by Kevin Tinto
Add another gift to the Ancients’ enhancement package, she thought.
A couple of minutes later, she finally heard the sharp thwap of rotor blades echoing off the canyons. A Black Hawk was inbound…from the wrong direction and wrong altitude.
Really, guys? Another navigational error?
Leah shaded her eyes. Sure enough, here came a Black Hawk, fudging the No-Fly Zone. She hadn’t called for support and wondered why the crew was approaching from the wrong direction. Several of the Ancients jogged toward the sound of the approaching Black Hawk, shading their eyes while Garrett tried to direct them back to the Settlement.
The Black Hawk made a sudden roll away from the Settlement and inexplicably pitched downward, losing significant altitude in the process. Either it had suddenly occurred to the pilot that his next flying job was going to be supporting well-drilling in Mozambique, or else the Black Hawk had suffered a mechanical issue and was in trouble. Leah had already seen the result of one Black Hawk crash when a rotor clipped a towering pine tree while landing. The Black Hawk had spun itself into a pile of parts, sending shrapnel in every direction for two hundred meters or more.
That crash had killed Glen Janssen, the forest ranger who had entered the cliff dwelling after Leah and shown her discovery to Teresa Simpson, then the Bureau of Land Management director. Following his death, Leah had worried that the Genesis Settlement might be cursed, and nothing since that crash had convinced her otherwise.
As the Black Hawk continued its steep descent, Leah could only assume the worst:
It’s gonna crash.
Chapter 3
I’m going to the supply LZ,” she told Garrett. “If the helo is in trouble, he’ll be headed there—it’s the only good clearing for miles around.” She hesitated. “Are you okay here by yourself?”
“As long as I don’t piss off Appanoose, there’s a better than fifty-fifty chance I won’t have my throat cut while you’re gone.”
Leah stopped dead and gave Garrett a look. “That might have been a funny a few days ago.”
Then she turned around, braced her sore body for the road ahead, and ran.
Rather, she first tried running, then resorted to jogging along the steep, deer-trail switchbacks. Quickly, her pace devolved into a hobbling walk-jog, her muscles resisting anything resembling yesterday’s adventure. Fortunately, she didn’t have to run all the way to the Landing Zone.
Her other transportation option between the Settlement and LZ had also been provided by the military: An Army Special Forces-equipped electric quad runner. It was similar to the four-wheel, off-road vehicles that every redneck and rancher in New Mexico owned. But then again, not. The Army’s electric version was equipped with high-tech options such as a suspension system that rode on magnetic fluid and a computer-adjusted suspension system to smooth the ride. Powered by a Tesla-like rechargeable lithium battery, the quad could roam more than a hundred miles at thirty miles per hour and achieve a neck-breaking top speed of sixty—all while making no sound whatsoever.
Perimeter security had built a camouflaged ‘hide’ two-kilometers north of the Genesis Settlement, deep within the forest. By the time she finished the 2K run, Leah was, once again, sucking her lungs inside out. On a more positive note, her leg muscles had finally given in, and she’d been able to run about half the distance to the hide.
Once she reached the branch-camouflaged hide, she pulled out the Ontario Survival Egress Knife that she needed in order to free the quad. Quickly, she cut the green, braided line that locked a pine-bough-woven ‘door’ in place. With the door free, Leah reached in and gripped the vehicle’s handle bars, using all her weight to muscle the quad out of the piñon shelter. After several f-bombs and other curses worthy of her mechanic friend Mac Ridley, she hauled the quad clear.
Leah swept the helmet off the seat and tossed it back into the hide. The ‘brain-bucket,’ as security called it, had a tendency to slide down over her eyes. A fact she kept to herself when interacting with the security personnel. No need to reinforce any bogus “girl” stereotypes, despite their repeated advice to wear the helmet and the armored dirt-bike jacket, she wore neither.
