Worlds in Chaos (118 page)

The first thing was to open a connection to Krossig’s group in Cairns. Yassem had kept a backup of the codes for linking to the Querl relays in a portable laptop-like device that she had taken with her to Edwards, so they were not lost. However, satellite communications were disrupted, and Gerofsky had to demand military priority before technicians established a land-line and cable connection through a Navy facility in San Francisco to Hawaii to Sydney, and from there to Cairns via the regular telecommunications system. Meanwhile, Di Milestro used his security clearances to get a line through to the Catacombs from an assistant in Sacramento who would keep him updated on developments. Cade and Luke got busy organizing contacts with wire services, news studios, military press officers, and other likely sources from Cade’s numerous acquaintances, in order to recreate as far as possible the collection center that Luodine had set up at the mission. Australia would need to move into Earth’s dark side before the link through Cairns, beaming outward toward the Querl relays, could be tested. This wouldn’t happen until the early hours of the morning, California time. The crew of the C22-E waiting out at Edwards were notified that departure was on hold for the time being.

Nyarl was the obvious one to go in Luodine’s place. Besides having the experience, he was resolved as a tribute to finish the work she had begun, in the way she would have finished it. He was already assembling further material to send. In addition to the sensational clips showing the annihilation of Varney’s carrier group, he now had—obtained via Di Milestro’s connection from Sacramento—a shot that a Marine flight had caught of the missiles actually going in at the Hyadean mission. Nyarl asked if Cade and Marie would go too—he seemed to think Cade possessed a proclivity for drawing the right people together to deal with any crisis. Yassem needed to remain in LA to guide the people setting up the link from Cairns. Who else would be flying, and who would form the rest of the base team at the Catacombs, was still to be decided.

President Jeye’s message went out at nine o’clock and was along the lines that Di Milestro had anticipated. Jeye admitted that Varney’s losses had been “more severe than we were initially led to believe” and included the admiral along with his flagship, but the full extent of the disaster remained undisclosed. But this was not a time to let one setback, however grievous, deter us from pressing home the victory that was already within grasp. The armies in Texas were moving up to leap across the Mississippi to where our Southern brothers and sisters were waiting to greet their liberators. Canada was opening a vast superhighway for supplies and reinforcements. Jeye concluded: “I don’t pretend that this will be a pleasant task. The people of New York and Boston, Atlanta and Pittsburgh are not enemies. But the regime that they have been duped and coerced into serving has become an alien power standing for alien interests. We, in the Western Federation, must defend and preserve the values that have always been America. I call on each one of you to play your part and stand firm until our AANS allies sweep through in their millions to bring this sad episode in our history to a just and honorable close. Out of it will emerge a restored United States, prouder and stronger, ready to take its place alongside the other free nations of this world as a full partner in the planetary community that we are all now, irrevocably, a part of.”

Forty minutes later, the AANS fleet steaming east-southeast from Hawaii suffered the same fate as Varney’s force. It was deployed in several squadrons spread over a greater area, however, and a number of the capital ships presumably not carrying nuclear devices escaped destruction by the induced fission explosions. They were taken out during the next half hour by bombs sent down from orbit. Some of the lesser vessels survived to scatter away across the Pacific. In retaliation, the Chinese used tactical nuclear missiles against the naval force immobilized in the Panama Canal and Gatun Lake, including Hyadean defensive positions. By midnight, Union forces in Mexico were responding in kind against bases that the Chinese airborne units had seized earlier. Meanwhile, the two remaining carrier groups in the Pacific were continuing northward, now unopposed. Guesses were that their commanders had been threatened with similar treatment to the others if they failed to carry out their missions as ordered.

An exchange of nuclear weapons, even if relatively small ones, in Central America was hardly something that could be concealed from a world wrapped in communications networks. The early hours of the morning brought fear that the escalation would spread to the Midwest and Southern battle areas, and then engulf the whole continent. Emergency plans were set in motion to evacuate local populations from the vicinities of military installations and other likely targets. Indiscriminate destruction of cities was considered improbable, however, for the same reason that nobody in Sacramento felt any great urge to wipe out populaces wholesale in Pennsylvania or New Jersey—but with an imponderable alien element, who could be too sure? As a precaution, key government and military personnel began occupying their long-prepared emergency bunkers, while public announcements called for everyone else to keep calm, stay tuned, and heed the authorities. Even so, the night saw mass exoduses from major metropolitan areas from San Francisco to Minneapolis, burning up gasoline and precipitating clashes with police bent on imposing order before general panic could set in. No doubt similar scenes were occurring between the Mississippi and the East Coast too.

