“Mualama thinks the Watchers had it but then it disappeared.” Quinn paused. “I don’t know, sir, but I think this is all connected. The second mothership, the Master Guardian, Excalibur, and the shields.”
“What is Sagamartha?” “I’m checking on that.”
There was a lot in the message that Turcotte turned over in his mind. “What else?”
“Someone else must think we know something, too,” Quinn said. “Who?”
“I’ve got the CINC-PAC on the line. He wants to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“How the hell should I know?”
The explosion from the usually mild and meek Major Quinn caused Turcotte to smile for the first time in a long while.
“I think he wants your advice about the Alien Fleet, considering you had me send the warning about the shield,” Quinn added in a milder tone. “Given that we’re the ‘experts’ on the Airlia.”
“Put him through,” Turcotte said.
Pacific Ocean
The entire Alien Fleet slowed to a halt. The maneuver took a while as the mass of the three capital ships was enormous and, even with their screws turning at full-thrust reverse, it was over twenty minutes before they became still. The massive doors the nanomachines had built into the bow of the Jahre Viking slowly swung open.
Inside, two submarines, identical in appearance down to the name stenciled on the sail—USS Springfield—floated side by side. One was the original, captured by Aspasia’s Shadow’s forces off the shore of Easter Island. The other was the copy, made by the nanomachines.
Both powered up and sailed out of the bow, slipping below the waves, taking their place in the fleet. All the ships began moving again, picking up speed. Inside the massive open area in the front of the Jahre Viking, two more copies of the attack submarine Springfield began to materialize molecule by molecule. The two in the water were different from the original Springfield, Los Angeles class, though. Near the bow on either side were newly constructed intakes. As the two submarines cleared the Viking, water was sucked in, passed along a series of baffles that increased the pressure and speed of the flow, then ejected it through two openings just in front of the rear fins.
A standard LA class sub was rated at almost thirty-five knots, very fast indeed for a submarine. With the added propulsion system, the two subs began accelerating away until they were slicing through the water at over sixty knots.
Airspace Central Pacific Ocean
The F-14 carrying McGraw and Olivetti edged behind the S-3 Viking airborne tanker. A refueling probe extended downward and latched onto the intake on the F-14. Fuel from the large pods underneath the wings of the Viking flowed through the probe and into the nearly empty tanks of the F-14. The transfer continued for over two minutes until both pods were empty, then fuel from the rest of the Viking’s tanks were tapped until they were drained and the F-14’s full.
The probe disconnected. The Viking’s engines coughed, sputtered, then died. The plane nosed over and fell toward the ocean. The infected crew made no attempt to make an emergency water landing. It smashed into the ocean killing all on board and shattering into pieces.
In the sky above, the F-14 continued on its way across the Pacific on the mission assigned by Aspasia’s Shadow. Inside the cockpit, the nanovirus was at work on both men’s lungs, rearranging cells.
“Popeye” McGraw stirred in his machine-induced coma, crying out, almost like a dog having a bad dream, his hands weakly reaching out and pawing for the ejection seat handle. The cry turned to a yelp of pain as the Guide imprinting took charge, and punished the part of his brain that was still “free.” McGraw’s body was silent once more.
Beijing, China
The vote in the Chinese Assembly in Beijing was swift and overwhelmingly in favor of siding with Artad. Several factors weighed in that decision.
First, was the fact that Artad’s Shadow had been Shi Huangdi. The first emperor in a country that, despite almost a half century of Communist rule, still revered the days when it was the Middle Kingdom and the center of the world. Here was an opportunity for China to return to its place as the leader of the world with the alien’s help. This was the deciding factor for the more emotional of the Chinese legislators.
Second, was the fact that the nuclear strike on Qian-Ling had been defeated. The more practical legislators saw it as a case of it you can’t beat him, join him. Even if the “him” was an alien.
