• • •
Duncan and Gullick both stopped their arguing and turned as a new voice called out. “You both don’t understand!” Nabinger yelled. He looked about wildly, holding up the rongorongo tablet. “None of you do.” He pointed at the hangar. “You don’t understand what you have in there and where it came from. You don’t understand any of it.”
Gullick snatched a submachine gun from one of the Nightscape guards. “No, I don’t understand, but you never will either.” He pointed the muzzle at Duncan.
“You’ve gone too far,” Duncan said.
“You signed your own death warrant, lady. You said too much and you know too much.” His finger had already closed over the trigger when he was blinded by the searing glow of a bright searchlight. Without a noise Bouncer Four settled down behind Duncan’s group.
“Get over here!” Turcotte yelled from the hatch on top of the saucer.
“Let’s go,” Kelly said, grabbing Duncan by the shoulders and pushing her toward the bouncer. The others followed. Turcotte saw Gullick raise the muzzle of the submachine gun in his direction. “Do it and I fire the charges!” Turcotte called out, holding up the remote detonator for Hangar Two. Gullick froze. “What did you do?”
“I did a little resequencing. I don’t think it will quite work the way you’d like,” Turcotte said, keeping an eye on his people as they moved in his direction and climbed the slope of the disk.
“You can’t do that!” Gullick cried out.
“I won’t if you let us get out of here,” Turcotte promised.
“Back off,” General Gullick ordered, waving to his security men.
Turcotte stepped aside, allowing the others to climb in the hatch. When all were on board, he slipped down inside, shutting the hatch behind him. “Take off!” he yelled at the pilot.
On the ground Gullick whirled. “I want Aurora ready for flight now!” He didn’t trust this alien technology anymore.
“Yes, sir!”
• • •
“Where do you want to go?” Captain Scheuler asked from the depression in the center of the disk. He’d put up no argument at the engineer site when Turcotte had dropped through the hatch, weapon in hand, and ordered him to fly back to Hangar One. The others were sitting gingerly on the floor of the bouncer, gathered around the center. Von Seeckt had his eyes closed, trying to keep from being disoriented by the view out.
Turcotte still held a submachine gun pointed in the general direction of the pilot. “Turn right,” he ordered the pilot.
“What are you doing?” Kelly asked.
Turcotte was looking out the clear skin of the bouncer as they went around the mountain that hid the hangar complexes. He flipped open the cover on the firing button on the remote, then pressed the trigger.
“You told Gullick you wouldn’t do that!” Lisa Duncan said.
“I lied.”
• • •
Hangar Two was deserted, which was fortunate. The outer wall caved in, not in the orderly manner that had been planned, but in a cascade of rock and rubble crashing down onto the mothership, burying it under tons of debris.
In the Cube, Major Quinn felt the rumble of the explosions and watched the first rocks begin falling in Hangar Two on the remote video screens before the cameras were consumed by the man-made earthquake. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.
Gullick knew what had happened even as the last of the aftershocks of the explosions settled away. He staggered, then sank to his knees. He pressed his hands to the side of his head as pain reverberated back and forth from one side to the other, searing through his brain. A moan escaped his lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Sir, Aurora is ready for flight,” a young officer said with much trepidation.
Maybe it could be salvaged, Gullick thought, seizing upon that single idea. He slowly got to his feet. The manta ray of the high-speed plane was silhouetted against the runway lights. Yes, there was still a way to salvage things
CHAPTER 32
Airspace, Nevada
“What now?” Kelly asked. The others were gathered around, now standing on the floor of the bouncer, trying to get used to the eerie view straight through the skin of the craft. It was a bit tight with everyone inside. They were currently heading south out of Area 51 at two hundred miles an hour and slowly gaining altitude.
“I don’t know.” Turcotte turned to the others. “I got you out of there and the Mothership won’t be flying for several weeks at least. So I did my part. Where to?”
“Nellis,” Duncan said. “I can—”
“Las Vegas has got a good media hook-in,” Kelly said, excited. “We fly this damn thing right downtown! Land in the fountain at Caesar’s Palace. That’ll wake them up.”
“This isn’t a media circus,” Duncan said. “I’m in—”
“No!” Nabinger held out the wooden tablet that he’d been hauling with him throughout the entire adventure at Area 51. “You’re all wrong. We have to go to the place where the answers are.”
“And that is?” Turcotte asked.
Nabinger pointed with his free hand at the tablet in the other. “Easter Island.” “Easter Island?” Duncan asked.
“Easter Island,” Nabinger repeated. “From what I’ve decoded on this, the answers are there.”
“No way,” Kelly said. “We have to go public.”
“Agreed,” Duncan said. “As soon as we land, I can contact the President and we can stop this insanity.” She tapped Scheuler on the shoulder. “Land us at Las Vegas.”
The pilot laughed with a manic edge as his hands worked at the controls. “Lady, you can shoot me if you want, but I don’t think we’re going to land in Las Vegas.”
Turcotte still had his submachine gun ready for use.
“Why not?”
The pilot held up his hands. “Because I’m no longer flying this thing.” “Who is?” Turcotte asked.
