In the South Atlantic a U.S. Navy carrier task force headed by the supercarrier USS John C. Stennis was steaming due south toward Antarctica at flank speed. They had the location of Scorpion Base plotted, and the operations officer was busy figuring when would be the earliest the ship would be in range to launch aircraft to make it to that location and back.
In the other major ocean, the U.S. Navy was deploying its Pacific Fleet in two areas: half heading toward Easter Island, the other half heading for the spot in the ocean under which lay the foo fighter base.
Just above the foo fighter base the crew of the Greywolf huddled together, trying to draw warmth from each other’s bodies. They were still slowly descending, but after knowing what had happened to the Pasadena there were no more complaints from Emory.
Three thousand meters above the submersible, the two surviving Los Angeles-class submarines also waited, running silent and powered down, biding their time, the crews full of thoughts of revenge but without a clue as to how to wreak that revenge without suffering the same fate as their sister ship.
CHAPTER 35
“We’re not going to be able to hang around here much longer,” Harker muttered, looking about the countryside. They’d spotted some Chinese helicopters to the south earlier in the morning, but so far their position remained undiscovered.
Turcotte could sense the pessimism and unease in the Special Forces men he was marooned with. They wanted to start moving, get out of the area of the crash, and make for the nearest border. The fact that the nearest border was over a thousand miles away and with Mongolia didn’t faze them much. They just wanted to do something, rather than wait for the Chinese to show up.
But Turcotte knew their only chance to get out in time was to hope that the high rune symbol he’d put around the nearby crash site using wreckage would be picked up by a satellite and that Lisa Duncan would figure it out. Of course, he wasn’t too sure how she was going to get them out, but he figured anything was better than trying to walk out.
“What the hell?” O’Callaghan said, standing up and staring to the east.
Turcotte spotted what the chief was looking at: a bouncer coming in fast and low. The disk raced up to their position and halted. It slowly came down until it was resting on top of the wreckage of the Black Hawk. The Special Forces men raised their weapons and aimed.
“Hold your fire,” Turcotte ordered.
The hatch in top opened and a woman stuck her head out. “Hurry up!” she yelled.
Turcotte didn’t need a second invitation. He ran toward the bouncer, followed by Harker, O’Callaghan, and the other Special Force soldiers. He scrambled up the sloping deck and then down inside.
An Air Force pilot was strapped into one of the two depressions in the center floor, his hands on the controls. The woman who had called out to them was standing off to one side near the communications console that had been put in. She immediately reminded Turcotte of Zandra — in fact, for a second he thought it was her, but then he noted that she was a couple of inches shorter than the agent they had left behind in South Korea.
“Whoa!” O’Callaghan said as he dropped down next to Turcotte. Being inside a bouncer took a lot of getting used to. The hardest thing was the disorienting effect of the skin of the craft appearing to be transparent from the inside. Majestic had never quite figured out how the Airlia technology did that, but it was difficult to remain calm as, now that all were on board, the bouncer lifted, the ground seeming to move away under their feet.
“I am Oleisa,” the woman said.
“Are you with Aspasia or Artad?” Turcotte asked.
The woman had a blank look on her face. “I’m with STAAR. I’m here to take you to Zandra in Korea.”
Turcotte shook his head. “I need to get to the Rift Valley in Africa.” The pilot looked up from his seat.
“Osan Air Force Base,” Oleisa said. The pilot returned his attention to flying.
“Listen—” Turcotte began, but the woman raised a hand.
“We will go to Africa after we pick up Zandra. It will not take long.” “What about the foo fighters?” Turcotte asked.
“They haven’t picked us up yet,” Oleisa said.
“And if they do?”
“We’ll deal with that if it happens.”
Lisa Duncan was surprised when Mike Turcotte wrapped her in a big hug as she climbed down inside the bouncer that was now parked on the runway at Osan Air Force Base. The entire area was surrounded by flashing lights as the air police blocked it off.
“Thank you” was all Turcotte said, before turning away for a moment to collect himself. The stress of the last couple of days — all the losses, all the emotions he had kept at bay while trying to keep his mind focused on the mission — was finally breaking through.
Zandra had also come on board, the Special Forces men and helicopter pilot debarking prior to her getting on board, leaving the pilot, Turcotte, Duncan, Zandra, and Oleisa as the only passengers.
“We have to leave now,” Zandra said, sealing the hatch.
Turcotte turned back. “The Rift Valley?”
Zandra nodded. “Do you know how to release the ruby sphere?”
“Nabinger told me,” Turcotte confirmed.
“Good.”
“How come you don’t know?” Turcotte asked as the bouncer took off and the pilot accelerated to the southwest.
“What do you mean?” Zandra asked.
“You work for the Airlia. You’re part of them. How come you don’t know? Hell, for all we know, you’re Airlia yourself.”
“I’m not Airlia nor do I work for them,” Zandra said. “I work for the human race.”
“I thought you worked for STAAR?” Turcotte pressed.
“Yes, I do.”
“And it is?” Duncan asked.
“Strategic Tactical Advanced Alien Response team,” Zandra said. “When Majestic discovered the mothership and bouncers, President Eisenhower knew that Earth had been visited by aliens. It seemed perfectly logical for the government to consider what would happen if Earth made live contact with an alien life-form.
“A committee was formed of the leading experts at that time, including psychologists, military, scientists, sociologists; anyone who might be able to contribute was invited. They sat and brain-stormed for several weeks, then issued what they simply considered an academic and theoretical recommendation for a hypothetical situation: that a secret government organization be formed to be in place to deal with live first contact.”
Zandra paused, those in the bouncer hanging on every word, as they flew over the South Pacific, heading south before they would turn east toward Africa.
She continued. “One of the most important stipulations of the report was that the organization, which was named STAAR, have the highest possible security clearance and have an authorization code to be able to take action when necessary without having to go through administrative channels. It was felt that time would be of the essence in case of live contact and STAAR, since it was dedicated to the mission, would be in the best position to decide on a response.”
“That’s circumventing the democratic process and our elected leaders,” Lisa Duncan said.
“It was felt to be necessary by the elected leader at the time,” Zandra replied. “The idea is quite logical if you think about it. Rather than divert a large amount of resources, and thus a large amount of scrutiny, to STAAR, Eisenhower simply gave it the authority to use resources that already existed, whether they be military or CIA or NSA or anything else, to gather intelligence and, when the time came, to take action.”