Third, were the reports of what had happened to the American ships around Easter Island. A war was shaping up between the alien factions and there had been no offer of alliance from Aspasia’s Shadow on Easter Island. While the Chinese cheered the defeat of the Americans fleets, they also realized that the United States might just be the first domino to fall before Aspasia’s Shadow’s forces. Fourth, Chinese forces were already massing on the coast across from Taiwan and along the borders with North Korea and Vietnam. The world was in turmoil, the dreaded American fleet in the Pacific was for the moment not a factor, and the Chinese military was clamoring that it was time for China to strike. An alliance with Artad would undoubtedly help all their planned moves.
Fifth, Qian-Ling was in western China, where ethnic Muslim forces were revolting. With Artad’s help, the Chinese politicians believed they could regain firm control of the area and put down the rebellions.
In the end, only six of three hundred voted against the alliance. The agreement was messaged to Qian-Ling.
The six were taken out of the parliament into the Square and summarily executed with a bullet to the base of their skulls. Their bodies were strung up to lampposts with cardboard signs hung around their necks proclaiming them traitors to the new Middle Kingdom.
The orders for the various military forces to prepare to attack both Korea and Taiwan were also sent.
And special orders, as dictated by Artad, were sent to military detachments stationed in western China.
Kashgar, China
Over two thousand miles away from the capital in Beijing, Kashgar was the provincial capital of the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region. As such it was far removed from much of the political maneuvering that occurred in the east.
However, despite the distance, the Chinese military remained firmly in control in Kashgar.
When the commander of the garrison received the order from Beijing to prepare a special operations team for an assault to the west there was no questioning the command. The aircraft and troops were alerted. However, the orders stated they were not to move until some special envoys arrived.
Qian-Ling
A Chinese helicopter landed on a dirt road just outside the black shield wall protecting Qian-Ling. A crew chief jumped off, sliding the door to the cargo compartment open, then waited. The land was scorched from the nuclear weapon, which the Chinese had detonated in an attempt to destroy Qian-Ling and the aliens inside.
That things had changed was obvious as the shield wall flickered off for a few seconds and three figures walked out. The shield returned as they approached the helicopter and got on board. The aircraft was off the ground in a hurry, the pilots not wanting to be in the “hot” area or near the strange shield longer than needed.
In the rear of the chopper, Lexina and her cohorts, Elek and Coridan, were on the first leg of the mission they had been given by Artad.
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
Admiral Kenzie shut off his SATPhone. What Turcotte had just told him confirmed his worst fears. He looked at the satellite imagery once more. There was no mistaking the two carriers flanking the massive tanker. The last message from the Norfolk lay crumpled on his desk. Kenzie was CINC-PAC, Command in Chief, Pacific Area Command. The last month of his tenure had been a disaster on a scale exceeding the worst in American military history. The two captured carriers and assorted escort ships in the photo pictured two-thirds of his naval might.
He had one carrier group left in this hemisphere—the USS Kennedy. It was anchored less than a mile away in Pearl Harbor. An
d the Alien Fleet—his own ships—were less than a day away, steaming at flank speed.
Through the windows of his office, Kenzie could see Honolulu to the east, all the way to Diamond Head. There were a million people on Oahu, with another half million on the other islands in the chain. A million and a half people. Never, not once since taking this position, had Kenzie ever thought those people would be threatened. He never dreamed that he would have to make the decision facing him today.
His phone buzzed and his secretary’s voice came out of the box. “The president is on the line, Admiral.”
He stared at the phone for a moment, then picked it up. “Mister President, Admiral Kenzie here.”
“I’ve been listening to my National Security Council, Admiral, about the various options. None of them sound good to me. You’re the man in the hot seat. What do you say?”
“Mister President, I recommend Task Force Eighty put to sea.” “And?”
“Sir, we can’t penetrate the shields surrounding the ships in the Alien Fleet. I believe that fighting it out will only end the same way the last several confrontations with the Airlia fleet have been resolved—with Task Force Eighty becoming assimilated into their forces. And Eighty is the last line of defense not just for Hawaii but for the West Coast of the United States.”
