The men stopped moving, and stared at him.
They waited a full seven minutes, and then Watt turned to the frightened young tech standing next to him. “Reactivate the portal.”
The tech took a step forward, was not yet in reach of the console when the portal opened up with a flash of red and blue.
A lifter came out of the portal, bearing a single crate.
At first sight of the crate, Watt glanced back at his colleagues in shock and surprise.
His colleagues were not there.
He looked back; saw two men pushing the lifter.
Heat seared Watt’s forehead when he recognized one of them.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THROUGH THE PORTAL
Eric hit the floor in a crouch. Gone was the scientist, analyst, the gentle soul saddened by a lost love. All of it was swallowed up by something dark and purposeful and deadly within him. His heart was hammering hard and the fire of adrenalin burned in every vein in his body. He pushed himself back against a wall to survey the action, looking for a focus, and at first he wasn’t seen.
The men who came out of the portal with crates that had set off the alarms had been caught in a terrible crossfire by Alan’s hidden marines and also invisible sources all around the room. Most of them had gone down, some on one knee, firing wildly. Men pushing powered lifters had been shielded from the initial fire, but were now dropping one by one. Lifters roamed randomly around the bay without guidance, though one had been steered to a wall to Eric’s right and parked there deliberately.
All firing was wild, and target identification treacherous. The invaders were dressed like marines, but the material of their uniforms seemed lighter or more highly reflective, even in the dim light, and they wore darkened faceplates. Eric focused on the faceplates, went to a kneeling position and squeezed off two rounds with his M-16. Two men dropped where they stood, face plates shattered. Another man closer to him turned and charged, firing a burst from his stubby, black weapon. Eric calmly fired twice as bullets smashed into concrete and metal above his head. The man pitched forward and slid on the floor, coming to rest a yard from Eric’s position. His faceplate was ripped away and with it something white and shredded to pieces by sharp polymer. His cheek was against the floor, eyes yellow and open, staring accusingly at his killer. The face was brown, with scales like a large fish, and the open mouth showed a row of fierce-looking needle teeth.
What the hell?, thought Eric, but at that instant a horrible wave of fire came from the portal, and nobody was there to be seen. Bullets splattered all around him and he saw marines go down. Flashes of fire were coming from the area just in front of the portal, flashes out of clear air. There was a roar of fire from the marines to his right. Eric flipped the lever on his M-16 to auto and emptied a magazine, swinging the barrel back and forth to cover the space in front of the portal.
Bullets seemed to explode in midair, and men shimmered into view, staggering, and falling to the floor. Flashes of fire continued to spew forth from the air around them. Illusion or technology, but there were invading soldiers there, invisible to the naked eye, and it seemed that Alan’s marines were seeing them while Eric could only shoot at fire flashes. Eric emptied another magazine before more men appeared out of nowhere to fall dead on the floor. The fire flashes stopped near the portal, but there were several shots from Alan’s marines before an order was screamed and there were other sounds in the bay.
People were yelling and milling around. Several men had attacked three of the crates with pry bars and were vigorously dismantling them. Alan Nutt was screaming at the top of his voice, “Find the timer! Check all the bodies! Move!”
Eric stepped up to a marine who was rolling a corpse over with his foot. “What are we looking for?”
The marine showed him the palm of his hand. “About this size. Should have big numbers—like a clock.”
Wood splintered under the prying of crowbars. Men were racing from body to body.
Suddenly the portal flashed brightly, went to red, and was gone.
“What happened?” shouted Alan, and he looked up at the control booth. The men there just shook their heads.
“I want that timer!” screamed Alan.
Two of the three crates of interest fell apart simultaneously, revealing a metallic cylinder hanging from a frame in each. “Four minutes!” yelled someone. “Four here!” yelled another. Two men were now hunched over each cylinder, working furiously.