Staff called in on emergency shifts began arriving in the offices of the Corry Building, many of them bringing their families through fear of being separated in the event of sudden evacuation. The Catacombs below became a scene of increasing noise and activity as more functions were staffed and brought on-line, and personnel from above came down seeking space to move into, now at a premium.

A 2:00 a.m. news bulletin brought the surprise announcement that Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Kansas, no doubt following secret negotiations, had come over to the Federation, opening the way to the Mississippi. Virtually simultaneously, Federation aircraft and ground-based missiles opened a wave of attacks against Union positions on the far side. Gerofsky guessed that secretly prepared assault units for the crossing were already moving into position, while the armies in Texas raced forward in support. It all followed the policy that Jeye had committed to: going all-out now, before the odds against success got any less. And it seemed he was getting others to go along.

Then, at 3:35, Di Milestro’s private channel from Sacramento brought the terse statement that McConnell Air Force Base near Wichita, one of the Federation’s primary bases flying combat and support operations for the central sector of the front, and the air logistics center at Tinker, southeast of Oklahoma City, had been obliterated. Not simply “attacked,” but “obliterated.” Nine minutes later, it was the turn of the bomber and missile-support base at Grand Forks, North Dakota. They were being picked by something in polar orbit. The next sweep could be north-south through California. If so, Edwards would surely be a prime target.

Cade came around from the cubicle that Di Milestro and Gerofsky were using and into the cubbyhole where Hudro and Yassem were talking to a technician in Cairns. “Hudro, get onto the plane crew out at Edwards!” Cade exclaimed. “Tell them the hold’s off. We’re on our way
now
!”

Hudro looked startled. “What’s happened?”

Vrel was nearby, looking across in alarm. Cade turned to him. “Vrel, bring the flyer here from the other building. We’re loading up.” On Vrel’s other side, Nyarl was juggling data on one of the screens. “Time to wrap up,” Cade told him. “That’s Yassem’s job now. Get the stuff sorted out now that you need to take.” And then, finally answering Hudro’s question, “We just got an answer to the air strikes. They’re wiping out our main bases.” Vrel nodded. There was no need to say anything. He hurried away. Luke finished a call he had been making. “Can you organize getting everything to be loaded up to the lobby?” Cade said to him, at the same time pulling out his phone. “See if you can get a cart from somewhere.” He tried Clara’s regular number. A voice told him calls were being switched to the answering system. He punched in Clara’s priority code. “Where are Marie and Dee?”

“I’m here,” Marie said from behind him. She had come over from the far side of the room to investigate the commotion. “Dee’s upstairs talking supplies.”

“Go find her. We’re moving now.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

Clara’s voice answered sleepily. “Tell you later. . . . Hi, Clara? It’s Roland.” Marie turned and disappeared toward the door.

“What time is it? I had to take a break.”

“Sorry, but things have changed. We’re leaving right away. Chester will give you the whole story. Briefly, they’ve started zapping air bases, and I don’t want to wait for Edwards to be next. I guess you’ll be the one keeping an eye on things at this end. We need to agreee who else you need to stay on here.”

“Well, Luke, I guess. . . .” Clara and Luke had known each other for years. She was still having trouble surfacing.

“Yassem, we already decided,” Cade said.

“Does that mean Hudro will be staying too?”

“I don’t think we can let him. Neither of them knows anything about LA or anyone here. I’d rather it be Vrel. Besides, we’ll need an on-board expert in Hyadean technical and military matters. That can only be Hudro. Dee can stay with Vrel.”

“Fine.” Clara sounded more herself now. “Do you want me to come over there? It would take me about thirty minutes.”

“No, get some rest. We’ll be in touch.”