“It’s flying itself,” Scheuler said.
“Where are we going, then?” Turcotte demanded.
“Just east of south right now on a heading of eighty-four degrees,” the pilot said. “More than that I can’t tell you until we get there.”
“Does the radio work?” Duncan asked. “I can call and get us help.” Scheuler tried it. “No, ma’am.”
• • •
“Give me a direction, Quinn,” Gullick growled into the radio as Aurora powered up.
Quinn’s voice came back through the headset. “South, sir.”
“You heard him,” Gullick said to the pilot as he settled into the RSO’s seat. “Due south.”
The plane hurtled forward and lifted. Out of the small window Gullick could just make out the silhouette of the mountain that hid the mothership. He felt the pain intensify in his head. “Stay busy,” he whispered to himself. He knew they couldn’t catch the bouncer, but at least they could track it. Eventually it would land. He ordered tankers along their projected flight path for in-flight refueling.
• • •
Kelly knelt down next to the pilot. “Do you have a map of the world?”
Scheuler nodded. He swung in the laptop control and brought up a world overlay on the screen.
“Show me where Easter Island is,” Kelly said.
Scheuler tapped a few keys. “Easter Island is in the Pacific. Off the coast of Chile. I’d say about five thousand miles from where we are right now.”
“And on what azimuth from us?” Kelly asked.
Scheuler checked, then looked up. “Eighty-four degrees.”
“It appears we’re going to Easter Island whether we want to or not,” Kelly announced. “How long until we get there?”
Scheuler did some calculations. “We’re not maxed out but we’re going fast enough. I estimate we’ll be there in about an hour and a half.”
“Well, now that we have time,” Kelly said, “and we know where we’re going, let’s find out as much as we can. Talk to me, Professor. What does the tablet say is o
n Easter Island?”
Nabinger was sitting cross-legged on the floor, the rongorongo tablet in his lap. “I’ve only managed to decipher part of this, but what I have…” He looked at a small notepad in his lap.
“Wait one,” Turcotte said. “Let’s not go through this guessing game again. Just tell us what you think it says rather than the literal translation.”
Nabinger obviously wasn’t happy about that unscientific approach, but he nodded. “All right. First, the tablet makes reference to powerful beings from the sky. People with hair of fire—red hair, I assume. They—the red-haired people—came and lived for a while at the place of eyes-looking-at-heaven. That’s how they describe it. From there they ruled after the month of the dark sky.
“Long after the month of the dark sky, the people with hair of fire went up in the great ship of the sky and left, never to return. But their…” Nabinger paused. “I am not quite sure what the next word is. It could mean ‘parent,’ but it doesn’t seem to fit in context. Perhaps ‘guardian’ or ‘protector’—remained and ruled.
“Even after the people with fire hair were gone, though,” Nabinger continued, “the little suns carried the word of the, hmm, let’s use the word guardian.”
“‘Little suns’?” Von Seeckt asked.
Turcotte remembered the foo fighter up in Nebraska and reminded the others. “So these things most definitely are connected to the bouncers and the mothership?”
“I’m certain of it,” Nabinger said. “There is more here, but it has to do with the worship of the guardian. I have only the one tablet. If I had the others I might know more.”
“How many are there?” Kelly asked.
“There used to be thousands on the island,” Nabinger answered, “but most were eventually used up as firewood or destroyed by missionaries who thought they were part of old pagan rites. There are just twenty-one in existence now—or at least there were only twenty-one suspected to be in existence. I don’t believe that counted this one, since it was hidden in Dulce.”
“How did it get to Dulce?” Kelly asked.
“Majic-12 has studied the high runes for years,” Von Seeckt said. “They never had as much luck as our good professor here has in translating them, but they have continued to collect whatever they can.”
“So maybe people for MJ-12 already have checked out Easter Island?” Kelly ventured.
“They may have,” Von Seeckt said, “but I believe I would have heard if they had discovered anything.”
“What do you know about Easter Island?” Kelly asked.
“It is the most isolated island on the face of the planet,” Nabinger said, remembering what was in Slater’s notes. “It is the place that is farthest from any other landfall. It wasn’t discovered by Europeans until 1722, on Easter Sunday—that’s how it got its name. The islanders themselves call their island Rapa Nui.”
“That remote location also helps explain why these aliens might have wanted to use it as a base camp,” Von Seeckt added. “Remember the part of the tablet from Hangar Two about not interfering with the local inhabitants?”
“What is the island like?” Turcotte asked, more focused on the immediate future as always.
For that Nabinger did have to consult the notes he’d carried in his backpack through all their adventures. “The island is shaped like a triangle with a volcano at each corner. Land mass is about sixty-two square miles. It doesn’t really have any beaches, one reason early visitors had a hard time getting ashore. It is very rocky. Almost no trees were left on the island when it was discovered. There are some now that have been planted.
“And, of course,” Nabinger said, “there are the statues, carved out of solid rock in a quarry on the slopes of one of the volcanoes. The largest is over thirty-two feet tall and weighs over ninety tons. There are over a thousand of them scattered all about the island.”