Eric was going through the pockets of a dead man when the third crate fell apart, but the sound that startled him was a shout from a marine only steps away who got up from a dead invader and held something up in his hand. “Got it!” he yelled. “Two minutes-ten!”
Alan grabbed the thing away from him, saw Eric and glared angrily at him. “Two minutes, people, that’s what you have!”
“Two minutes to oblivion was Eric’s guess. The cylinders were the right size for missile warheads with medium to high yields. The portal had sensed their radiation. There would be no pain for Eric, no time for it during the nanoseconds of ionization, but the people in town wouldn’t be so lucky. Even all the dense rock above the portal bay would not contain three high yield explosions. And Eric was helpless to do anything about it.
Others were not.
A pair of marines worked on each cylinder with focus and determination. Their lack of hesitation made Eric think they were familiar with the devices they worked on. He counted seconds, was down to a minute-twenty when he stepped over the body of the man the timer had been taken from. The marine who’d taken it was still there. Eric looked down; saw yellow eyes, crinkled, scaly skin and sharp teeth. He pointed to the body, and asked, “Who are these guys?”
“Dead snakes,” growled the marine, and then added, “The best kind.”
One minute.
Eric took another step towards the growing crowd around one cylinder. Alan was there. Eric heard him say, “No time for caution, just jerk it out of there,” and then there was a shout from the men around him.
“Got it! Clear!”
“Clear!” came another shout from across the room.
Men were still working on the third cylinder. “Almost there,” yelled someone.
“Twenty seconds,” called Alan.
A platoon of marines stood grim-faced where they were. Not one man flinched, but there were audible gasps when the call came.
“Clear!” A man held up something that looked like a pencil with a ring on the end of it.
There was nervous laughter from all over the bay. “Twelve seconds, gentlemen. Good job,” said Alan. “Now, I want this one rearmed and the timer programmed for ten seconds on activation. Nail a few boards around that thing. We’re gonna give ’em a taste of their own slime if we can ever get that damn address. Don’t we have it yet?” Alan was looking up at the control booth again and waving a hand. A kid in the booth gave him a thumb’s up.
“We’re going to push this thing back through the portal and light up their day. An extra push will help. I need a volunteer.”
Hands went up, but Eric hesitated. A ten second delay on a nuclear explosion, and they were going to push it into a tunnel? Maybe twenty miles in, and the bay would be safe, but how did they expect to get out in ten seconds?
While Eric was thinking, Alan chose a marine, and talked to the man while several marines were crudely hammering together a crate around the rearmed device. Alan had the timer in his hand, was explaining something to his volunteer. Eric was wondering how much extra thrust one man could give to a powered lifter when it was suddenly apparent to him that two men were doing the job and Alan himself was the second man.
Commanders didn’t go on suicide missions. That was too stupid for any military unit in the field, so what fact was Eric missing?
The crate was picked up on a lifter, turned sedately and headed towards the portal, which suddenly flickered and flashed on. Alan operated the controls, had the timer in one hand, and leaned a shoulder against
the machine like his volunteer was doing.
“Good luck, sir!” shouted someone, and several marines saluted as Alan passed by them. The lifter accelerated, now within twenty yards of the portal.
Suddenly there was gunfire; two repeating flashes of fire came out of clear air from the left side of the portal. Alan cried out in pain, and his marine volunteer went down flat on his face.
The return fire was terrible, a hundred guns focused on one small area. Two figures shimmered into view by the portal, orange fluid gushing from their heads and bodies as they collapsed to the floor.
Alan clutched his free shoulder and pushed hard on the slowing lifter.
Well, screw this, thought Eric. He dropped his rifle and sprinted the few steps to the lifter, slamming a shoulder so hard against it that Alan nearly fell away.
“You again. Just can’t stay out of it,” grunted Alan.
“You hurt bad?” asked Eric.
“Shut up for once, and push.”
“How far?”
“A few yards now.”
