“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.”