Ascent

by Thorby Rudbek

  “What’s the latest on the fugitives, Leroy?” Ed asked as he gestured his intention to go into the vehicle, his emotions still struggling to make sense of themselves and appoint a leader from the various contestants.

  “Ah,” Fraser pushed his feelings to one side and attempted to continue as though he had not noticed Baynes’ anger and frustration. “They raided a warehouse in Springfield, Massachusetts, just over two hours ago, and stole an extraordinary quantity of ‘beryllium’ in ingot form. They were using a new pick-up this time. The Mercedes was found undamaged on a side street in Springfield a few minutes ago, too.”

  “I don’t care about the car.” Baynes sounded irritated with what he considered to be an irrelevancy. “What would they want beryllium for?” he wondered. “And what’s an extraordinary quantity? Oh, carry on,” he added hastily, as he realized Fraser had not finished. “Give it to me in a logical sequence.”

  “It seems that the mind-control we had become aware of has some limitations; this time they had to resort to violence to succeed.” Leroy sat on the edge of his boss’s desk and started to sketch on the pad of paper in front of him. “They got past the security guard easily enough; they must have been able to convince him they were a regular customer or something. Then they met a number of warehouse personnel at the loading dock and tried to convince them of their authenticity. That’s when Karen seems to have passed out. That box that we observed on the video of the escape being carried by Richard doesn’t seem to have anything to do with mind control, instead it turns out to be an impressively high-powered laser; it was mounted on the roof of the truck and was used to scare the guys into loading one hundred ten pounds of the metal into the back of the truck.”

  “So what violent act did they perform?” Ed could now see the layout of the warehouse yard and the location of the loading dock sketched out on the paper before him, and found it difficult to focus, as the size of the laser seemed to preclude any conceivable power source known to man.

  “I was just coming to that. We believe that the security guard was reading his paper, after the two had passed through, and recognised the photos of our fugitives as the two that had just entered the restricted area. We know this because it was found by the police lying on the desk in the guard house with a few pen marks on and around the relevant article. He took action!”

  Baynes watched intently as Leroy showed the route taken by the security guard as he drove to intercept the thieves.

  “The laser was used to blow out one of the front tires as the vehicle negotiated a turn, causing it to flip onto its roof and throwing the unseatbelted occupant across the interior, breaking the guard’s neck and killing him, almost instantly. The two then escaped by driving their stolen pick-up through the security barrier, smashing it to pieces.”

  Baynes leaned back in his swivel chair and tilted his chin up, a gesture Leroy had learned to interpret as a request for conclusions.

  “Judy and I discussed this at length just a couple of minutes ago,” Fraser continued. Ed looked around at the mention of his most valued assistant, Brisson, and confirmed that no one else was in the truck.

  “We think that one of the two used some kind of mind-control techniques to convince the guard to let them enter, without going through the usual checks first. Later, after they had already passed, he may have checked and discovered that there were no pickups scheduled for today; or perhaps he didn’t need that kind of confirmation, after seeing their photos in the newspaper.

  “At the loading dock, the three men present had allowed Richard to start loading the metal, apparently unconcerned about the authorization usually required, when they suddenly became suspicious. It was exactly at this point that Karen seemed to pass out. So we came to the conclusion that Karen is the mind-controller, and that she is exhausted. This is the most likely explanation, as we have records of Richard’s personality from before his coma, and the intensive tests performed on him in that Boston hospital, and there are no indications of any unusual powers, whereas we know nothing of Karen’s existence before she made her visit to the high school principal, so she may have been here, or elsewhere, perhaps even in years of intensive training to prepare for this task.”