“I’ve seen pictures of those things,” Kelly said. “How did those ancient people move such large and heavy objects?”
“Good question,” Nabinger said. “There are several theories, none of which quite work.”
“Ah,” Von Seeckt said, “but perhaps our red-haired ancients might have had something to do with that. Or maybe left something lying around that the natives used to move the statues. Perhaps an antigravity sled or magnetic—”
“Is there any evidence of this guardian?” Turcotte cut in. “Anything like the bouncers or the mothership or even what was found in the pyramid?”
Nabinger shook his head. “No, but not as much is known about the island as people would like to think. We don’t know why the statues were built, never mind how they got to their locations around the coast. There is much that is hidden about the history of the island. Archaeologists are still making new finds as they explore. The island is volcanic and honeycombed with caves.”
That caught Turcotte’s interest. “So maybe there is something there?” “Perhaps this guardian still exists,” Kelly suggested.
“I hope something’s down there,” Turcotte noted, looking over Scheuler’s shoulder at the tactical display. “Because we’ve got someone hot on our tail. I don’t believe General Gullick has given up yet.”
CHAPTER 33
Airspace, Pacific Ocean
“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Turcotte said.
“What now?” Kelly asked.
“Our satellite link shows we’ve got company up ahead too. Looks like a bunch of interceptors waiting for us to hit their kill zone.”
“So what’s the get-better part?” Kelly asked.
“Well, it always gets better after it gets worse,” Turcotte said. “Either that or you’re dead.”
“Great philosophy,” she muttered.
• • •
A covey of F-16’s from the Abraham Lincoln waited over the Pacific, circling on the flight path the target was projected to follow. That is, until small glowing orbs suddenly appeared and all craft lost engine power.
General Gullick closed his eyes, hearing the panicked reports from the pilots as their engines flamed out. He took the headset off and looked at the pilot. “Where are we headed?”
“I’ve projected out the flight path of Bouncer Four,” the pilot reported. He nodded his head at the screen. A line went straight from their present location over a thousand miles west of Colombia, due south.
“Antarctica?” Gullick asked. “There’s nothing out here.”
“Uh, actually, sir, I checked. There is an island along this route. Easter Island.”
“Easter Island?” General Gullick repeated. “What the fuck is on Easter Island?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He immediately got on the radio with the admiral in charge of the Abraham Lincoln task force. That resulted in a five- minute argument, as the admiral’s priorities were somewhat different from Gullick’s. He wanted to recover the downed aircrews. A compromise was reached and the majority of the task force turned to the south and steamed at flank speed for Easter Island, while several destroyers stayed behind to pick up the crews.
• • •
Turcotte watched the dots of the waiting aircraft disappear off the screen. He felt the anxiety level in his gut kick up a notch higher despite this apparently positive development.
“Talk to me, Professor. Tell me more about Easter Island.”
“There are two major volcanoes on the island,” Nabinger said. “Rano Raraku in the southeast and Rano Kao. Both have lakes inside the crater. On the slopes of Raraku are the quarries where the stone statues were cut and fashioned out of solid rock. Quite a few statues have been found there in various stages of creation. The inhabitants shaped each statue lying on its back, then cut down on the spine until it was free. Then they hauled it to its site, where it was raised onto a platform.
“It is interesting to note,” he continued, “that the main road leading away from Raraku is lined with statues and there are some who think this was a processional route.”
“To worship the f
ire-heads?” Kelly asked.
“Maybe. There are some who think the statues were simply abandoned there when the people rose up against the priests who oversaw the making of the statues. Those people put a tremendous, almost unbelievable, amount of resources into the creation and moving of those statues. It had to severely strain the economy of the island, and the theory is that eventually the common people revolted.”
“So Raraku is the place to look?” Turcotte cut in.
“Maybe.” Nabinger shrugged. “But on the rim of the other significant volcano, Rano Kao, over a thousand feet high, is where the ancient people built the village of Orongo—their sacred village. The lake inside the crater is almost a mile in diameter. Offshore of Kao lies a small island called Moto Nui, where birds—terns—nest. In ancient times the cult of the Birdman occurred every year in September, when young men would go from the volcano rim, climb down the cliffs to the sea, swim to Moto Nui, recover a tern egg, and the first man back was birdman for the year.”
Turcotte rubbed his forehead. “Okay, okay. They have birdmen. They have volcanoes. They got big statues. They got strange writings on wood tablets. But what the hell are we looking for? Has anything strange been found there that might suggest this guardian?”
“No.”
“Then what are we—” Turcotte paused as the pilot called out.
“We’ve got company!”
They looked out as six foo fighters bracketed their craft.
“I don’t like this,” Scheuler muttered. The foo fighters were making no threatening movements, hanging in position as they flew south.
“How far out are we?” Turcotte asked.
“ETA at Easter Island in two minutes.”
The foo fighters were slowing and closing in around their craft, forming a box on all sides.
“I don’t think we’re going to have any choice about where to look on the island,” Kelly said. “I think the guardian has decided all of that for us.”
Area 51 Page 31