The president’s voice rose. “So you’re just going to turn tail and hide?” “No, sir.” Kenzie turned his chair so he could look out of his office to the west. Like a forest of gray, he could see the masts of the ships anchored in Pearl. “I want permission to take the fleet to sea, swing westward around the Alien Fleet—which Aspasia’s Shadow won’t expect—and prepare to attack Easter Island when the shield is turned off.”
“And who is going to turn off this shield?” the president asked.
Kenzie realized he had to phrase this most carefully. “I am under the impression that various covert units are working on that very problem.”
There was a long silence, then the president’s voice came back. “That is the advice I am receiving here. God help us.”
CHAPTER 7: THE PAST
London, England
Spring 1924
“Because it is there.”
The answer took the reporters by surprise. They’d expected a long patriotic speech about why George Mallory was attempting the Everest climb for God, Queen, and country. He was standing on the wharf, next to the loading plank for the ship that would take him and his partner Sandy Irvine to India and it was the last time the English press would have a chance to talk to him.
He ignored the shouted questions and raised his hands, quelling the outburst. “You will have to excuse me, gentlemen, but I must do one last check of equipment before we sail. I would hate to have forgotten something important.”
As the reporters laughed, he turned without a smile and walked up the gangplank, his new partner Irvine right behind him. The gear was packed belowdecks and Mallory disappeared through a hatchway. Irvine hesitated, then went toward the rear of the ship once his partner was out of sight. A man in a long black coat waited in the shadows near the wheelhouse.
“Very interesting answer Mr. Mallory gave,” the man said as Irvine came up to him. The man’s face was lined and his dark hair streaked with gray. His eyes danced with an inner light, darting about manically. He held up his hand and made a strange gesture, a secret sign that Irvine returned with the appropriate hand signal.
“I am Nikola Tesla,” the man said.
“I have heard of you,” Irvine said. “There are some who say you have harnessed great powers.”
“Some will say anything,” Tesla said evasively. “What exactly do you think he was referring to when he said ‘it’? The mountain? Or—” Tesla paused, then put emphasis on the word: “‘it’?”
Irvine shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!” Tesla hissed. “This is more important than your pride.”
Irvine was unfazed by the outburst. “You’ve never seen Everest. Never stood in its shadow.”
“Everest is not the goal. What is hidden there must be protected.” “I will do what is required.”
“You must stop him—and the thing inside of him,” Tesla said. “Yes, yes.” Irvine was anxious to be off.
“You must be careful,” Tesla said. “Watch Mallory closely.” “That is why I am doing this,” Irvine said.
“You are doing this because you were ordered to,” Tesla said.
“I am doing this, yes, because I was ordered,” Irvine agreed, “but also because it will be one of the greatest achievements in history. The North and South Poles have been conquered. Everest is the last, great unknown.”
“And that is why it is there,” Tesla said.
Irvine frowned. “And if Mallory is”—he searched for a word—“corrupted? How do I stop him?”
“Kill the host body high enough, then the Ancient Enemy cannot survive.” “You are certain of this?”
Tesla nodded. “I’ve learned much. I destroyed their craft years ago, but we know now some survived. The Ancient Enemy is very patient. It has spent years gathering information, learning where it is, and now it is finally taking an action.”
“Why now?” Irvine asked.
“Because the peak finally seems within man’s capability of climbing and coming back down.”
“We hope it is,” Irvine said.
“I envy you,” Tesla suddenly remarked.
“Why?”
“Because you will see it.”
“If I make it there,” Irvine said. “And find the location.” “That is secondary.” With that Tesla strode away.
Mount Everest
Summer 1924
A hundred-foot-high vertical step blocked the path. It was a rock outcropping from the mountain rising above the northwest ridgeline extending down from the mountain-top. Sandy Irvine stared at it for several moments, then turned to Mallory. The elder climber simply pointed up. Mallory had led on the previous step, and now it was Irvine’s turn. He used his ice ax, chiseling out a small step. Then another. Then two handholds. He levered himself up, then reached as far above his head as he could and hammered a piton into a crack in the rock. He put a snap link in, then the rope that connected him with his climbing partner.
