The Rock

SECOND CONTACT

"Where’s Debra?"

Fran's question caught everyone off-guard. Hawkins swung his gaze up and met hers. She'd rarely seen such profound sadness in a person's eyes. There was more to Hawkins than the cold-blooded military man he liked to present the world with, she realized. She regretted her mercenary comment earlier in the cafeteria.

"She must have left when things got hairy on the radio," Batson replied. "She was here when it all started."

"Help me find her," she said, taking Hawkins by the arm and shuffling him toward the tent flap.

They stepped out, the bright sun causing them to blink for a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust.

"Did you see Miss Levy?" Hawkins asked one of the marine guards. "Yes, sir. She headed for the communications center a few minutes ago."

Fran led the way along the top of the Rock to the shelter that bristled with antennas. Entering, she spotted Debra seated at a console, typing.

"Debra, what are you doing?" Fran asked.

Levy glanced over her shoulder. "I'm letting them know that what just happened at Tunguska is a mistake."

"Letting who know?" Hawkins asked, his mind still echoing with the screams of dying men.

Levy tapped the enter key. "Whoever is in, or behind whatever is in, the Rock."

"What did you do?" Hawkins asked, startled.

Levy pointed at the screen. "I just transmitted."

Hawkins and Fran looked over her shoulder. The screen was an unintelligible mass of O's and l's. "What's the content of your message?" Hawkins asked.

Levy hit another key and the screen cleared. "Just what I said-that we mean no harm and that we wish only peace."

Hawkins glanced at Fran and grimaced. Across the tent, Spurlock was sitting at another console, headphones on, oblivious to what had just happened.

"Do you know if the Rock received your message?" Fran asked.

Levy smiled. "We should find out shortly."

"What do we have in common that whatever is in the Rock would want us four here?" Fran asked the question that had been bugging her ever since she'd been told of the message at the end of the initial transmission.

Levy was still with them, although Hawkins had had to argue fiercely with Lamb to keep him from locking her up. She still refused to divulge the exact contents of the message she had transmitted. A chagrined Major Spurlock could confirm that a message had been sent-the automatic logs at least had that recorded, but Levy had erased the actual contents. She'd sent it out in the same manner as the second transmission had been received-on a sliding wavelength moving up from fourteen twenty megahertz. Whether the Rock had received it, no one knew.

The members of the team were sitting in the operations shelter with Lamb, trying to regroup from the double shock of the military action in Siberia and Levy's attempt at communication.

Lamb shook his head in reply to Fran's question. "I’ve asked that same question and my people have cross-referenced your backgrounds, looking for a common thread. We've come up with nothing for all four." He looked at Hawkins and their gazes locked-Lamb was convinced Levy had crossed some mental line and "no longer had both oars in the water," as Lamb had scientifically put it.

As if she had intercepted that look, Levy's low voice cut across the room. "You think I'm nuts, don't you?" When no one answered, she continued. "I assume you know about my therapy? And my institutionalization?" This time she didn't wait for an answer. Her voice took on a slightly mocking tone. "The doctors believe what happened to me happened because my rapid academic advancement outstripped the emotional skills I needed to cope with it." She laughed. "I assure you, gentlemen, and lady," she said, nodding her head at Fran, "I am probably the sanest person in this room right now."

"Then you know about my breakdown too," Fran quietly commented, looking at Lamb. That brought a look of surprise to Hawkins's face.

"Yes, we know about it, but you've been cleared by the doctors," Lamb replied.

Batson was vibrating in place. "What about you?" He was looking at Hawkins. "Did you have a breakdown too?"

"No. I just kill people," Hawkins replied, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Batson was caught up in the confusion of the situation. "Well, I haven't had a breakdown, nor have I had to get re-grooved in a nuthouse. Nor have I killed anyone. So why am I here?"

The sharp crump of an explosion derailed any answer. "What's that?" Fran asked.

"We're blasting to get to the chamber," Lamb explained.

"I thought you weren't going to do that," Batson said.

Lamb's reply was brief. "Things have changed."

"Afraid they're going to beat us to the punch?" Hawkins asked.

"They've already beaten us to the punch, as you put it," Lamb replied. "Either the Russians are behind this thing or they're as confused as we are. Either way, they've already uncovered their site. We can't waste any more time."

