Project Aura

15

Captain Lonsky was actually not overly surprised the Gagarin had been sold. The previous year, Moscow had rented it out to an American movie company making a science fiction film, and before and after that they had done monitoring missions for other countries and corporations when the price was right. Lonsky had been a crew member aboard the ship during the Cold War and remembered how they had always been shadowed by American submarines, planes, and ships doing counterintelligence missions against them. Things were very different now. For all he knew, the Americans were the buyers.

“A message from our new owners,” Zenata said, holding several sheets of paper in her hand.

Captain Lonsky took the message and read through. He turned to the bridge crew and barked out orders. “Shut down the thrusters. Orient dishes horizontal for minimum wind resistance. Our new heading will be three zero zero degrees, at flank speed.”

As the crew did as commanded, he reread the next to last sheet. “Do you think this is serious?”

Zenata shrugged. “Whoever sent this bought the ship, which even Moscow would not sell cheaply. I would assume they are serious about the money. It is probably cheaper than training their own crew.”

Lonsky picked up the mike. He switched the intercom so that he could broadcast to the entire crew. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you are now aware, the ship has been sold to someone, whose name we do not know. However, we have received a communiqué from them with a job offer for each of us to stay on for another month of work, remaining in our assigned jobs on board ship. The terms of the deal are simple. A bonus of one hundred thousand dollars American for each member of the crew for that one month. Paid in cash. If anyone does not want to stay on board, please notify me immediately.” He clicked off the mike and waited. As expected, the message board remained unlit.

Zenata had a last sheet, which she gave to him.

Lonsky read it. It detailed specific instructions. “Can you do this?” he asked Zenata.

“It is simply preparing our master computer for interface with another computer,” she said. “It is not very difficult. But I wonder why someone would want us to do that.”

“Any clue who bought us?”

Zenata shook her head. “This message came from a commercial satellite. It could have originated anywhere. It does have the proper authorization code word,” she added unnecessarily.

“Do what they want,” Lonsky ordered.

“Where are we headed?” Zenata asked.

“The Lesser Antilles. Saba, to be specific.”

“ Saba?”

“A small island with no harbor.”

Zenata hadn’t left yet. “And what do you think they want us to do when we get there?”

“That is a very interesting question to which I do not have a clue.”

Dalton watched the team appear on the virtual plane above the Mount of the Holy Cross. Jackson was above him, formed in her eagle avatar, Barnes to his right. Kirtley had seven men with him, lined up like a row of ghostly images behind him. Dalton noted that Kirtley’s avatar was larger and stronger looking than the man appeared in real life.

“First jump point,” Kirtley ordered.

Jackson was gone before he even finished the sentence. Dalton visualized the spot, and then he was there. Barnes appeared. Then one, two of Kirtley’s men. The rest straggled in, one by one.

“You need to appear on target at the same time,” Dalton pointed out.

“That’s why we’re practicing,” Kirtley responded shortly. “Dr. Hammond, project an image of our target.”

In the center of the group, a scaled version of a special range at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, appeared. Dalton had been there before, in the real world, when his team had gone for urban operations training. The range was an example of a village in Germany, complete with buildings, town square, sewer system, and roads. Kirtley had had the range personnel put automatic targets in, then clear the area.

“Our objective is here.” Kirtley pointed at a large building facing the small square. “It’s as close as we can come to simulating the villa.” He looked at Dalton. “Time for you to go there. I don’t think it would be quite fair if you heard our assault plans.”

“Roger that,” Dalton said. “Dr. Hammond, I want a private link that only Jackson and Barnes can hear.”

“You’ve got it,” Hammond informed him. “I’m also blocking the team’s communications from you.”

“Let’s go,” Dalton said. He jumped and was above the building Kirtley had indicated as the main objective.

“What’s the plan?” Barnes asked.

“Let’s see what’s set up first,” Dalton said. He flowed through the roof of the building and descended to the basement. There were targets set up to indicate guards and several dummies placed on the floor to simulate the prisoners. It was the best that could be done on such short notice.

“Barnes, you’ve got this building. Shoot the hostages the minute the first avatar comes in here.”

“Roger that, Sergeant Major.”

“ Jackson, I want you to be our eye in the sky. Relay what you see to us.”

“I thought we were supposed to pretend to be people,” Jackson said.

“Rules are made to be broken,” Dalton said.

“And where will you be?” Barnes asked.

In reply, Dalton simply pointed down, then he vanished from site as he jumped.

Sailors watched as the Green Berets and SEALs test-fired their weapons off the deck of the Roosevelt , spewing lines of tracers into the ocean. Satisfied their weapons worked, the men began smearing camouflage paint on their faces, loading magazines, and sharpening knives. The air crews walked around their helicopters, making sure they were ready for flight. They all knew the members of ODA 054 who had launched from this very ship, and they had been shown the photograph of Captain Scott’s body. Rescue was the primary mission, but silently accepted among all the men was the desire for revenge.

The coast of Colombia was directly ahead of the bow of the carrier, a hundred miles over the horizon.

Valika had spent the entire flight on her cell phone and laptop, coordinating what she would need. She had operated in the United States many times before for Cesar, so she had had no trouble lining up the men and equipment to do the task-in a capitalistic society, money could indeed buy anything. She had already transferred over sixteen million dollars into various accounts and upon completion of the mission would transfer another fifteen million.

The small Aura projector sat across from her, hooked to the plane’s power. At this low level it generated a large enough field for Raisor to appear, floating across from her, listening in on her conversations. She had not needed his help or contacts. The rest of the passenger compartment of the Lear jet was empty.

