Eternity Base

Chapter 14

Stu Fernandez pressed the play button on the remote and showed edited scenes of Conner’s tape of Eternity Base. Conner’s recorded voice echoed through the room, five thousand miles away from where she was. Stu had cut the tape down to six minutes of what he felt were the best parts. The picture was grainy — the result of the video being digitized and converted into a format that could be read by a computer and easily transmitted.

SNN had worked to perfect the computer video-burst transmission technique because it saved sending a large video transmitter and receiver on assignments. The picture had been transmitted the same way Conner’s messages had been — encoded by a special digital recorder onto disk and then burst out over the SATCOM radio. This capability allowed SNN news teams to travel light and move farther and faster than normal teams. This method had proven its worth the previous year when dramatic pictures of the massacre of a Kurdish village in Iraq had stunned Americans who were complacent with a “victory in the desert.”

Stu knew it was a good sign that the entire six minutes ran without an interruption. The tape faded out with a picture of Conner standing in front of the nuclear power plant control console. Stu flicked on the lights and waited.

Parker was the first to speak. “Very good. I like it. Superb.”

“When do you want to run it, sir?” Stu asked.

Before Parker could answer, John Cordon, his assistant, quietly spoke. “I recommend we hold off until we have the complete story. Presently, there’s no chance another network can cut in. We have an exclusive as long as we keep it quiet. I suggest we get the entire story and then play the whole thing before anyone can react. Let’s give Ms. Young a chance to uncover all she can.

“We need to do a lot of background. Try to find out who this Glaston fellow is. We have more questions than answers, and we need to get as much information as possible before going live with this.”

Legere nodded. “I concur, sir. If we play this now, there are going to be planes from all the other networks heading down to Antarctica.”

“Conner and her people are weathered in right now, so they can’t go anywhere,” Stu added. “We can get their digital video, but as you can see, the quality is not the greatest. I’d like to have the original tapes before I put it together. Plus, if we can get Conner back here, she can do voice-overs and in-studio presentations. She also said they’ve had some problems in the party. Someone damaged their radio gear, and she wants another SATCOM team sent down.”

“We also don’t know who the dead man is,” Cordon said. “We don’t want to be broadcasting until we can get an identity on him.”

Parker stood. “I agree that there’s no rush. We need to make sure this stays confidential here in Atlanta. I want no leaks. Tell Ms. Young she can take as much time as she likes, but to be damn sure she has everything she can get before she leaves.”

“Yes, sir.” Stu smiled as the SNN executives filed out of the room. He and Conner were in the big time now.

Sammy worked the small tractor’s plow, carefully scraping away slivers of ice from the blockage. The controls were similar to those on the forklift she occasionally used in the Records Center, so she had taken charge of the tractor when they’d started it in the supply tunnel. She was enjoying the work, but she wished the corridors were large enough to bring out the bulldozer. She was sure it could punch through in no time. As it was, the small tractor was difficult to maneuver in the narrow confines of the west tunnel.

The other members of the party — minus Swenson, who was seated in the mess hall reading a book — were standing in back of her, Lallo filming and the rest watching. Riley’s jury-rigged radio, using parts from the commo room, had worked just fine, and Conner had made contact with Atlanta. Whoever smashed the radio had to be getting desperate.

Nothing more had been said about the radio or what had happened to Swenson back at Aurora Glacier Station. Sammy sensed that her sister was at a loss for what to do, and everyone else seemed equally helpless. With no obvious suspect, each member was eyeing the others with equal suspicion.

Easing down on the accelerator, Sammy pushed the corner of the plow blade into the ice. She’d been at it now for fifteen minutes and had worked through almost five feet of ice and snow. Of course, she reminded herself, they might not find anything on the other side. The ice may have crushed everything behind the cave-in.

After scraping off another six inches, she dropped the blade, drew back the debris, and piled it against the wall of unit Bl. She rolled forward again and dug in the blade. The tractor suddenly lurched, and Sammy had to slam on the brakes as the blade broke through. She backed off and shut down the engine.

Riley came forward with a flashlight and shone the light through the hole. They could see wood planking on the floor — the extension of the west corridor.

“Let’s use the shovels,” Sammy advised. “I don’t want to take too much of a chunk. For all we know, that ice is the only thing keeping the ridge from coming down farther.”

Side by side, Riley and Sammy enlarged the hole until it was big enough for a person to slip through. “After you,” Riley gestured.

Sammy slid through, followed by Conner and Devlin. Riley came last, playing his light at their feet so they wouldn’t trip. They moved up to where the north and west corridors intersected. Devlin went to the door of unit A1 and swung it open. The four stepped in. The glow of the flashlights lit up a well-equipped arms room.

“Unbelievable,” Conner muttered as they examined the weapons racks.

Riley tried the light switch on the off chance that the power might still be connected, but the power lines must have been cut when the ceiling came down. He walked along the racks, noting the weapons. Two dozen Ml6s. Four M60 machine guns. Several M79 grenade launchers. Various pistols. The sides of the unit were stacked with boxes of ammunition and other military supplies. Looking at the stencils on them, Riley noted both plastic explosive and TNT. There were also several types of mines. “Why did they need all this stuff?” Sammy asked as she picked up a pistol.

“For the same reason they built this place,” Riley answered. “The kind of mind that would plan and build Eternity Base, and kill the people who knew about it, would have to border on paranoid. This place was designed to be used after a nuclear war or something equivalent. For all these people knew, the war might still be going on when they got down here. Maybe they were worried about who was going to be in charge once the smoke and radiation cleared. The Russians had several bases already set up in Antarctica in 1971.”