The rippling blue surface was close. Eric dug in his heels and pushed harder. There was a buzzing sound like static, and then a pull and a brief sensation of cold and blackness as the shimmering surface swallowed them—
And spit them out into a room with bright lights at the ceiling and a balcony on which three men stood, two of them young, the other older and quite familiar.
John Coulter saw him, and his mouth opened in an ‘O’. He looked behind him, and then lunged towards an instrument panel on the balcony.
Alan pressed something on the timer, and slid it on the floor into a corner of the room as Eric jerked the long-slide Colt from its holster and snapped off a shot at Coulter.
The bullet struck Coulter in the throat. He made a gurgling sound and clutched at his throat with both hands.
Eric aimed carefully and shot the man in the chest. Coulter toppled against a railing and went down on his knees, coughing blood.
“Come on!” Alan pulled Eric back by the shoulders, and there was a sensation of cold and blackness.
They fell onto the concrete floor of a dimly lit bay filled with marines, and behind them the face of the portal went from blue to red, and was gone.
Alan lay on his side, gripped a shoulder sleeve now soaked in blood, and smiled weakly. “Got the bastard,” he said, and passed out.
“Medic!” screamed Eric, and several men arrived to help their wounded commander.
* * * * * * *
Outside of the portal bay only a handful of people knew what had happened until after it was over. The only indication of anything unusual had been the automatic lockdown of the bay. Davis had been in touch with the control room when the smoke cleared, and by the time Eric got to Sparrow’s bay efforts were already underway to return Sparrow for flight. Dillon was there, and so was Davis, and a flatcar loaded with crated equipment was rolling into the bay on tracks.
“Well it’s good to see you didn’t get your ass shot off,” said Davis. Eric guessed he was trying to be funny, but it wasn’t.
“We lost a bunch of marines in there, Colonel.”
“We didn’t lose anyone. Foreign troops on the base weren’t my idea, Price, but I guess it’s good we had them here. I hear Nutt was wounded.”
“Shoulder. The bullet went through. They said I could see him later this afternoon. He’s the commander of that marine unit, Colonel.”
“I know. Right in the middle of it. I guess I envy him. At least he has a command. Well, damn it, so do I. Sparrow will be back in this bay by dinnertime, and you have a flight test in two days. No more delays. Will you be ready for it?”
“Absolutely,” said Eric.
“Good. Dillon has two copies of a briefing delivered personally by Brown. Get it from him. I’m going back to the office.”
Davis suddenly smiled, and held out his hand. “I really am glad to see you alive, Price. Glad you could help shoot up some bad guys for us.”
Eric shook the man’s hand, and Davis walked away. Eric was left with the distinct impression that Davis hadn’t heard the whole story yet, including Eric and Alan’s dive through the portal.
He found Dillon by the flatcar, and the man knew even less. “Haul it out, haul it back in. False alarm, I guess. Davis says we have a definite go in two days, and this time I believe it. That guy Brown delivered these to me personally just a few minutes ago. One copy is for you.”
He handed Eric a thin, loose-leaf notebook. “Got time for coffee?”
“Sure,” said Eric.
They made the walk to Mess. Halfway there, Dillon asked, “That’s a marine field uniform you’re wearing. How come? You’re not military.”
“Davis wanted me to look like everyone else when he thought an attack was coming.”
“And it didn’t?”
“Well—”
“Don’t worry about it. I just wonder why you smell like a gunnery range. Need to know is the rule, and my job is to fly Sparrow, so don’t tell me anything.”
Dillon had coffee. Eric was ravenous and had a chopped steak topped with two eggs. For a few minutes they ate silently while Eric leafed through the notebook.
“Looks like we’ll be robots again,” said Dillon. “The whole flight is programmed once we reach space. All you do is throw a switch or two.”
“What’s N-space?” asked Eric.
“Never heard of it until now.”
“Says here our turnaround is N-space/Ariel sector 3.”
