The Reply

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.”

“So you’ve been waiting all this time?” Turcotte asked.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you done something before now?”

“Our charter and authorization for action under the presidential directive is very specific. Our jurisdiction is only over live contact with alien life.” “And now?” Turcotte asked.

“Now, since live contact is pending, we must act.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Zandra said. “Our course of action has not been decided, because we don’t have enough information. It might be to welcome Aspasia and the Airlia with open arms or it might be to oppose him with everything we can muster in a fight to the death.” She turned to the communications console. “I’d like to bring my superior, Lexina, in on this.”

Neither Turcotte or Duncan objected, so she flipped on a speaker. “Lexina, this is Zandra. I have Dr. Duncan and Captain Turcotte here with me.”

A woman’s voice came out of the speaker. “Captain, you have the information we need to make a very important decision. The foo fighters, which Aspasia controls, are certainly acting in a hostile manner, but before committing to a course of action we’ve been waiting to hear what you found in Qian-Ling. What did the guardian there tell Professor Nabinger?”

“Nabinger was convinced that Aspasia was coming to Earth to take the mothership and destroy the planet,” Turcotte summed it up succinctly. “The Qian-Ling guardian reversed the story he got from the Easter Island one: Aspasia was the rebel and it was the Kortad, or Airlia police, under someone named Artad, that saved the human race and the planet.”

“Which do you believe?” Lexina asked.

“Neither.”

Zandra’s eyebrows rose over her sunglasses. “You think we should do nothing?” “I didn’t say that.”

Dr. Duncan spoke for the first time. “Why do you believe neither, Mike?”

“I don’t have any evidence. We’re getting conflicting stories, and for all we know they could both be bullshit. The bottom line is that Earth is our planet. These Airlia came here, set up shop, blasted Atlantis back into the ocean when they couldn’t keep their act together, and have been dicking with us every once in a while for millennia.

“Everyone’s made a big deal about Aspasia, saying he didn’t interfere with our growth as a species, but as far as I can tell he didn’t help either. None of the Airlia did. I mean, this isn’t Star Trek — it’s not like the Airlia have a prime directive not to interfere.

“Let’s look at what both sides admit to: Aspasia’s guardian says he blasted Atlantis and left the guardian on Easter Island, which is controlling the foo fighters right now; Artad’s guardian says he blasted Atlantis, and left the guardian computer in Temiltepec that took over Gullick; plus, it says he left a nuke in the Great Pyramid, and I think we have to assume got the Great Pyramid built in the first place, and I’d sure say that affected a whole bunch of humans, not to mention all the poor human slobs who died building the section of the Great Wall simply to spell HELP.

“We know foo fighters accompanied the Enola Gay and watched the U.S. atom-bomb Japan; well, the human race could have used some help there. Or many other times in our history. They didn’t leave us alone but they also didn’t help us. Why should we think that’s changed now? I think we can safely assume that Aspasia is going to be looking out for his own interests, not ours. So the question is, why is he coming back now? What’s different?”

The room was quiet as everyone turned over the events of the past week in their minds. Lisa Duncan spoke first. “The guardian at Temiltepec was moved and then destroyed.”

Turcotte nodded. “You were right in a way about the sphere being a doomsday device. According to Nabinger, that guardian was responsible for the ruby sphere in the Rift Valley.

“It could release the sphere,” Turcotte said, “into the chasm and an explosion that deep would start a chain reaction that could destroy the planet. When they took the guardian out of Temiltepec, Majestic made the sphere vulnerable,” Turcotte said. “That’s what’s different and that’s what Aspasia wants.

“Also remember they blew Viking out of the sky over Mars so we couldn’t see what was going on. The foo fighters destroyed the Pasadena and killed all those men on board. And that happened after Aspasia was awake. Taking aside what the different guardians have said, I think the Airlia haven’t exactly been the friendliest and most peaceful encounter we could have for first live contact. And now they’re coming here in six ships that certainly don’t look like ET’s ship waving a white flag of peace.”

Turcotte stared at the others inside the bouncer. “We either roll over on our stomachs like a beaten dog and hope they scratch our belly and not blow our brains out or we fight them. But there’s no way of absolutely knowing which is the right course until it’s too late.”

Lexina’s voice filled the short silence that followed. “You are correct. Our charter that was signed by President Eisenhower directs us to take whatever means necessary to oppose an alien landing if there is not absolutely clear-cut evidence that the aliens are benevolent. Thus, for STAAR, our course of action is clear. We oppose Aspasia.”

Turcotte rubbed the stubble on his chin. He knew Kelly Reynolds would be blowing a gasket if she could hear this conversation. He also kept unvoiced his suspicion that STAAR wasn’t all it pretended to be either. Take things down in the order that they’ll kill you, was the maxim he’d had beaten into him in the mud at Fort Benning and the forests of Fort Bragg.

And right now Turcotte knew that Aspasia was what had to be stopped first. He’d deal with STAAR when he could.

But Kelly Reynolds had been listening. She looked up at Major Quinn. The speaker that had played the intercepted conversation sat on the tabletop between them. Quinn had had the NSA zero in on any communications between Scorpion Base and anywhere in the world. It had not been hard to piggyback the communications that were routed through a MILSTAR satellite. Kelly had returned to the Cube twenty minutes ago.

“They can’t,” Kelley said as the radio went dead. “Aspasia has said he is coming in peace. We have to believe him.”

“Tell that to the men on the Pasadena,” Quinn said.

“They fired first!” Kelly yelled.

“Yes, they did,” Major Quinn acknowledged. “But the foo fighters didn’t have to destroy the sub. They could have disabled the torpedoes and gone about their business.”

“That was just an automatic response!” Kelly reached out and grabbed Quinn’s arm. “Please. Give me a bouncer. Let me get to Easter Island and the guardian before things go too far.”

Quinn had a lot of other things on his mind at the moment, and they would be easier to accomplish without Reynolds looking over his shoulder. “Take Bouncer 6. I’ll alert the pilot.”

“Space Command has picked up a foo fighter heading in this direction,” Lexina’s voice rang out to those inside the bouncer. “We are going to have to evacuate our position here. There also seems to be some activity from the foo fighters over the Rift Valley compound. I think Aspasia is showing his hand. Good luck!”

Some activity was a large understatement.

Two U.S. Navy F-14’s from the George Washington had been on station fifty miles away, shadowing the two fighters. They were the first to get destroyed, as the foo fighters raced at them, disabling their engines. The fighters then turned for the compound. They crisscrossed the skies overhead, a tightly focused beam of golden light coming out of each, destroying the helicopters that were on the ground, blasting those that tried to take off.

Colonel Spearson and his surviving SAS men were gathered by the entrance, weapons in hand, waiting for the final assault and desperately radioing for help.

The talons were less than eight hours out from Earth, their tight formation still weaving the same pattern. But there was a brief flash of golden light from each ship as it took the lead in the formation.

A human fighter pilot from World War II would have recognized what they were doing: they were testing their weapons, making sure they functioned.