“Then . . . good luck. You take care, Roland. Of yourself and those others. Bring them all back in one piece.”

“You too. ’Bye.”

As Cade repocketed his phone, he realized that Gerofsky had joined him and had been listening. For a moment, the major seemed to have difficulty finding words. “Look, Cade . . . You were right, and we were wrong. I’d like to do more to help. Chester has to stay here as the contact man with Sacramento. But you don’t know what you’ll run into out there. You’re going to need someone along who can deal with military people and situations. . . . Well, what I’m saying is . . .”

Cade managed a tired grin. “It’s okay. You don’t have to spell it out. And the answer’s ‘sure.’ Welcome to the team.”

It was a little after 4:15 a.m. when the flyer finally rose from the city and headed east of north for Palmdale. The night was clear with no moon. From above Pasadena, trains of lights showed on the darkened roads below, all heading northward to the desert. En route, Nyarl checked with the Catacombs. Yassem reported that the link from Cairns was sending, but so far there had been no response from the Querl. President Jeye wasn’t backing down. The Federation had just launched IRBMs at Union air bases in Alabama and Ohio. Nobody aboard the flyer had much else to say.

Radio traffic indicated that flight operations were busy at Edwards. Ignoring ground control procedures, Hudro brought the flyer skimming in low over the perimeter fence to land at the hangars at the north end where the C22-E was waiting. The transfer of bodies, equipment, and bags still in the flyer from Cade’s house that morning took place swiftly against a background of engine roars and black shapes lifting off into the night. The captain, Bob Powell, told them that operational aircraft were being dispersed to other fields and landing strips, with supply transports loading to follow later. He obviously didn’t know about recent events and assumed it was a standard precaution. While they were stowing gear, Powell introduced Cade, Marie, and Gerofsky to his copilot, Lieutenant Koyne, and Technical Sergeant Davis, an aircraft engines and systems specialist. Nyarl and Hudro had met them previously.

“C22 Six Five Zero to Edwards control, we’re ready to move out now and request immediate clearance,” Powell said into his mike. As they ran up the engines, Koyne spotted lights approaching along the perimeter road and pointed. “Probably someone coming to check what came in over the fence,” Powell grunted.

“We don’t want to get bogged down now. Just pretend we haven’t seen them,” Cade said from behind.

Powell’s face creased in the glow from the instrument panel. “Ground Control is gonna be sticky with all this traffic going out. I wouldn’t want to upset them right now.” He listened to something for a few seconds, then spoke into the mike again. “When? . . . We didn’t see anything. . . . No, nothing to do with us. . . . Roger.”

Meanwhile Nyarl, using headphones, was keeping contact with the Catacombs. He interrupted suddenly, “I’m talking to Chester. What’s Travis?”

“I read you,” Powell sang in the captain’s seat. “Moving out now. How long is this queue gonna last?”

Koyne answered Nyarl, “Big air base up near San Francisco. Main transportation center for Pacific supply routes. Why?”

“It just got taken out.”

“Never mind the queue! Get us out of here!” Cade snapped at Powell.

“You’re talking court-martial offense here.”

“Right now, that’s the least of your worries.”

“You’d better be sure about this.” Powell sucked in a long breath, gunned the engines, and jerked the control column to take the plane around the shapes outlined ahead in the starlight, and across a connecting ramp to a shorter, auxiliary runway. Even from where he was sitting, Cade could hear indignant squawking in Powell’s phones. Ahead, what looked like a bomber was turning to join the line lumbering toward the run-up point on the main runway. Another was waiting to mover forward. At the end of the base, several miles away in the other direction, a slim finger of peculiar violet radiance appeared suddenly, seemingly coming down from among the stars. Nyarl stared at it, speechless with sudden terror.

“
Captain, go! Go now!
” Hudro shouted.

His fear communicated itself. Powell opened the throttle, and the plane surged forward, even as the bomber began rolling onto the runway ahead. They squeezed through the gap accelerating flat-out. The runway seemed to flow by endlessly. Cade looked back and saw the beam of violet shift, as if registering. Nyarl seemed mesmerized by it. Finally, the plane lifted, banked, and turned away.