Riley moved past the weapons racks. Two large crates, each about twelve feet long by three feet wide and high filled the end of the unit, one on either side of the far door. He played the light over the stenciling on the outside: MACHINED GOODS.

“What’s that?” Sammy asked.

“Don’t know,” Riley replied. He tried the lid, which didn’t yield.

“Do you think we could string power to this unit so Lallo can tape all this?” Conner was asking Devlin.

“I suppose so. Maybe we can find some extension cords and run them from Bl, through the hole and up here.”

Conner was leaning over, looking closely at an M60. “I have got to get this on film.”

Riley grabbed a bayonet off one of the shelves. Army standard issue model M9, he noted as he slid the knife free of the scabbard. He placed the point under the top of the right crate and pushed it in. Putting his body weight on it, he levered up. With a loud screech the top moved half an inch.

“What did you find?” Conner asked. She and Devlin came over and watched.

“I don’t know,” Riley grunted as he pushed again. He slid the blade around and carefully applied pressure every foot or so. Slowly the top lifted. Riley put his fingers under the lid and pulled up. The top popped off and he pushed it to the side. A slim, cylindrical gray object, pointed at one end with fins at the other, was inside, resting on a wood cradle.

“They put a fucking bomb in here?” Devlin exclaimed.

Riley bent over to examine it with a growing feeling of coldness in his stomach. He noted the suspension lugs where the bomb could be attached to an aircraft. A serial number was stamped on a small metal plate, halfway down the casing. Riley read the ID and then slowly straightened.

“That’s not just a bomb.” His words were totally flat. He was too numb to have any emotion.

“What do you mean?” Sammy asked as she looked up at him.

“That’s a nuclear bomb.”

“Bullshit.” Devlin was staring into the crate with wide eyes. “How can you know that?”

Riley felt a surge of irritation break through his shock. He pointed his flashlight at the bomb. “I was on a nuke team when I first arrived in a Special Forces Group. A nuke team’s mission is to emplace a tactical ADM — that’s atomic demolitions munition. We were supposed to infiltrate behind enemy lines, put the bomb in the right spot, arm it, and then get the hell out before it blew. That mission was phased out several years ago when they decided cruise missiles could do the job just as well with no chance of compromise.”

Riley glanced at Devlin. “I know you believe that all government workers are idiots, but we were very well trained on nuclear weapons. They take a little more brain power to properly employ than it does to shoot a gun.

“Each nuclear weapon has a special serial number — and this one has the proper designator for a nuclear weapon. If I remember correctly, this looks like an MK/B61, which is a pretty standard nuclear payload for planes.” He looked back at Devlin in the dim light cast by their flashlights. “You may know something about nuclear reactors, but I know about nuclear weapons, and that’s a goddamn nuclear weapon.”

“What about the other box?” Sammy asked.

Riley used the bayonet on that one, levering up the lid. It opened to reveal a similar bomb. Riley checked the serial number. “Another one.”

Sammy seemed mesmerized by the cold gray steel. “You said you know about nuclear weapons. Can that thing be detonated?”

Riley closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember. “There are a lot of safety devices on a nuclear weapon. We had to pass a test every three months that required us to flawlessly complete forty-three separate steps to emplace and arm our nuke.

“A standard nuclear weapon has an enable plug, a ready/safe switch, a separation-timer, pulse thermal batteries, a pulse battery actuator, a time delay switch, and a whole bunch of other things that all have to be operated correctly and in the right sequence. But if someone knows what he’s doing, and has enough time to tinker with it, I have no doubt that he could initiate it — except for one thing. You can’t even begin without—” Riley stopped and blinked.

“What one thing?” Sammy asked, finally looking up from the bomb.

Riley turned and headed out of the unit.

“Where are you going?” Conner yelled after him. When he didn’t answer, they followed.

Riley made his way directly to the mess hall. Swenson looked up as Riley stormed in and grabbed the blue binder off the counter. He thumbed through, turning to the index. He had started reading the material from the beginning but had gotten only halfway through. Now he ran his finger down the index as the others crowded around. He stopped at Emergency Procedures.

Riley rapidly flipped through the binder until he got to the appropriate section. The first page referred them to the operating manual for the reactor in the power room if there were any problems with that. The second page was about getting the tractors out of the east ice storage room using the ramps. The third page consisted of a hand written note. Riley recognized the handwriting from the note that had been taped to the outside of the binder.

Riley closed his eyes. “Oh, fuck!”

“What does that mean?” Sammy asked as she peered over his shoulder.

Riley opened his eyes and looked at her. “Let’s go out in the hallway.” He led Sammy, Conner, and Devlin out, taking the binder with him. He spoke quietly. “As I was telling you, if someone knows what he’s doing, he can get by all the safeties on those bombs but one. The first and most critical safety is the permissive access link, or PAL. That’s the code that allows you to even begin to arm the bomb. The code and bomb are never kept together for security reasons. The MK/B has a multiple-code six-digit switch with limited try followed by lockout. That means you get two shots at the right code; if you get it wrong both times, you don’t get a third shot — the bomb shuts down.”

Riley stabbed his finger down at the paper. “Except it appears that the PALs for those two bombs are here in the base.” He turned back to the index and scanned. “Here.” He turned to the page displaying a diagram of a unit. “The safe with the PAL codes and arming instructions is located in unit A2.”