Leah re-secured the hide, flung a leg over the quad, and pushed the red power button center-left of the display. When the display lit up and the LED lights flashed green, she rolled on the throttle, just enough to get the four-wheeler moving. The last thing she needed was to leave a pair of non-native, peel-out skid marks right next to the hide.
Several hundred meters north, Leah descended into a solid sandstone wash and ‘put the spurs to it!’ climbing out the opposite side, as one Texas-born soldier had shown her. Unfortunately, she didn’t take into account the incline, which forced her center-of-gravity backward, sending the front tires skyward into a wheelie, the quad nearly flipping over backward and trapping her underneath.
Leah cut the throttle, and the quad slammed down on the front tires with such force that she banged her forehead on the control panel. An instant reminder of why she needed the damned helmet. Leah had spent hundreds of hours driving ordinary quads in the desert during her archaeological fieldwork, but none even approached the torque or speed of the Special Operations, combat-qualified quad.
“Whoa, Nellie,” she whispered. “That’s it. Let’s go.”
Coasting down the opposite side of the wash, Leah sucked in a deep breath, moved her weight forward over the handle bars, twisted open the throttle, this time keeping the front tires, mostly, on the sandstone as she sped toward the Supply Landing Zone.
Chapter 4
As she approached the LZ, Leah saw that the Black Hawk had succeeded in making a landing with all its parts still attached. It had already powered down and, upon closer inspection, appeared unharmed.
She parked the quad under a tree, suddenly less relieved that the helo hadn’t crashed than irritated by this latest incursion into the No-Fly-Zone.
She peered into the Black Hawk. No sign of the crew. She scanned the tree line. Sure enough, three guys in flight suits moseyed out of the forest.
Taking a leak behind a tree, she thought, holding back a grin. Glad to see they’ve been trained in wilderness-survival techniques.
Anticipating a tongue-lashing from the famously temperamental archaeologist, the two pilots and even the crew chief raised their hands in surrender. The command pilot, wearing captain’s bars, took a step ahead of his crew. “Dr. Andrews! Hold fire! Not our fault!”
She gave them her best effort at a scowl but couldn’t hold it. “Captain Hutchinson, Lieutenant Cruz, and Sergeant Bruce. What’s wrong with you guys? You know if you make your approach from the south, you’re violating our basic security protocols.”
The twenty-something, fresh-faced combat veteran said, “Yes, ma’am. You’ve briefed us many times—we tried several times to contact you via the satellite phone, but had no luck raising you.”
Oh yeah, she thought. Again, the satellite-phone issue. “You know I can’t tote a satellite phone around the Settlement,” she said, formulating a best-defense-is-a-good-offense strategy on the fly.
The pilots glanced at each other, confused as to the proper course of action. They stepped back in unison as she approached within arm’s reach.
“What?” Leah asked, raising her arms.
Hutchinson grinned, but he was smart enough not to say anything. The crew took another step back.
“Relax. Boys. As much as I might want to, kicking your asses isn’t my style.”
“That’s not why they’re backing up, love.”
Leah spun as Jack Hobson sauntered out of the piñon.
“Jack!” Leah sprinted toward the handsome climber and was ready to throw her arms around him, when he also stepped back, raising both hands defensively.
“Is this the greeting I get?” she said, more hurt than angry. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t caught the Black Plagu
e from the local rodent population.”
Jack put his hands on his hips. “And you thought my climbing gear reeked after six weeks on Everest? Damn, girl, you are downright….” He feigned a shiver.
Leah had been living and working in the cliffs with the Ancients without a bath for seven days now, dressed in the same flight suit, which had absorbed smoke, body odor, and more. She’d cooked the government-supplied corn and beans in period-accurate pottery, choked down smoke on the underside of the sandstone cliffs, gathered wood until her hands bled. She’d gone so ‘Ancient’ that she no longer noticed the aroma. She took a deliberate whiff of herself and the stench hit her like a slaughterhouse during a heatwave.
Jack was being polite.
