossible to fire with any accuracy and more than half of them either missed their targets or failed to detonate at all.
As Brinker and Hiraldo quickly pressurized their suits and exited the airlock to the outside, they activated the night vision selection on their helmets which projected an enhanced image of their surroundings onto their visors. They immediately saw a single SAR headed directly toward the Command Center intent on ramming it. Hiraldo sprinted to the rear of the SAR and leapt onto its frame. Sliding expertly around to its driver’s window, she placed her short-barreled shotgun up to the window and pulled the trigger. The SAR ground to a halt immediately. She opened the door and the body of Nikolayevich fell out onto the sand. She looked inside to find no other occupants.
Mars Wars - Abyss of Elysium Page 44