"What are you going to do when you get to the chamber?" Fran asked.

"It depends on what's there." Lamb shrugged. "It might be the same as what's in Tunguska, but we have to remember that Tunguska never transmitted. We're sitting on the transmitter. Maybe the one over there is just a receiver."

A man poked his head in the tent and gestured for Lamb, who stood. "If you come up with anything that you all have in common that my people might have missed, let me know. I've got other pressing matters that I need to attend to." He walked out, taking his folders with him.

Fran looked at Hawkins and then Batson. The latter sank into a chair with a sigh. "Listen, Fran, I think I know why I'm here. And probably why you're here. I can even understand why you're here." He jerked a thumb at Hawkins. "But I don't understand why Levy is here."

"Why do you think you're here?" Hawkins asked.

"I'm one of the top experts in the world in geology. This thing-whatever it is-is in the middle of the largest homogeneous rock in the world." Batson waved a hand, to forestall Hawkins's comment. "On top of that, though, is that I'm a member of the Hermes Project. As is Fran."

"I've heard that referred to several times," Hawkins said. "What is this Hermes Project?"

Batson rubbed the stubble of beard on his chin with a shaking hand. "It was formed about two years ago. Some bright light in D.C. figured that the President should have a scientific think tank that he could call on when he needed answers. Not knowing what the potential questions would be that he might need answers to, the government recruited one or two of the top people in every possible scientific field and made them part of what they named the Hermes Project. I was tapped to be part of it eighteen months ago. "In that time I've been to five orientation meetings in West Virginia, but this is only the second time I've ever been called to actually work on something."

"What about you?" Hawkins shifted his gaze to Fran.

"I was one of the original members of Hermes. Last I checked, there were eighty-seven full-fledged members. I've done a lot more work under the auspices of the project than Don has, though. As a matter of fact, all I've been doing for the past sixteen months is running projections for Lamb and his people."

"A scientific soothsayer."

They all turned in surprise at the unexpected voice. Dr. Pencak stood in the tent doorway, leaning on her cane. She made her way over to the table and sat down in a chair.

"I've never heard statistical projection called that," Fran remarked. "Quite frankly, the way my projections run, they are far from being soothing."

"How does this event merge with your projections?" Pencak asked.

"It doesn't," Fran said.

"So are they still valid?"

"It depends," Fran replied. "You need to look at the course of history as a deep-running river. You can throw stones in the river, but it will still run in the same course. You need something very significant to be able to change the direction. No pun intended, but so far this is just a stone. A very puzzling one, but still just a stone."

"What direction are we headed in now?" Batson wanted to know.

"Not a very good one." Fran closed her eyes briefly, really not wanting to get into it, then opened them. She knew the numbers by heart. "There's a very strong probability we will have a severe worldwide economic depression in the next few years. The destruction of that mine in South Africa can only hasten that event. There's also a very strong probability we may have another world war, as the world's economy reaches critical mass-this one oriented more north south, industrialized nations against the underdeveloped. The shapers against the suppliers of the raw materials."

"Not a very strong chance we will live happily ever after?" Hawkins asked.

Another explosion rumbled through the Rock.

"No. If we don't screw ourselves up by setting off nuclear bombs, then what we are doing to the environment will most likely do us in."

"Is that why you had your breakdown?" Hawkins quietly asked.

Fran considered him for a few moments, then nodded. "You can only deal with so much negative information before you need a release. I had no support in my marriage, so I picked the easiest thing I could find. I started drinking too much. I thought I could handle it all, but it finally caught up with me after a year."

"And the information hasn't gotten any more positive, has it?" Pencak noted.

"No, but I deal with it better," Fran replied.

"Yes, you may deal with it better," Pencak said. "But the people who are in power don't. Why does this entire mission here have to be classified? Why can't we share what we have found?"

Fran looked at Hawkins and knew what he was thinking. If Pencak knew about the men who'd just died at Tunguska, she'd really have something to talk about.

"What do you think about the second transmission?" Batson asked the question Fran had already considered in her mind.

"What message?" Pencak interrupted Fran's answer.

Fran quickly explained the strange transmission that had faded out and in. "I think Debra might have a point," she ended up admitting.