“Make sure they have explosives,” Raisor advised her for the third time.

“I’ve already insured we will have adequate means to get inside the complex,” Valika said. “I have a question for you, though.”

“Yes?”

“What if we are confronted with Psychic Warriors? What if not all of them are in Colombia?”

“The most critical time will be when you land,” Raisor said. “You must get inside the complex quickly-it’s the one place where the Psychic Warriors can’t operate, since it’s shielded. It’s the same way Dalton destroyed the Russian facility.”

“ Dalton?”

“One of the army people at Bright Gate,” Raisor said. “He betrayed me also. They all did.”

“You still did not answer me what we should do if we are confronted,” Valika noted.

Raisor smiled and pointed at the two cases that Valika had bought from Kraskov. “I know what you have there.”

“Will they work on Psychic Warriors?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Raisor said, “but I imagine they will have some effect. That’s if you see them first.”

“They can’t stay invisible from you, can they?”

“No.”

“Good. Then you will warn us if you see them on the virtual plane, correct?”

“Correct.”

The rest of the trip was made in silence.

The Lear touched down at a small airfield outside of Granby, in north-central Colorado. It had been chosen because one of her contacts knew that there were four Army National Guard Huey helicopters parked there-exactly what they would need.

The mercenaries she had hired had already taken over the small field, capturing the two full-time employees. As the Lear rolled to a stop, a Ford Explorer came racing out of a hangar and up to the plane. The man who stepped out was short and wiry, wearing khaki with a combat vest strapped on his chest. He carried an MP-5 submachine gun casually in his right hand.

“Good-bye, Mr. Raisor,” Valika said as she crossed the aisle and flipped off the switch for the Aura generator. Raisor’s form popped out of existence. She then unhooked the generator and went to the now open door of the plane. She hopped down the steps and met the man.

“Mr. Gregory,” Valika said, nodding in greeting.

“Ms. Valika. It’s a pleasure to do business once again.” Gregory led her toward the truck. “You do know, of course, that due to the mission to be accomplished, the location here inside my own country, and the amount you are paying, this will be the last time I will be working. My men and I will be retiring to a remote location after this.”

“That would make sense,” Valika agreed.

“I could use some more specifics on what actually we are looking for and what is to be recovered.”

“Get us in first,” Valika said. “Then you’ll be shown what is to be taken.” She paused at the door. “There’s something in the airplane-a computer-that you need to off-load and place inside the helicopter I am to ride in. There are also several cases of high-power lithium batteries. Those are to be placed near the computer.”

She waited while Gregory’s men hauled out the small Aura transmitter and the batteries. Then she got in the truck and they drove to the hangar.

“They’re here,” Jackson ’s voice, modified through Sybyl, sounded inside of Dalton ’s head. Or actually, he realized, his avatar’s head. He still wasn’t comfortable operating on the virtual plane. She relayed what she was seeing, through the computer, to both Barnes and Dalton.

Kirtley’s team appeared, popping into existence, almost simultaneously. Four men on the roof of the main building, one in each cardinal direction. Targets began popping up and the avatars fired, small balls of power exploding the wooden silhouettes.

Dalton moved down the sewer tunnel he was in, forcing himself to not “jump” but move totally in the real plane. He shoved open a manhole cover and fired as he came out, hitting one of the team in the back with a low-power shot. Dr. Hammond froze the avatar.

“You’re dead,” Dalton said as he ducked back down into the tunnel. He raced back toward the building, keeping track of Kirtley’s forces via Jackson. The four men that had appeared on the roof were working their way down through the building, a classic clearing technique. Dalton had expected Kirtley’s men to jump from the roof to the hostage room in one move.

Dalton popped his head up in the hostage room, Barnes’s avatar not even turning. “Hey, Sergeant Major,” Barnes said.

“I’m taking a couple of the hostages,” Dalton said.

Barnes nodded. “They’re too slow.”

Dalton grabbed two of the dummies and ducked back down in the tunnel. He “saw”-via Barnes-the first avatars appear in the basement.

Barnes fired, spinning, hitting the remaining dummies, even as Kirtley’s men shot at him. Barnes hit all of the “hostages” before being shut down by Dr. Hammond. Dalton lost his “eye” in the room.

Dalton made it across the street and up into the next building. Through Jackson he could “see” that Kirtley had called in his other three men from their guard positions. And then all went black.

No form, no input. Nothing. Just self.

Dalton knew immediately that Kirtley had had Hammond shut him down. He felt a moment’s panic, but then used the techniques he had used in the Trojan Warrior program to regain control of his psyche. He was completely isolated on the virtual plane, unable to move, unable to even sense the grayness of the plane itself.

Panic overwhelmed him, his mind screaming without a voice. The memories of the prison cell in Vietnam came rushing back, led by the feeling of helplessness.

“Jimmy.”

He didn’t hear at first, so lost was he in his primal fears.

“Jimmy.”

Like a lifeline in a vast, dark ocean, the voice got through. Dalton seized on it, focusing.

“Jimmy. It’s me” “Marie” “Be careful, Jimmy. There are others here.” “Who?”

He felt power course into him, the black giving way to gray. He was moving, being jumped back to Bright Gate by Sybyl automatically, retracing the route he had taken to Fort Campbell.

And then he was back in the tank, the program bringing him back from the virtual world into his body.

“Marie?” Dalton queried into the gray, but there was no response.