  “Let me show you the evidence as I see it.” He counted off his points as he made them. “Firstly, they left at ten-oh-nine p.m. last night, and just moments before they left, all NUIT personnel had been rendered unconscious. In the video record of their escape it was clear that Richard was supporting the girl as they left Citadel. Secondly, the agent assigned to patrol the area they then entered, including the car lot downtown where they stole their first vehicle, unaccountably left and checked out the other end of Main Street at around the time the theft occurred. Third, the gas attendant up by the highway just outside of Redcliff equally unaccountably fell asleep at his till just after a car pulled in, removing another witness from the scene. Fourth, the model on the highway between Worcester and Springfield said she felt compelled to stop for the two people on the hard shoulder. Again, Karen was seen to be on the verge of exhaustion, yet she had been observed by several townspeople in the days and hours before the school fire, and was always full of energy.” Leroy paused to let his ideas gel.

  “Now we have the incident at the warehouse, and the fact that Karen passed out during it suggests that all this otherwise unaccountable stuff is her doing, and that the cumulative effect has rendered her exhausted, and they are running scared.”

  “That’s it, sir.” Brisson said emphatically, by way of confirmation.

  At the sound of her voice, Baynes looked around to see Judy climbing into the truck.

  “So, if we can just keep them so tired that she can’t function, all we have to do is knock out the laser, or remove it from their possession, and they’ll be completely defenceless.” She walked over and stood restlessly by the desk. “And I believe we can do that in a number of ways.”

  “Why should it be possible to take out the laser when Citadel seems to be impenetrable, and both are products of the same advanced technology?” Ed interjected.

  “Even alien technology must have limitations,” Judy theorized. “And analysis of the reflective properties of the box as recorded in our video datafile shows that it is not formed of the same, unearthly material as Citadel. But the best way would be to separate the two operatives from their weapon by staging some kind of accident along the route back here, then using the ‘overkill’ principle to neutralize the weapon while they are injured, unconscious, or at least distracted.”

  “You think they’ll be heading home now?” Ed watched as both Leroy and Judy nodded. “So you have concluded that this beryllium must be essential to the operation of some equipment in Citadel?”

  “I think it must be fuel, sir,” Judy stated boldly.

  “Why so?”

  “Stands to reason,” Fraser interjected. “I don’t think that Citadel was grown here, like some gigantic squash.”

  Baynes laughed, despite the gravity of the situation, as he pictured his communications expert’s view of the artefact.

  “It must have flown here, then been disguised with the battlements that now feature so prominently on it.” Leroy looked at Judy, trying to determine if he had overstepped her rather undefined bounds of familiarity by making her case for her. Strangely, she did not seem to mind at all, but just urged him to continue.

  “So, if the beryllium were needed for something else, they would have simply flown over to get it, rather than attempting this perilous cross-country trek, undoubtedly knowing that their ship was under observation,” Fraser finished simply.

  Judy finally interrupted: “Thus, the only possible reason for the long road trek would be to provide the fuel necessary to fly Citadel.” She folded her arms emphatically to indicate that the theory was complete.

  “And now they have the fuel, so….” Baynes nodded in agreement, then his attention seemed to wander. Finally, Brisson coughed to regain contact with her superior. He looked up at
her questioningly.

  “I understand that I should set up the ambush with Fraser, and that he can contact all the necessary departments, but what about Citadel, sir, what should I do about the excavations? Mr. Blackwell....” Judy trailed off uncertainly.

  “Mr. Nathan Blackwell is now in overall control of the situation.” Ed found some slight comfort in the fact that the members of his team felt as badly about the change in leadership as he did. “I have been allowed to retain control of the search and capture operation only. Mr. Blackwell has–”

  Baynes was cut off by a huge explosion that rocked the vehicle and drowned out his voice. Seconds later, the tinkling sound of shattered remnants falling from above was heard from the roof. Ed ran out, followed closely by Brisson and Fraser.

  “Get down!” Eric appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and stopped them outside, gesturing them to crouch close to the truck. “Wait here, I’m not sure it’s safe to go any nearer.” Kirouac looked ready for combat; he was holding his 5.56 mm calibre rifle at waist height and panning it from side to side constantly as he scanned the surroundings. The NUIT team huddled together for a moment, crouching close to the side of the truck, watching the soldiers scurrying about in the thick smoke and dust.