"Hold on," Hawkins said. "We're getting too caught up in the details here. Let's get back to the big picture. We've had a lot of things happen in the past week-most of which don't make much sense. Let's back up a little bit and see if we can find any pattern to all this."

Fran hid her smile as Hawkins went to the easel and started writing on the paper with a marker. She liked his way of always trying to draw things out to make them easier to see. When he was done, he had seven blocks listed:

Hawkins tapped the paper. "The nuclear bombs may have nothing to do with the Rock. All we know is that a transmission was directed at Vredefort Dome shortly after that bomb went off. If we assume there was something under the Dome, similar to what we have here and what the Russians have uncovered at Tunguska, we might also assume that the transmission was an attempt to contact whatever it is. Perhaps what's here in the Rock monitored the blast and wanted to check on the status of the site at Vredefort Dome."

"And it failed," Fran noted, "because the nuke destroyed whatever was under the Dome."

"I don't buy it," Batson disagreed. "The area around Vredefort Dome has been extensively mined. There's a good chance that if there was anything under it, it would have been found by now."

"And there's a good chance it wouldn't have been," Pencak countered. "The Red Streak was the first mine to actually go under the Dome itself, and it angled in over a mile underground. That leaves a mile of unexplored rock directly under the Dome."

"Also," Fran said, "remember that the transmissions in 1945 occurred when Hiroshima and Nagasaki were bombed. Maybe this thing transmits anytime nuclear weapons are used in a destructive manner."

"How can it-whatever it is-tell the difference between a nuclear blast that's for real and one that is just for testing?" Batson asked.

Pencak turned her eye to Hawkins, ignoring the geologist. "I have not been kept up-to-date on everything that's happened. What do you mean when you say 'similar to what the Russians have uncovered at Tunguska'?"

Hawkins showed her the satellite imagery and explained what had happened with his team. Fran watched the older woman's face for any sort of reaction. If Lamb was correct, the Tunguska information should come as no surprise to her. Her face betrayed little, but her voice was excited as she ignored what had happened to the men and focused on what had been found by the Russians.

"This is amazing! We never did any probing into the ground when we were there. Maybe Felix did know something, but I doubt it. They would have dug this up a long time ago if they had suspected it existed. If there is something at Tunguska, then I think we definitely have to believe that there was something under the Dome."

"What about the other three sites?" Fran asked.

"Destroyed long ago, most likely."

"Fine," Batson said. "Say we buy into that. What about Voyager 2? How did it get destroyed only yesterday?"

Pencak shook her head. "I don't know. But I think that fact also points very strongly to extraterrestrial involvement."

Hawkins disagreed. "The Russians have particle-beam weapons that might have destroyed Voyager."

"That far away?" Pencak wasn't buying it. "If they had a particle-beam weapon that could reach from Earth to beyond the orbit of Pluto, I think we would have seen it deployed here on this planet or at least heard something about it."

Hawkins wasn't going to give up so easily. "Maybe they've got it deployed on board their space station. That would remove any interference from the atmosphere."

Pencak gave a soft laugh. "You still prefer the enemy you know to the unknown, don't you?"

"I prefer it to worse-case scenarios," Hawkins retorted. "To me the worst case is if the Russians are behind the destruction of Voyager; the transmissions out of the Rock; and, ultimately, the use of those two nuclear bombs." He tapped a finger on the easel.

"The one common denominator that I can come up with is Russia."

Fran had to admit his logic made more sense than anything else they'd heard so far. She felt the jet lag of the long flight finally starting to kick in and she also sensed that they were spinning their wheels and going nowhere.

"You have no concept of what we might be dealing with, do you?" Levy asked rhetorically. "It's not like in the movies and on TV. An extraterrestrial civilization that could cross space to other star systems would most likely be of a magnitude we could not comprehend." She looked around the room. "Has anyone here ever heard of the three levels of civilization based on energy as postulated by the Soviet astronomer Kardashev?"

Seeing that no one was ready to reply, she continued. "Kardashev laid out three levels of civilization we here on Earth are at the first level, which is the burning of readily available fossil and planetary nuclear fuels. A level-two civilization would be one that could tap the energy of its star, which most scientists on Earth concede is the next logical step for us in the next millennium if we make it that far. Tapping in to a sun increases the power potential by trillions. A level three society would be able to tap the entire energy of the galaxy of which it is a part. That amount of energy is almost incomprehensible."

