Area 51: Excalibur-6 (14 page)

"Positive scan on both targets," another sailor responded.

Lockhart waited. "Report," she finally ordered when he didn't say anything further. *

"Uh—ma'am, both have the same ID tag. The Springfield. But—" he paused, then blurted out—"the Springfield can't move that fast. And how can there be two?"

Captain Lockhart's face was hard as she picked up the hot line that connected her to fleet headquarters.

AREA 51

Feeling had been returning to Mike Turcotte's body for the past hour, from his extremities inward. He'd already tried getting to his feet a dozen times to no avail. He reached up and grasped the edge of the table and tried once more. He managed to pull himself up so that he was leaning against the table.

He felt hungover, his head pounding, his body unsteady. He looked about the examining room. A clipboard was next to the sink and he went over to it.

Flipping it open, he noted several medical forms—results of tests the doctor must have run, along with two pages of notes in handwriting he could hardly read. There were also several X rays clipped to it. Turcotte ripped the papers and X rays out of the clipboard and shoved them in the cargo pocket of his pants.

He went to the door, carefully opening it, and peering

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outside. As expected, no one was about. He moved as quickly as his pounding head would allow to the outside exit. He shoved open the steel door. It was night, a cool breeze blowing in from the surrounding desert.

A full moon had just risen above Groom Mountain and he could see relatively clearly. He saw the massive hangar doors set into the side of the mountain.

Turcotte walked over and entered the hangar. A bouncer was missing and he felt a moment's relief, knowing the others had most likely escaped, then he saw the dark form lying still on the concrete floor. Not wanting to, he forced himself to go over. A pool of blood had spread out beneath the body.

Turcotte ignored the blood as he knelt and turned the slight figure over, knowing who it was before he saw her face. He scooped Che Lu in his arms and walked out of the hangar, across the runway, and into the desert.

EASTER ISLAND

Aspasia's Shadow slowly sat up and looked about the guardian chamber. The golden glow from the guardian bathed the entire area with its light. Six motionless Marines stood guard in the shadows near the tunnel. He lifted his arm and put his new hand in front of his face. He flexed his fingers, stretching the new skin.

He laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. He reached up and removed the ka from around his neck. He would never need it again. Millennia of dying and being reborn were over. He was immortal and this body would be his forever. The Grail, the carrot that the Airlia had held in front of humans from the very beginning, was his to do with as he willed.

He went to the guardian and made contact, checking the status of his forces. All was progressing well with the fleet. And there was an acknowledgment from his man in Iran, in-

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dicating preparations were going forth to seize the second mothership and Master Guardian. His team heading toward Everest was on schedule.

Perfect. It was time to let the humans know their options. He went to the tables holding the equipment that had been abandoned by the United Nations when they evacuated the island. He turned on a computer that had direct satellite contact with the UN.

AREA 51

Turcotte rode the elevator into the underground bunkers. His fatigue shirt was soaked with sweat and his hands covered with sand that had stuck to the perspiration. Dried blood encrusted the lower part of his pants.

A few lights were still working, flickering, showing the destruction that had been wreaked. The silence was unsettling. As he expected, the place was abandoned and Turcotte quickly retraced his steps to the surface.

Turcotte went to the runway tower and broke into the supply area. He grabbed a survival vest, checked the small radio to make sure it was working, ensured his SATPhone was still in his pocket, loaded up on a half dozen full canteens, then left Area 51 and headed out into the desert.

UNITED NATIONS

The men and women chosen for UN Alien Oversight Committee (UNAOC) had done little in the last several months other than observe. This was not because they lacked the will, but more that they lacked the knowledge of what was really going on in order to make a coherent decision. Added to that indecision was worry over the infiltration of their governments and the influences of Guides, Ones Who Wait, and

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the various human contingents that proclaimed one side or the other of the Airlia civil war to be the one to support.

While every member country of the United Nations had signed an agreement to abide by the decisions of the committee, the reality was that, as had been true for the history of the United Nations, countries only followed the agreement when it suited their interests.

Every country was supposed to surrender any alien artifacts they had in their possession to the UNAOC. So far, not a single item had been turned over. A large row had already erupted over the refusal of the Israelis to release artifacts, including the Ark, that they had taken from the Mission inside Mount Sinai.

Additionally, the militaries of all countries were ordered to coordinate with the UNAOC security panel. A few token phone calls had been made, but not a single troop, plane, or ship had been placed under UN command. All eyes were on the Pacific and the surviving American fleet there.

Given that the previous head of UNAOC had been assassinated by a Guide, the committee members not only felt powerless, they also felt threatened.

As they gathered at the conference table to listen to Aspasia's Shadow's message, the absence of the Chinese member was noted.

The screen on the laptop in front of each UNAOC member came alive with Aspasia's Shadow's pale face. He wasted no time on pleasantries.

"You have called me Al-Iblis. You humans have called me many names over the millennia in many places. I am Aspasia's Shadow, but I am more than he ever was.

You killed him and stopped his space fleet, but you cannot stop me. You can only join me and reap the benefits I offer. Despite your transgressions I will forgive you. I am going to tell you the truth so that you know the reality of your tenuous situation.

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"I possess the Grail. It holds the secret of immortality. I offer that to those who join me. I offer the might of my fleet and my other forces to those who join me. You know you cannot penetrate my shields or defend against my nanovirus or my Guides. You are powerless. Report back to your governments. Tell them to face the truth.

"You have a choice now. Join me or fight me or stand aside. But realize that your time is short. And Artad is awake. He has already contacted the mainland Chinese government. They have chosen to side with him. They will die because of that decision.

"Artad cares nothing for humans. His Shadow created the Black Death in the Middle Ages and almost wiped you off the face of the planet. Only I was able to stop it and save you as only I can save you from him now."