  After a minute or so, the dust started to settle. “Okay, everyone, follow me.” Ed stood up. He had produced an M9 handgun from somewhere and he gestured with it towards the smoke. “Eric, bring up the rear.”

  As Baynes walked slowly towards the site of the explosion, the smoke began to blow away, revealing Citadel, but with a new and distinct slant. A huge, irregular crater, probably in excess of fifty feet across and at least thirty feet deep, had appeared under the turret nearest the ocean. That end of the artefact had fallen into the hole formed by the explosion, causing the other end to stick up into the air like some prehistoric remains in the badlands of Alberta, newly exposed by a heavy rainfall. Some of the battlement stones had been dislodged and had fallen to the ground, where they lay embedded in the soft soil like over-sized tombstones, and the scaffolding had been ripped apart at one point by the tremendous force of the blast. The tarpaulins hung in shreds from the twisted metal, and the scaffolding at the far end was now suspended high in the air, swinging slowly from the tarpaulins stretched across the top of Citadel.

  As they took in the scene, the weight of the metal became too great for the tarpaulin to bear, and the fabric started to tear with a deep sound like an ancient door moving on rust-ridden hinges. The metal framework crashed to the ground, causing a stampede as soldiers and engineers ran for safety. The next house up the street stared back in shock through glassless windows.

  “I need a medic, here!” Someone cried from the edge of the crater, where he was bending over a bundle of clothing. Judy ran over, to discover that the clothing was made of a dark blue fabric, one that looked familiar to her. It partially covered a crumpled and bloodied body, one that she remembered seeing standing in conversation with her superior just a few minutes earlier, but the remains were so badly mutilated that she could not determine whether the body was lying face down, or whether the mangled and blackened blob at the top was Mr. Blackwell’s face. The medic ran up, dropped his bag beside the body and bent over the mangled remains, then looked up as Ed and Leroy arrived.

  “He’s dead, sir,” he stated, with an air of finality.

  It seems I’m back in command, Ed thought grimly. “Can someone give me some idea of how this happened?” He spoke loudly as he looked around at the soldiers who were still criss-crossing the muddy ground.

  A sergeant marched quickly over and saluted. “Sergeant Preston, sir!”

  Baynes nodded.

  “The demolition team was discussing the placement of various shaped charges with Mr. Blackwell, who was also taking the opportunity to examine the structure from close range. There were a few charges being prepared, but there were no detonators present yet. We have them, still locked up, in our chief engineer’s truck.”

  “Hey, we need the medic over here, this one is still breathing!” Someone waved from the far side of the crater.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The medic picked up his bag, leaving the body without a second glance, and ran around the irregular edge of the massive hole towards the soldier bending over the crumpled form lying there.

  “Of course.” Baynes stated automatically to the back of the receding figure. “Thank you, sergeant.” He walked back from the edge of the crater and approached the observation vehicle, automatically checking for damage to his command centre. A crack ran from the upper right corner of the windshield to a white rimmed, fist-shaped hole in the lower left-hand quadrant. Two more cracks radiated from the hole to the bottom of the windshield. A chunk of metal, probably a piece of scaffolding, was jammed into the front grille, and a stream of antifreeze was already making its way across the sloping road towards the far gutter.

  That’s two dead. Does that mean they feel threatened now? He stopped to think, then noticed Fraser, Kirouac and Brisson standing behind him. Turning, his thoughts came together in a rush.

  “Leroy, tell Major Glenn that I am resuming control of the operation. I want no explosives within a hundred-yard radius of the structure. No personnel, either, once the search for wounded and dead is concluded. Then call Washington, and update them.” He turned to Judy: “Let’s figure out that ambush now, Brisson. Kirouac, see if Mr. Blackwell’s aide is uninjured. If he is, ask him to report to me immediately.”

  Eric saluted and marched off smartly.

  Ed turned and started towards the door, then stopped as he realized Judy was not following. He turned back to her and found her staring blankly up the slope at the body on the edge of the crater. Someone was just covering it with a portion of one of the tattered tarpaulins that lay around the bombsite.

