by Bob Mayer
For the first time in a long time, Turcotte felt at home. Even when he’d been inbriefed into the Nightscape security force working at Area 51, he’d felt like an outsider. But he understood these men and how they operated.
“What’s the threat?” Turcotte asked.
“It don’t look good,” Harker said. “The PLA, People’s Liberation Army, got several units deployed in our area of operation. Looks like there’s some real shooting going on between the PLA and Muslim factions. Also, that Zandra lady said that the people we’re supposed to link up with are locked inside the tomb, so that means things are stirred up a bit in our AO.”
Harker pointed at a spot on the side of the mountain tomb. “This is the only entrance we know of. As you can see, the PLA got a couple of vehicles parked in the courtyard and a machine-gun position set up here, on the side of the mountain right above the door.”
“How do you plan on getting in?” Turcotte asked.
“Two stages,” Harker said. “First, my snipers reach out and touch someone, taking out the machine-gun position. They’ll keep firing until we get noticed. Then the rest of us go in and clear out the guys left alive on the doorstep. Then my engineer, Howes, has got charges pre-rigged that he says can blow the doors and get us in.”
“What weapons are you carrying?” Turcotte asked.
“Two Haskins .50-caliber sniper rifles with MP5-SD3 as personal weapons. Two Squad Automatic Weapons for firepower, and two M-203s for some indirect fire. You can ask your lady friend for whatever you want to carry. Whatever we’ve asked for, she’s gotten, including some demo stuff my engineer has only read about.”
“Okay,” Turcotte said. “How are we infiltrating?”
“Ass end of an MC-130 at four hundred feet,” Harker said.
“Four hundred!” Nabinger spoke for the first time. “I thought it was going to be five hundred.”
Harker laughed, a rough sound like pebbles grating together. “Four hundred, five hundred, hell, that’s only talk. For the real deal we’ll be lucky if that crew goes up above three hundred feet to drop us. They’re going to be staying as low as they can to keep their butts from being seen on Chinese radar.”
Seeing Nabinger turn pale, Harker slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, Prof, we came up with something that’ll make your landing nice and soft.” He led them over to another photo of the tomb and the surrounding terrain. He tapped on the photo. “That’s where you’re going to jump.”
His finger rested on a small lake about two kilometers from the tomb, on the same side as the entrance. Turcotte knew what Harker meant about a soft landing, although he also knew there was a downside to parachuting into a body of water at night.
“The MC-130 navigates by reflected radar images,” Turcotte explained to Duncan and Nabinger. “The smooth surface of the lake gives a very large signature that the plane can easily find, so that’s good. Plus we can look out the back and double-check we’re in the right place before we jump.”
“Fucking-A on that,” Harker said.
Turcotte knew what the other man meant—anyone with any time in Special Forces had been on drops from MC-130s where they landed miles from the intended drop zone.
Turcotte slapped Nabinger on the back. “You don’t have to worry about having to learn how to do a parachute landing fall or breaking your leg.”
“No, just drowning,” Nabinger muttered.
Turcotte thought it best to avoid that topic right now. “What about exfiltration? Had any time to look at that?”
Harker scratched his jaw. “Well, that’s another story. There are several places we can use for PZs.”
“PZs?” Duncan asked.
“Pickup zones for helicopters,” Turcotte explained.
“Like I said,” Harker continued, “there’s plenty of PZ locations. What worries me, though, is that the warning order said we were going to have two MH-60s take us out. Now, I may not be the brightest guy in the world, but I do know a little about the Blackhawk. I know that it doesn’t have the range, even with external tanks, to make it from here to the target area and back. Not even close. I’m kind of curious how they think they’re going to do this and who’s flying the mission.”
“Maybe they’ll in-flight refuel,” Turcotte said. “Some of the specially modified Task Force 160 Blackhawks have that capability.”
“Yeah, the choppers might have the capability,” Harker acknowledged, “but I doubt very much the Air Force is gonna put one of their tankers over Chinese airspace.”
“I’ll talk to Zandra about it and see if I can get more information,” Lisa Duncan said.
“Well, if the Air Force gets us in the right place,” Harker said, “I’ll get you in the tomb.”
Turcotte, Duncan, and Nabinger looked at the imagery and maps of the mountain that was Qian-Ling.
“It’s big,” Turcotte noted. “Any idea how far it extends underground?” he asked Nabinger.
“None. As far as is known, no one’s been in it since it was sealed.”
“Great,” Turcotte said.
A woman’s voice cut in. Zandra had walked in while they were talking. “Your gear is waiting and the plane is landing, so I suggest you get moving.”
As they left the room, Nabinger shook his head and spoke in a voice only Turcotte and Duncan could hear. “You know, this is kind of bizarre, don’t you think?”
“What is?” Turcotte asked.
“Well, here we are, using the best technology man has, to get into an ancient tomb in China, to try and find out about the Airlia. Maybe, like Kelly said, we aren’t ready like Aspasia thinks we are if we can’t even agree with the Chinese government to let us take a look without having to sneak in.”