Leah reached up and kneaded her stringy hair, then studied her hands. Her nails, rarely manicured at the best of times, were unrecognizable. Her hands were grimy, the knuckles covered with cuts, scrapes, and burns, the aforementioned nails jagged, broken, and dirty.
“Oh yeah…well, you know, I’ve been busy. Sorry, guys!”
Without warning, Jack reached out, picked his wife up, and hugged her tight. He set her down, leaned over, and gave her a deep kiss.
“Wow, “she said, wiping at her mouth, mortified at how far out of touch she’d gotten with her real life away from the Ancients.
“I tried the satellite phone for two straight days,” Jack said. “Nada.”
Leah unconsciously wiped her hands on the skins, to no effect. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so immersed with the Ancients, and it’s a pain to carry the thing around.”
“Leah. I’ve got to be able to get in touch with you.” Jack pointed at the Black Hawk crew. “Security has to be able to stay in contact. Don’t forget, there’re a lot more people involved in this beyond you and Garrett.”
Leah simply nodded in agreement.
“Don’t blame Captain Hutchinson for buzzing you,” Jack continued. “He screamed bloody murder that you’d draw and quarter him if they approached from the south.” Jack gave her a guilty smile. “Truth is, I wanted to get a look at the Settlement from the air.”
Leah nodded. “Well, no harm done. The truth is, the Ancients don’t run away from the helicopters anyway—they run toward them. The chuck wagon, rolling in.”
Jack seemed to sense her distress. “How is your plan working out?”
She winced. Despite her personal pledge to stay positive, even if it required an Academy Award-winning performance, Jack had definitely picked up her malaise. She could hear it in his tone.
“Not so good, for all of the above reasons and more. We can discuss.”
“Could it be our esteemed expert on all things ‘Star Trek’ had it right.” Jack crossed his arms, mimicking Marko Kinney: “‘The Prime Directive. Rule Number One. Never introduce advanced technology to naturally developing, less-advanced cultures and expect good things. It’s always a recipe for disaster.’” He shrugged. “You don’t mess with the Prime Directive.”
Leah gave him a pained smile. “A little late to undo that, isn’t it?”
“A little late to undo a lot of things,” Jack agreed.
Leah gave a small laugh. “At least our extraterrestrial friends had the good sense to put those people to sleep. It’s like herding cats over there.” She glanced over to see Hutchinson already in the command seat, ready to spin the turbine jet engines on the Black Hawk.
“Wait…don’t tell me you forced Hutchinson to risk his career overflying secured airspace just to get my attention. Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
The expression on Jack’s face meant bad news.
“What is it, Climber? After what we’ve been through, how bad can it be?”
“There’s news, Leah. I felt this should come from me directly—instead of through Gordon, or someone else.”
“Bad news? Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Okay. First, the President.”
“About time.” Leah rubbed her hands together. “This is gonna be good. So, have you had a chance to water-board the SOB yet?”
“No.” Jack drew in a breath. “Wheeler’s not going anywhere. And he’s keeping most of his staff intact, including Fischer, like Antarctica never happened.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Jack nodded, his expression still ominous. “Let me give it to you straight. We’re in a world of hurt right now. The Southern Ocean was the scene of a short but epic sea battle between us and the Russians. That high-energy beam we triggered breeching the complex is raising hell over the continent of Antarctica. It knocked out all satellites in the area. Ditto radio and GPS. And to make matters worse, this bizarre blackout is spreading northward into the Southern Ocean.”
She motioned for him to continue.
“That means that our forces, and the Russians’ are increasingly deaf, dumb, and blind the closer to Antarctica they get. The American base at McMurdo was evacuated before this anomaly reached the Ross Ice Shelf. Further inland, whole different story. Amundsen-Scott base at the South Pole couldn’t be evacuated, and there’s been no contact with them since we left the ice. Several aircraft-carrier-based aircraft sent to do reconnaissance over the continent crashed, for unknown reasons.”
Leah covered her mouth in shock. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so immersed in the Settlement that I forget you and Paulson are trying to prevent a nuclear war.” With effort, she pasted on a smile. “So, how’s it going over at Diaper?”