Dillon just shrugged his shoulders. “Like they told us last time, I guess. Just sit there and enjoy the ride.”
Maybe Alan can give me a clue, thought Eric. After the meal, Dillon went back to watch over the transfer of Sparrow. Eric got his kit, took a shower, and changed back into civvies. He asked for directions, and took an elevator up three levels to where he’d been told sickbay was located. He asked the corporal at the reception desk if he might be able to see Sergeant Alan Nutt, a patient there.
The corporal checked a card tacked up at a corner of the desk. “Sergeant Nutt is in room twelve, sir, but if you’re Doctor Price you’re supposed to go to room five first. Can I see some I.D.?”
Eric showed it to him. The corporal came around the desk and led him down the hall to room five. “In here, sir.”
The room was dark. There were two beds, and one was empty. A man lay in the other bed, back turned to Eric.
“Excuse me? I’m Eric Price. I was told to come to this room. There might be a mistake.”
The man rolled over. “No mistake, dear. You’re invited.”
Eric’s heart thumped hard twice at the sound of the man’s voice.
“Leon?”
“Back again. Don’t turn on the light. Something in my meds is making me sensitive to it. Get over here. I heard what happened. Let’s see if you still have all your parts.”
Eric grabbed a chair, pulled it to the bed and sat down. Leon stuck out a hand and grinned at him. Eric grasped the hand softly in his, and held on. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I really thought you were dead.”
“Nearly was, I guess. They had to pump me full of blood, and the surgeons did the rest. I’m amazing.”
“I didn’t realize they had that kind of capability here.”
“They don’t. I just got here. Weird trip, I was all doped up. One second I’m looking up at bright lights in a hospital and the next second it’s dim lights from the ceiling of a rock cavern. I’m in the base, right?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t treated here. It was a huge hospital, everything in soft green, and the most gorgeous nurses I’ve ever seen. Not all of them women, by the way. Brought out the naughty in me once I was feeling better. I know I was shot several times, but they had me walking by the third day. They say I won’t even have scars.”
“Medicine has come a long ways,” said Eric.
“In a hurry. Say, a sergeant Nutt is being treated here, and told me about your little firefight. You o
kay?”
“Not a scratch. They tried to destroy the base with a nuclear weapon, but we were ready for them. There were no survivors on their side.”
“Yikes. That’s not good for intel.”
“We know who was behind it, Leon. It was John Coulter. I shot him twice, and he was spitting blood when we blew him up.”
“Good riddance. So now it’s over?”
“All over. The final flight test is in two days, and then you and I can go home.”
Let’s keep the money Coulter gave us, and celebrate.”
“We’ll have to ask the bosses about that, Leon.”
“You’re just being difficult again.” Leon smiled, then, “How’s Nataly?”
“We had a fight. She was a plant for the guys who gave us Sparrow. She fed the information to me that I thought came from dreams. The rest was a sham.”
“I don’t believe it. Did she admit to that?”
“No. She insists she loves me, but it’s only part of the lie.”
“Oh how I wish I had your psychic and mind reading abilities,” said Leon. “You’ve never lied to anyone, of course. It’s good to see you alive, Eric, but I still think you can be such a prick.”
Eric laughed. “I love you too, Leon.”
Leon put a hand to his chest. “Oh, I believe my heart just fluttered. Do yourself a favor. Make up with Nataly and marry her. The clandestine world of government secrets will be safer without you.”
“Maybe,” said Eric, and stood up. “I want to see Sergeant Nutt before I get out of here. I’ll come back again to irritate you.”
“I’m out of here in three days,” said Leon, and squeezed Eric’s hand. “Give Nataly a kiss for me.”
Leon frowned at him when Eric smiled in silence.
Alan Nutt’s room was a few doors down the hall, and Eric knocked on the doorjamb before entering. Alan was propped up on two pillows, writing something on his clipboard. His left arm was held rigidly against his body in a sling.
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