  “Judy,” he said gently. He took her by the arm and led her into the dim interior. She followed his guidance without a word; he seated her and went to get her a drink from the refrigerator.

  “Blown away,” Judy whispered. “His head, it… Blown away.”

  “Here, Judy.” Ed returned and handed her a plastic cup that he had filled from an ice-cold can. “Drink it. Take your time.”

  He sat and watched his observations officer as she sipped at the frigid liquid. Gradually her eyes lost their glassy look and the sheen on her forehead evaporated.

  Eric found the late Mr. Blackwell’s aide, safe and sound but badly shaken, behind one of the massive M-1 Abrams tanks, being watched over by the crew. He had been on his way to use the facilities in one of the vacant and commandeered nearby houses, when the explosion occurred. By the time he had calmed down enough to continue his short trip, escorted by Kirouac, and return to the vicinity of the terrifying incident, Judy had recovered her composure and was working hard with Ed on the plan to ambush Richard and Karen.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  If the tale is a good one, it will stay with you – Winseuw

  “How do you know which movies to choose, anyway?” Doctor Tracy Wilde began, as she opened the front door of her house and stepped inside. “I almost gave up going, after watching three lousy ones in a row at ‘med’ school. I don’t think I’d been in a theatre for four years, until I met you.”

  “It’s easy, really,” Brad Hawk explained as he followed her into the kitchen and watched her fill up the kettle. “I listen to the informal reviews given by my passengers as they sit around waiting for action to begin at the job site, or wherever. Then I usually go to the ones they panned.”

  Tracy laughed. “Well, that one was great. I haven’t felt this good in a long time! Obviously it was just the movie; it couldn’t have anything to do with the company I keep.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and winked.

  ‘Hawk, the self-employed’ grinned back at her, then stretched and leaned back against the counter-top beside her until his spine cracked. “Aaaah! And, as for me, anything would be an improvement, when you’ve spent a day and a half crawling under your
‘copter.” He looked her in the eye. “Thanks for coming, even when you have to work later,” he said sincerely, the flippant pose slipping away, as he seemed to have found a conduit to peer into her soul.

  Tracy broke that contact reluctantly, opened a cupboard, passed him a package of chocolate-chip cookies and walked into the living room. “I needed to relax; sometimes ‘Emergency’ can be so draining. So I’ll be a bit tired tomorrow; I can always sleep in on Sunday, like you do.”

  “I guess. I can’t imagine it.” He was referring to her special kind of work, not the idea of sleeping late. “All I ever see when I try to picture it is big MASH tents full of wounded soldiers, and doctors in army uniforms.” Brad sat down by the low fire with a sigh and leaned back into the soft cushions of Tracy’s couch. He tore open the package and offered her some of the cookies, which, he observed with approval, were generously endowed with large chocolate chunks. She declined. Brad took a couple – as a start – and laid the package on the coffee table. He looked at her again as an idea came to him. “I’ll have to drop in some night and see you at work.”

  “Don’t!” Doctor Wilde gave a mock shudder. “I look awful in those blue smocks and pants.”

  ‘Brad the part-time mechanic’ chuckled. “You couldn’t look as bad as I did today after the oil line broke. I considered getting sand-blasted; I didn’t know how else I could get cleaned up in time!” He waved his still-stained fingers in front of his face.

  “I prefer that to blood, any day.” Tracy grimaced as she remembered a particularly bad case from the previous week. “I wouldn’t mind so much if it were just unavoidable accidents, but some people seem to have a ‘death-wish’, they do such crazy things in their desperate search for a little excitement, a little spice in their lives. I like to be very cautious – you won’t catch me sky-diving, water or snow skiing… Running is about as dangerous as I’ve ever got.” She stood up as the kettle started to sing, and went out to fill their mugs. A minute or two later, she returned, carrying the steaming containers on a small tray which she placed on the coffee table next to the package of cookies.