"Just checking to make sure everything is running smoothly," Harrison replied, playing along with the role the colonel had given him. He felt like an idiot. "I thought that the server farm was in here. I guess I got turned around."
"Third door down on the left, sir."
"Of course. Thank you."
"No problem, sir. Is there anything else?"
"No, that will be all."
Richards' doppelganger saluted, arm out like the good little brainwashed fool he was, and then walked on down the corridor and turned left, continuing on his way. If he thought it was odd to see Harrison walking around heavily armed, he didn't say so.
Harrison, however, was badly shaken. It was like seeing a ghost. The image of his friend's bloated face, twisted in agony, floated through Harrison's mind unbidden. That wasn't something he wanted to think about, but he couldn't help it. Seeing one of the enemy who looked like his dead friend made him angry. He couldn't afford to be angry; he needed to stay focused.
Chapter Eighteen
The door to the server farm was locked electronically. A small scanner to the right of the door looked just the right size for a single finger. He had a small thermite charge for such things, but on a whim, he stripped off his right glove and pressed his thumb against the plate. A bar of light scanned the print and evidently found it acceptable, since the door lock clicked open a moment later.
Weird. Even twins had different fingerprints, but apparently the Harrison on this side had the same ones he did. He'd have to report that so new security measures could be implemented back home. Enemy operatives from this universe could easily do what he was doing here: access important locations, sabotage things. Just like he was doing. He wondered how often that had already happened.
The room was cold; vents poured cool air across the ten server towers. Bundles of cables lay strewn across the floor in a haphazard fashion. Harrison had no idea which servers held the information he needed, and there were no terminals in the room to look up the information even if he had the passcodes, which he didn't. He'd just have to take everything.
He stripped the panel off the back of the tower closest to him. Inside were many tightly spaced circuit boards and two thick hard drives. The technology seemed clunky and ten years out of date to Harrison. He wondered once again how the enemy had managed to devise a means of moving between universes when everything suggested that they were having trouble even producing enough power for themselves. Why steal fossil fuels? Certainly nothing else he'd seen suggested that they had access to advanced technology – other than the device to open portals, of course.
He shrugged out of his rucksack and set to work. He removed the back from each of the towers first. He was sure that someone was going to notice when he started jerking the hard drives out, and he wanted to get finished as soon as possible.
He glanced at his watch: twenty-five minutes until the portal reopened for the first time. He didn't intend to miss it. No way was he going to stay here longer than he had to.
Harrison had pulled half of the drives when the door burst open. Richards stood in the doorway with a drawn pistol.
"You! Hold it right there!"
Harrison was standing partially behind one of the towers. "Is that any way to speak to a superior officer, Richards?"
"You're not Lt. Colonel Harrison," said Richards. "It took me a few minutes to figure out what was bothering me, but then I had it. No burn scars on your face. I don't know who you are or how you got in here, but you're coming with me. My commander is going to have some questions for you."
Burn scars? So I managed to toast the bastard, after all, he thought. Good.
"Richards, do yourself a favor and forget you ever saw me. How's the wife?"
Richards looked confused. "I don't have a wife. Now, are you going to come quietly?"
"Sorry, but that just makes things easier." Harrison shot him twice.
He hurriedly gathered the rest of the drives and exited the room, ignoring the spray of blood and the dead man who looked so much like his old friend. He knew he'd be haunted in the days ahead by what he'd just done, but there hadn't been any choice. He had to stop thinking of them as people, or he'd never be able to get his job done.
He heard the first shouts as he raced up the stairs. The alarm sounded a moment later. With any luck, he'd make it back up to the portal without being stopped.
He had never been particularly lucky.
The two guards who had passed the office earlier met him at the top of the stairs. They must have recognized him as the other Harrison, because they hesitated just long enough for him to shoot them both. Unfortunately, one of them managed to cry out as he died.
Harrison jumped over the bodies, slipped in the blood, and raced down the corridor, wishing he'd thought to bring some claymores. He couldn't remember exactly where the portal had opened in the hallway. He didn't know what would happen if he was standing in that spot, and he didn't want to find out. Next time he'd mark the location.
Next time? Like hell!
He ran to the door of the first office and unslung his SCAR. He could hear shouts now from the stairwell. Someone had seen the bodies. He lay down on the floor, balancing the rifle as best he could, and took aim at the top stair. As soon as he saw someone's head, he fired.
The 147-grain bullet blew the top of the man's head completely off. Harrison was sure he saw the man's boots in the air a moment later as he tumbled down the stairs. The bullet continued on to smash into the stone facade of the stairwell, sending a shower of rock debris down on the others.
The next two men up the stairwell met the same fate.
Come on, he thought. The portal should be opening any time now.
Concentrating on the stairs, he almost missed what happened next. A small object arced up from the stairwell, bouncing down the hall toward him.
Grenade!
Harrison dove into the office next to him, trying to get behind the heavy desk just as the grenade detonated. The blast shattered the exterior office window, and warm, moist air rushed in after the explosion. The concussion was deafening in the confined space. He felt a trickle of blood from his left ear, which had been nearest the blast. His ears were ringing badly, and he felt dizzy. The office door was shattered and burning.