There was a pause, then Aspasia's Shadow continued. "And there is something else you must know. Something that Artad will not tell you. The reason why the Airlia came here to your planet so many years ago."

There was absolute silence in the hall now as everyone unconsciously leaned forward to hear what was about to be said.

"They—we—came here to protect you," Aspasia's Shadow said. "You humans are like newborns when it comes to the larger reality of the universe. There are many species among the stars. And some of them hate any life-form not their own. In this galaxy, there is a life-form we call the Swarm. They are a race of parasites unlike anything you could imagine in your worst nightmares. They were, are, the Airlia's Ancient Enemy."

Aspasia's Shadow grimaced as if remembering something particularly bothersome.

"The Swarm have conquered many planets, destroyed many species, and long ago we came into contact with them. Even we don't know where their home world is. Some have said they have no home

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anymore, but just expand outward, consuming intelligent life wherever they find it. There is no communicating with them or negotiating. They exist to destroy."

Aspasia's Shadow pointed down. "They have been here, humans. On your planet.

Scouts. I have protected you, destroyed their scout ship, and prevented them from communicating back to let their fleet know of your planet. If their fleet comes here, not even the Airlia can protect you.

'Their scouts can infiltrate any intelligent species, become part of them so that no one knows they are there. And when their fleet arrives, they destroy every living thing, consuming it so that their own forms can go on.

"Aspasia's mission was to protect you and help you. And he did so for many years. Your people were in caves when he arrived. He built Atlantis, brought civilization to humanity. It was a golden time.

"But then Artad came along with others—all cowards and deserters from the war against the Swarm. They wanted to hide here, to cut us off from our home system.

There was civil war and then there was a truce. But still Aspasia stayed nearby to help defend you and you thanked him by destroying him.

"I am taking his place. I will continue to help defend your planet but you must join with me. It is in both our best interests to work together.

"Fight me and die.

"Stand aside and eventually you will be mine anyway and I will remember your lack of commitment.

"Join me and reap the benefits and be protected."

The screen went dead.

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

The South Korean president's hand shook as he took a sip of tea. The conference room was dark and slides appeared on

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the far wall, one after another, without a single comment from the American officer waiting close by.

General Carmody was the Eighth Army commander, the senior American officer in South Korea. The images he was showing President Pak had just been given to him by his G-2, intelligence officer. They were from a KH-14 Keyhole spy satellite that was on permanent station over the Korean peninsula. They showed something that hadn't happened in almost fifty years: Chinese troops crossing the Yalu River into North Korea and heading south. Tanks, armored personnel carriers, and thousand upon thousands of infantry were on the move. All heading south. Then the locations of the photos changed. Pak recognized the DMZ. There was no mistaking the fact that North Korean forces were mobilizing.

Finally, the last shot was displayed and Carmody turned the lights back on. They were the only two people in the room. The general sat down across from Pak. "We estimate at least two corps of Chinese troops have already entered North Korea with another three corps to follow on. Over a half million men."

"And the Seventh Fleet?" Pak asked. For decades South Korea had lain under the umbrella of protection provided by America's military. While most of the world had forgotten that the Korean War had never officially ended, it was never far from the minds of the people who inhabited the southern half of the peninsula.

"The Seventh is"—Carmody seemed to search for a nice way to put it, then he simply shrugged—"gone. We're abandoning Hawaii. That tells you where things stand."

Pak had already known that from his spy network. "So? What now, General? You have reduced your troop strength in my country to the point where your presence is merely a trip wire. Several thousand Americans whose death would be avenged.

But there is no avenging force now."

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An aide entered the room and handed a piece of paper to the president before withdrawing. Pak read it. "The UN has been issued an ultimatum by Aspasia's Shadow from Easter Island. Join him or fight him."

"What will the UN do?" Carmody asked.

"A vote is scheduled." Pak laughed bitterly. "In two days' time. Much too late for us."

"Aspasia's Shadow can't help us here," Carmody said.

Pak crumpled the paper and tossed it in the wastebasket. "Evil is evil and I believe these aliens are evil, whatever face they present."

"There is one possible course of action," Carmody said.

"And that is?"

"Tactical nuclear weapons. A preemptive strike into North Korea. Along the axes of advance."

Pak stared at the general. "Your government would authorize that?"

"I doubt it."

"Then why do you bring it up?" Pak asked. Carmody had been Eighth Army commander for two years. He was unique in that he was half-Korean, his father an American soldier, his mother a Korean his father had married during a tour of duty in the country. Carmody had grown up in the United States, attended West Point, and served all over the world, before returning to his mother's country to command his father's forces there.

"My government..." Carmody paused, searching for words. "Let me put it to you plainly, Mister President. There is great concern among my fellow officers about the integrity of my government. About how much the aliens and their followers have compromised the chain of command. This vote—I don't know how the United States will vote, but I agree with you that these aliens are evil. The Chinese have allied with Artad and I see nothing good coming out of that."

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He paused, then continued. "I do not think that South Korea is very high on anyone's priority list in Washington right now."

"Detonating nuclear weapons against another nuclear power would be on Washington's priority list," Pak said.

"That's true," Carmody acknowledged. "But, Mister President, I think—" He was interrupted by a loud buzz that caused both men to start.

"It is the line to the North Korean president that we established last year. It has never rung before." Pak turned his chair and picked up a red phone, putting the receiver against his ear. Carmody got up and went to the far side of the room out of earshot and waited. When he heard Pak hang up he went back to his chair.

"The North Koreans are making an offer. They have allied with China, who have allied with Artad. We have the choice of joining them or dying. It seems our vote is here now."