Irvine felt the rope tighten around his waist and lift him as Mallory leaned back on belay. There was no way a man could have reached this point on Everest, above twenty-seven thousand feet, climbing alone. This step alone would have been impossible for one man to climb. How much longer would that hold true, Irvine wondered. He could not see the summit from his position on the step so he continued up, ever so slowly.
After almost an hour, Irvine reached the top of the step, his hand scrambling for a hold. He found one and pulled himself up on top of the outcropping. He lay still for several moments, simply trying to catch his breath, knowing he never would at this altitude as the air was too thin. He rolled onto his back and looked up. The summit was only five hundred feet above—he started laughing to himself—only! And the top of the Kanshung Face, a mile-high almost purely vertical slab of rock that made up a large part of the north face of the mountain was to his left. That was where it was.
Irvine slowly got to his feet. He finally knew he could make it the rest of the way without help. When he felt a tug on his waist, Irvine looked down. Mallory was waiting, his face hidden behind oxygen mask and goggles. Mallory began to climb, putting pressure on the rope. Irvine belayed. Mallory made quick time and was within ten feet of the top when Irvine pulled out a knife and held it against the rope.
Mallory paused when he noted he wasn’t being helped on the belay and looked up. Irvine couldn’t see his partner’s face behind the goggles and mask, for which he was glad. It made Mallory seem like a thing, making what he was about to do more palatable. Still, he didn’t cut the rope. They had been together for months, traveling from England by ship, then overland by train, and then by horse and—finally—for months on foot, steadily higher into the
Himalayas. He’d found Mallory to be withdrawn but competent, with little sign of the change Irvine had been told had occurred. It had brought forth doubts about what he’d been instructed to do. Mallory wrapped one arm around the rope, locking himself in place, then pulled aside his oxygen mask. “What are you doing?”
“I cannot allow you near it.”
Mallory reached with his free hands into his parka and pulled out a small glowing orb. “This must be placed on it.”
“Why?”
“To destroy it.” “Why?”
Mallory cocked his head slightly, as it was a stupid question. “You have no idea of the truth.”
“I know you’ve been corrupted by the Ancient Enemy,” Irvine said.
Mallory nodded slightly. “It is part of me. But it is here to save you.” “That is not what is written.”
Mallory didn’t reply. He reached up for a handhold. With that, Irvine cut the rope.
Mallory desperately clung to the side of the mountain. He didn’t speak again even though his mouth opened up, farther and farther. Irvine could hear bones cracking and ligaments tearing. Something gray was now visible in Mallory’s mouth, coming forth. Irvine didn’t wait to see more. He threw his ice ax at the climber and it hit him in the head. Mallory lost his grip, scrambled for it, then arched backward from the step, free-falling, until he slammed into the base and then began tumbling, picking up speed. Irvine watched as the body smashed into rocks, still rolling, then fell off the first step they had climbed earlier that morning and was gone down the mountain.
Beyond that Irvine knew there was a thousand feet of nearly vertical rock before his partner would crash into rock, ice, and snow. The curious thing was that Mallory had not screamed or made a noise as he slid, as if he accepted and almost welcomed his fate. The memory of whatever had been coming up into Mallory’s mouth caused Irvine to shudder, even more than the freezing cold seeping in through his clothing.
Irvine checked the sun, which was well past its apex. He knew if he continued upward his own death was inevitable. He also knew that he could not make it down alone. He looked up at the summit, then across at the top of the Kanshung Face. The summit? Or the other way? Irvine turned toward the Kanshung Face. It was late in the day and he knew, at best, he would reach the location just before dark, if not after the sun was gone. And that would seal his fate as effectively as a firing squad. And what would be the point of summiting when he was going to die there anyway? No one would know of his feat.
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