Two can play that game, he thought grimly. He loaded his grenade launcher with a buckshot grenade and leaned out into the corridor.
Three men were coming up the stairs. They shouted when they saw him, but it was too late. The grenade launcher gave its characteristic bloop sound as it fired. Canister shot was meant for close quarters, and the corridor filled with the shrill whine of angry wasps. The men didn't have anywhere to hide. The hallway had just become a view of hell as each man was hit five or six times by the 24-grain pellets. It killed only one man outright, but the other two were in no condition to fight, screaming and clutching at shattered limbs.
Harrison ejected the shell and loaded another one. This one, he directed into the stairwell. The hard stone walls made excellent surfaces for the metal pellets to ricochet from. He fired again, and agonized screams told him that the pellets had done their job. That should at least slow down the inevitable. He wondered if there was another way upstairs.
"Where the hell is that portal?" he muttered.
He glanced at his watch.
The portal should have opened just over a minute ago. It hadn't. Either their targeting was off, or they were late. He hoped they were just late.
Machine gun fire sent rounds bouncing down the corridor walls toward him, and he responded with another round of buckshot. He had just one left – not that he was opposed to using the high-explosive rounds, but they would demolish the stairs completely, and he might need them if the portal didn't open. He was also within the one-hundred-thirty-meter casualty radius of the blast, but he'd do it if he had to. He suspected they would be even less humane if they captured him than his own people had been with theirs.
With a sound like a
lady's sigh, the portal opened before him.
He dove through it, wondering why it wasn't making a howling sound, and then the blackness embraced him.
Chapter Nineteen
Harrison tumbled out of the portal and rolled to his feet. He was much more aware of the discomfort and disorientation his second time through the portal. The pain and fear lingered for seconds after his transition back into the laboratory he had left only two hours before.
"Drop the weapon! Hands on your head!"
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Harrison had to turn his head to hear the soldier's commands. He really needed to get that ear looked at.
"What the hell? You need to close the portal!"
"Hands on your head!" The speaker was a soldier in a blue bio-containment suit; he was aiming an M4 carbine at Harrison's head. Three other soldiers, similarly equipped, were ranged around the room, also aiming at him.
He placed his rifle on the floor and put his hands on his head, fingers interlaced.
Behind him, the portal groaned to a close. The rods used to generate the field stopped crackling with lightnings, and the room grew quiet.
"Okay, now what?" Harrison asked.
Another man in a blue suit came through what appeared to be a plastic airlock where the door to the room had been. He was holding the now-familiar radiation detector. A soldier escorted him near.
"Well?"
The technician looked up from the device. "It's the major," Harrison heard clearly. "The rate of isotope decay is within error margins."
The soldier with him stepped forward, stripped Harrison's weapons, and piled them on a nearby cart. "Sorry, sir," he muttered.
"Can someone explain to me what's going on?" Harrison demanded.
"Major," the colonel's voice boomed into the room from a speaker overhead. "I'm sorry for all of this, but we had to be sure it was you. At ease, gentlemen."
The soldiers lowered their rifles.
"How about me?"
"Of course, major."
Harrison lowered his arms. He was sure he had a couple of cracked ribs, and holding his arms up hadn't felt too good. There were three bullet splashes on the left side of his body armor. From the way his lower back felt, there were a couple of hits there, as well.
"Major Harrison?" a new voice boomed. "We need you to strip and place everything on the other cart."
"Is that Dr. Dixon?"
"Yes, major."
"Tell me what the hell is going on."
"We need to sanitize all of your gear and clothes. You'll have to go through detox and then a quarantine period. We'll also need blood and tissue samples to make sure you aren't carrying anything infectious."
"I thought that was the purpose of those damn injections!"
"Well, as I said at the time, it has never been tested. We have to be sure. Please, major."
"I'll need a medic in here. Also, your damn drives are in the satchel; you might not want to put those in the autoclave."
"Thank you, major. We'll get someone there straight away."
Harrison sighed and stripped. He should have expected something like this. Never trust the scientists.
"Hey, you think someone could bring me a book?" he shouted. The medical technician brought one of the books from his room and a gown for him. Another tech got the samples they needed, and left. Dr. Ferguson came in as the first medical technician finished wrapping Harrison's ribs. He might not have broken anything, but he had some spectacular bruises. Dr. Ferguson checked his ear with one of those lighted things that doctors like to poke around in ears with, an otoscope or whatever they were called.
"Well?" asked Harrison.
The doctor moved around in front of him. "I'm sorry, major. Your eardrum is ruptured. Normally that wouldn't be so bad. Give it a couple of months to heal, and everything would be fine."
"Normally?"
"Yes. In this case, I'm afraid it isn't going to be that easy. I think the bones in your ear are shattered."
"You can't set them or something?"
"They're too small for that, major. I'm sorry. There isn't anything I can do to restore your hearing. I can give you something for the pain and dizziness, though."
"I'll take what I can get, I guess."