“There’s no doubt mankind is not united enough to join arm-in-arm with some advanced alien race,” Turcotte said. “But that’s not what worries me.”
“What does concern you, then?” Duncan asked.
“What worries me,” Turcotte said, “is whether mankind can get its shit together enough to fight an advanced alien race if we have to.”
“All of you except Ki stay here,” Che Lu ordered. “He and I will go back the way we came and try the right passageway.”
They had taken the left passage another half mile past the light shaft, only to find it ended abruptly in a smooth stone wall. The disappointment weighed heavy on the students and Che Lu, but she knew better than to give in to the weight. She had turned them around and led them back to the shaft of light.
“If we find something, I will send Ki back.” Che Lu didn’t want the others shuffling behind her as she explored down deeper. She knew it was only a matter of time before one or more of the young students gave in to their fears and became a liability. At least the daylight would give them some comfort, although she knew night would be falling soon.
Taking the bamboo stick and all the flashlights but one, she and Ki headed back the way they had come, the light off to conserve it, using the stick along the wall to search for the intersection, since they had already passed this way and knew it to be safe and smooth.
“We’ve lost a hundred meters in the last two hours,” Tennyson reported, his voice echoing through the cramped interior of the Greywolf.
“Keep your eye on the gauge and let me know if we lose more.” Commander Downing wasn’t worried about depth right now. Condensation was forming on the interior of the submersible, adding to the chill that was seeping in from the outside. He had the battery heaters off, conserving power, and keeping the foo fighters from reacting to any indication of energy, but he knew he couldn’t do it indefinitely without it getting so cold inside that they would become hypothermic.
Downing twisted his head and looked out the small portal into the dark water. There was nothing for almost five minutes; then, right on schedule, one of the foo fighters drifted past, its glow the only source of light other than the two emergency lights inside the sub.
“Damn,” Tennyson muttered, looking over hi
s shoulder. “What do you think those attack subs are doing?”
“They’re waiting, just like we are.”
“For what?” Emory asked from his console.
“For something to happen,” Downing said. “Either the foo fighters will do something or go away.”
“So we’re waiting on those things,” Emory said.
“Actually,” Downing said, “I think we’re all waiting on Aspasia to wake up and sort this all out.”
The members of the Special Forces team and their two straphangers finished loading their rucksacks onto the floor of the MC-130 and seated themselves along the right side of the plane on the cargo webbing seats. To Turcotte’s eye the team looked like a group of seals out of water, as they all wore black dry suits over their camouflage fatigues.
In the bustle of loading onto the plane Turcotte had not had a chance to talk to Duncan alone. Just a hurried good-bye and good luck and then the back ramp had come up, sealing them off from the outside world, and the turboprop engines kicked into life. Turcotte felt a little out of sorts, and he shook his head to clear it of extraneous thoughts and focus on the task at hand.
Turcotte had coordinated several checkpoints en route to the drop zone. The loadmaster in the back of the aircraft would relay the checkpoint number from the navigator to him as they crossed each one, keeping him oriented to where they were on the route. At checkpoint one, where the aircraft dropped altitude and headed for the coast of China, Turcotte would have the team start their inflight rig to put their parachutes on. The last checkpoint was six minutes from the drop zone, where Turcotte would start his jump commands.
Turcotte glanced at Nabinger, who looked most uncomfortable in his dry suit. The professor was probably beginning to regret his enthusiasm about Qian-Ling and what might be hidden in the tomb. Turcotte knew that Nabinger would regret it even more when the plane began its low-level flight across China. Pressler, the medic, started passing out Dramamine pills to those who wanted them. Turcotte knew the Dramamine would help reduce the motion sickness that was an integral part of any MC-130 flight. He made sure that Nabinger downed one.
The wheels of the MC-130 lifted off the tarmac and the plane roared into the night sky.
Duncan watched the plane until it was no longer visible. Then she walked back to the operations center. She looked at Zandra, hunched over the communications console for a few minutes. As she walked behind her, Zandra finished whatever she’d been doing, then turned and faced her.
“Time to work on the plan to get them out of there, don’t you think?” Duncan asked.
Zandra pressed the tips of her fingers together. “Certainly. It’s already being done.”
“By who?”
“By a responsible agency,” Zandra replied.
“Who are you?” Duncan asked.
“I told you—”
“And I know it’s bullshit,” Duncan said. “I’ve been around Washington a long time and I have some connections. You’re not CIA. Hell, you’ve got more clout than the CIA. It would have taken the agency a week to get that Air Force plane here to fly that mission and a ton of paperwork, but you had it here with less than twelve hours’ notice and with authorization to send it into Chinese airspace.”
“The authorization came from a presidential directive,” Zandra said. “You can verify that if you wish.”
“Not from a directive issued by this president,” Duncan said.
“Nevertheless, I do have my authority from a presidential directive,” Zandra said, “and you are required by law to support me.”
“Your execution of this mission does not bear the stamp of the CIA or any other government agency I’m familiar with,” Duncan said. “Nor did the Rift Valley operation.”
“You question me because I am efficient?” Zandra asked.
“I question you because I want to know who you really work for,” Duncan said.