“Actually, we’re just getting started over at DARPA.” He enunciated the word carefully to counter her snide nickname for the agency. “First, we’re cataloging the artifacts recovered from the facility, including the surviving stasis units,” he said, referring to the high-tech pods in which the Ancients had been sleeping in stasis. “Kyra, the director, is brilliant, and she was briefed in detail on the whole Wheeler/Fischer debacle. One of the first things she said was that they both ought to be shot in the kneecaps and tossed into the mouth of a live volcano—so, I was instantly at ease.” Jack’s eyes opened wide. “Not to mention, she’s a world-class triathlete. She takes a couple hours each day to work out. I’m the only one who can keep pace with her on a run—so of course, she loves me.”
Leah pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “And her name’s Kyra?”
Jack grinned. “Dr. Kyra Gupta. I can fill you in on the ride to Holloman. I told Gordon the chances were slim you’d leave the Settlement, but he was insistent I get you over to his slice of medical heaven for an hour of debrief. Plus, we can spend a little time together. A welcome change from the nightmare in Washington.”
“Hm. No surprise Gordo wants to see me,” Leah said. “I wondered as much when I saw the Black Hawk inbound without an appointment. Well, I’ll give you all the horrific details on the way to Holloman.”
Dr. Gordon, was tasked with the first medical examinations of the Ancients. He’d been so horrified at their future as lab rats, he’d helped Leah escape the facility at White Sands with the first of the awakened, and also the youngest: K’aalógii.
“Sounds like we all have bad news,” Jack said. “Can Garrett handle the Ancients alone?”
Leah nodded. “He knows I was headed here.” She felt the tension draining from her body. “Besides, he’s got a better relationship with the Ancients than I ever will.” She paused for a moment. “How about Marko? Is he still bomb-sitting? Complaining?”
“If so, he’s talking to himself. We’re on radio silence with him unless he needs to report an emergency.”
“You mean like, ‘I did something and the warhead’s now making pre-explosion noises?’”
“Not even enough reason to break radio silence. Only in the unlikely event that a Special Operations Team comes sniffing around.”
“You know they’re looking....”
“As long as we provide no clues, they’re not gonna find the location. That
’s why I gave him a PlayStation 3 with strict orders not to leave under any circumstances.”
“He’s got a PlayStation?”
“I kid you not. It’s one generation back from the PlayStation 4, but how else are you gonna get a long-haired millennial like Marko to sit for days, maybe weeks, without searching for the nearest Taco Bell?”
“He might have scored the best job of all, in retrospect,” Leah said. “Unlimited food. Sleep all day. Playing idiot video games all night. Like a pig in shit.”
“Exactly how I pitched the job to him. The fact he is babysitting the warhead didn’t seem to rattle him too much. The codes…that was a different story.”
Leah stopped. “Jack—you didn’t give Marko the codes…”
Jack nodded. “The only way the warhead continues to keep us alive is if there’s a threat. If they thought we were only storing it, we’d have all been rounded up and shuttled out of country by now.”
“But Marko? Enter bomb codes? Of all the people? I mean—seriously—he can’t pour milk on cereal without spilling half of it on the table.”
“I sealed the codes in an envelope and told Marko to keep it on his body at all times. He suggested his underwear—I told him inside a sock would be better.” Jack smiled and shrugged. “Worked like a charm. I assume. He has no idea how to enter the codes. However, if we have to make a hardcore bluff, it’s impossible to do if we have the warhead, but no codes in hand.”
She glanced in the direction of the Black Hawk, which was ready to go. Hutchinson waved her over after making eye contact, then added his standard, ‘stay away from the tail-rotor’ signal: his hand slicing across his throat. It was an effective reminder.
Leah sighed. “Okay, let’s do this.” She inhaled deeply, cleared her head, then stepped up to Jack and hugged him again. “Hold your breath, Hobson.”