Harrison thought about how strange it was going to be, not to be in the military anymore. He was done. Kaput. His career was over. He'd always figured he'd take a bullet through the skull, not a medical discharge.
Fergusson packed Harrison's ear with cotton and left, promising to send a tech down with the medications. He just nodded, careful not to set off more dizziness, and picked up his book. A little escape from reality sounded like a good thing just now.
A few minutes later, a voice interrupted the strange swordfight in a library he was reading about. He really hoped the whole book wasn't going to be like that; he'd never cared for fencing. It had been good up to that part, though. The protagonist was an accomplished smartass, and Harrison liked that.
"Major?"
"Dr. Dixon?"
"I may be able to help you, major."
"Help me with what, Dixon?"
"Dr. Fergusson informed the colonel about your injury. I was present. I understand what this means to you. I think I may be able to help."
"Clarify."
"There is an experimental implant that could replace the inner workings of your ear. I read about it a few months ago. It hasn't been tested yet, of course."
"When did I become your favorite guinea pig?"
"It isn't like that, major. This device could restore your hearing. I want to help you."
"You mean like a bionic ear?"
"Something like that."
"So I'll be able to hear two crickets fucking at a thousand yards? Sounds great."
"Now you're just being vulgar, major."
"Yeah, I get like that."
"Well?"
"You want an answer now? I'm sorry, Dixon. I've had a rough day. I've been shot, exploded, and cast through that damn portal of yours – twice. You think you could give me a little time to think about it?"
Harrison hadn't realized that he'd stood up. Dr. Dixon had retreated almost to the door. He looked scared, but then, Harrison hadn't put the gown on yet.
"Look, Dixon. Just get me my meds and come back in the morning, okay?"
Dixon didn't wait, though. Harrison got his orders that evening. He'd report for the procedure the next day. A specialist was being flown in. Harrison spent most of the rest of the night thinking about what it meant to be government property.
Chapter Twenty
Harrison was recovering in the infirmary a few days after his surgery when the alarms began screaming out their warning. None of the medical personnel seemed to know what was going on, so he unplugged his IV and got dressed. He felt fine. His ear was ringing, and it hurt where they'd performed the surgery, but he wasn't dizzy or anything.
He jogged through the corridors until he reached Operations.
"What's going on, colonel?" he asked as he arrived.
"Shouldn't you still be in bed, major?"
"I'm fine, sir. I'd like to help if I can."
"We've detected another incursion, an oil rig in the Gulf."
"Can we use Dixon's device?"
"That's the plan. The strike team is assembling now."
"Permission to join the team, sir."
Colonel Jackson hesitated. "Have you been cleared to return to duty?"
Harrison shrugged. "I'm fine, sir. I've fought this enemy; you need me."
"Get your gear and meet me in the embarkation room."
"Sir."
Harrison took off at a jog. He changed in a hurry and stopped by the armory to pick up his gear. The sergeant there had him sign a form and then handed over his gear. He was still adjusting straps when he arrived at the embarkation room. Dr. Ferguson and Colonel Jackson were waiting for him.
"How is your head?" asked Dr. Ferguson.
"Fine," Harrison replie
d. "Ear is ringing a bit, but it's getting better."
"That's probably normal. We don't have the exact coordinates for the rig, so we're sending the team through to Tyndall Air Force Base outside Panama City, Florida. You'll take a chopper from there to the oil rig. If you experience any dizziness, return to the chopper and provide cover for the returning team."
"Yes, doctor." Harrison had no intention at all of doing that, but he'd learned that you didn't argue with doctors unless you had to. That would just lead to him being grounded, and he wasn't going to let that happen. He needed to prove that he was still fully capable of being a valuable asset – to himself if no one else.
Colonel Jackson led him into the room with the device, which was starting to cycle up. There, ten men in full kit waited for it to open. "I believe you know Major Wilson? He'll be leading this little operation," said the colonel.
"I do. How's life treating you, Wilson?" Harrison shook the proffered hand.
"Little nervous about this thing," Wilson said with a shrug. "You've used it?"
Harrison nodded. He didn't have the heart to tell Wilson what the experience had been like. He'd find out soon enough. "I hope you don't mind me tagging along."
"Not at all. The more, the merrier. I'm told you're familiar with the enemy."
"Yup." Harrison checked his weapons while the portal powered up. "I fucked 'em hard a few days ago. I sure hope you told those flyboys we'd be coming in an unorthodox manner."
Wilson grinned. "If not, then we better be ready to shoot as soon as we pop out, huh?"
His reply was drowned out as the portal opened with a hellish screech. No one else seemed to notice the noise. It gave Harrison goosebumps. He wondered a little if he was just sensitive to something the others couldn't detect. Dixon had even told him once that the portal made no sound at all, but he knew it did. It wasn't his imagination.
Right?
Wilson gestured, and his men followed him through the hole in the air with only the slightest display of unease. Harrison knew they'd used the portal before, during the Ashland incursion. Colonel Jackson held up his hand for him to hold back from entering the portal. Harrison hoped he hadn't changed his mind.
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