“And I’ve told you that,” Zandra said.
“What I’d really like,” Duncan said, leaning close to the other woman, “is for those people you just sent to be brought back. They are not expendable, do you understand?”
Zandra didn’t blink or avert her gaze. “I understand quite clearly.”
Che Lu and Ki had passed the four-way intersection twenty minutes ago and continued straight through, taking what had originally been the right-hand passage that headed deeper into the mountain tomb. At first the passageway ran straight and slightly down, but now it began to do wide turns, right, then left, then back right, going down at a steeper angle until Che Lu suspected they were below the base of the mountain and into the Earth itself.
It was slow and tense going as the fear that any second they might trip another trap weighed heavily on their psyches. Despite her fear Che Lu was amazed at the length and exact construction of the tunnel they were moving down. The walls and floor were perfectly smooth and the tunnel seemed to go on forever.
Of course, she’d had to reevaluate her entire frame of reference about the tomb since seeing the holographic alien figure in the main tunnel. Ancient Chinese workers had not carved this tunnel out of rock. She had been so concerned simply about survival that she had not taken the thought farther than that, but as her mind went in that direction she felt the very roots of her knowledge base suffer tremors of uncertainty.
What was true now? What was the real history of her people and the people of Earth, for that matter?
“There!” Ki huffed, suddenly halting.
The tunnel widened ahead, opening into a chamber, the far end, sides, or ceiling of which their weak flashlight could not reach. Ki looked over his shoulder. “What now, Mother-Professor?”
“We go in, follow the wall to the left so we don’t get lost.”
But that wasn’t necessary, because as soon as they stepped out of the opening of the tunnel, a very dim glow appeared high above their heads. Both instinctively stepped back, afraid, but the light went dark.
“Ah,” Che Lu spat out. She was tired of this tomb’s games. She stepped forward several paces into the chamber. The glow came back, growing stronger with each passing second. Soon it was as if a mini-sun were hovering about a quarter mile above their heads.
Che Lu turned her head, taking in the scope of her surroundings. After so long limited to the confines of the small scope of light from the flashlight, she was staggered by what her senses revealed.
She was inside a massive cavern. Metal beams loomed up from the nearest wall and disappeared overhead, curving to follow the dome ceiling around to come down, she supposed, on the far side, which was hard to see because of the obstructions in the way. Obviously, the Airlia had not trusted the rock enough to hold without additional support. There were numerous large objects scattered about on the floor, the exact purpose of which was indeterminate. Most were in the form of black rectangles ranging from a few feet in size to one over a hundred meters long and sixty high. There were other shapes scattered about here and there also. As far as Che Lu could tell, the far wall was well over a mile and a half away.
To the far left was a bright green light glowing out of the wall, brighter even than the one overhead. Unable to determine the scale of the light, Che Lu had no idea how far away it was, but she estimated at least a half-mile.
“What is this?” Ki whispered.
Che Lu felt the same need to speak quietly, awed by the scale of their surroundings. The place felt old and abandoned, with a thin layer of dust covering the floor, which was the same smoothly cut rock as that of the tunnel.
“I do not know,” Che Lu replied.
“This is not a tomb,” Ki said.
“No.” Che Lu realized her student hadn’t yet grasped all they had experienced yet. “It isn’t of human origin either.”
“Ah!” Ki yelled and stepped back as a red circle appeared in front of them. Che Lu held her place, recognizing the beginning of a hologram. Soon the same figure was in front of them that had greeted them in the corridor. It spoke for several
minutes in the same musical voice, occasionally pointing over its shoulder at parts of the room, then it disappeared.
“Let’s go back,” Ki suggested.
Che Lu regarded him curiously. “Back where?”
“Back to the others.”
“And then?” she asked. “We wait to die?” She pointed at a place the figure had also pointed at several times, where the strong green light was emanating. “We go there.” She started walking, not even waiting to see if Ki followed. She had no fear now. The message this time was different from the one in the tunnel, she could feel that. The first had been a warning; this one, well, she wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it had not been a warning. She didn’t bother with the bamboo cane and pole.
She led them amid the machinery, some of which hummed with power.
“Look!” Ki cried out.
Che Lu looked in the direction he was pointing. There were three men moving between several of the large objects, about five hundred yards away, moving toward their position.
Che Lu instinctively grabbed Ki and pulled him back. The men were out of sight now, behind something. Che Lu took a deep breath.
Ki had pulled a small knife out of his belt and was gripping it with white knuckles.
“Put that away,” Che Lu said sharply.
“But—”
One thing Che Lu had definitely noticed about the figures was the AK-74 weapons each held. Che Lu slowly looked around the edge of the next machine, Ki right behind her. Looking ahead, she could see one of the men about eighty yards ahead, halted and silhouetted against the green light source.
Where were the other two? Che Lu thought. Her instincts were tingling. Turning, she froze, looking into the end of two AK-74’s. Che Lu looked from the muzzles to the heads; they were not Chinese, that was for sure. She combined the weapons with the camouflaged smocks they wore and made a guess as to their origin.