"All right," Hawkins said. "If this is a message generated by a non-Earth source, what level of civilization do you think is sending it?"

"Obviously a level-two civilization," she said. "Whoever it is must have interstellar travel and it is most likely a carbon-based life-form."

"Why do you say that?" Fran asked.

"Because of the frequencies-bouncing between fourteen twenty and sixteen sixty-two-the water holes of interstellar communication. The hydrogen line is at fourteen twenty megahertz and the first hydroxyl line is only two hundred forty-two megahertz higher at sixteen sixty-two. Between the two lies the quietest part of spectrum. But it also is quite interesting that it lies between the lines of the molecular building blocks of carbon-based life-water.

"In fact," Levy said, "I think that-" She paused as Major Spurlock and Lamb appeared in the doorway to the shelter.

"We've picked up a third transmission," Spurlock explained as he quickly made his way to the computer. "Just like the second one, except shorter."

He typed in some commands and then gestured for Levy. "You broke out the first one. See what you make of this."

The rest of the team gathered around as Levy sat down at the keyboard and her fingers flew over the keys. She kept the others up to speed as she worked. "It's in digital format, sliding up the scale, from fourteen twenty just like the second one. In fact, it is exactly like the second one, with a disappearing center."

She hit the return key. "Here's the initial part that I can decode." Her face lit up with a wide smile as four words appeared.

"Great," Hawkins muttered, glancing at Lamb.

Lamb turned to Spurlock. "Can you confirm that message?"

In response Spurlock replaced Levy at the computer. After a few minutes the same words came up.

"What does it mean?" Fran asked. "How do they expect you to come to them?"

Levy shrugged. "They will provide."

"Still nothing on the middle part?" Lamb asked.

Levy shook her head. "It disappears."

Hawkins pressed a hand against his left temple. "How long until we're through to the chamber in the Rock?"

Lamb checked his watch. "Six or seven hours."

Fran stood. "I don't know about all of you, but I'm beat. We can sit here all day and speculate and argue, but until something happens we might as well get some rest. We're going to need it once they get into whatever is in the Rock."

As she left the operations tent she was surprised to find that Hawkins was right behind her. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested.

Together they walked along the top of the Rock, the summer heat rising off the pitted surface. Hawkins halted near the edge, where concertina wire blocked the drop. Out in the distance, on the desert floor, the camouflage nets of Tolliver's marines dotted the landscape.

"What do you think of Levy's theory?" Hawkins asked.

Fran sighed. "I don't know. I do know I can't offer a logical solution for all that's happening."

"Do you think Levy's lost it?" he asked, twirling a finger next to his head.

"Maybe. If we buy the aliens theory, why would they contact her and not any of the rest of us? It's all too weird."

"Maybe because she is the only who seems to believe," Hawkins mused. "What about Don?" he asked.

"What about him?

"He's on edge."

"He does seem pretty high strung," Fran admitted.

Hawkins's voice was sharp. "Is that a nice way of saying he's drying out? You worked with him in Hermes. Did he dry out there, too, or did they let him drink?"

Fran remained silent.

Hawkins finally sighed. "All right. I guess I'm on edge too. We've all done the best we can with what we have. It's hard on all of us." An explosion reverberated through the rock under their feet. "Hopefully, we'll get some answers when they break through," Hawkins said. "You're right in saying there's not much we can do at present. I just hate waiting."

That was the first time Hawkins had ever expressed a personal opinion in front of Fran. She sensed he was uneasy about something and wanted to talk. "Do you have any idea why the four of us were chosen?"

Hawkins shook his head. "None. And I'm not sure I agree with Don about his being here because he's a geologist. And why would I be chosen-a military man? I think there's something else involved."

Fran studied Hawkins's face in the bright sunlight. "I don't mean to pry, but you made a very odd comment in the mess hall back at DSCC 14 about your wife. You said-"

"I know what I said," Hawkins snapped. He turned from her and stared out into the desert for a long moment. Fran shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, not sure what to say.

"My wife's been in a coma for the past four years. She's essentially brain dead."

"I'm sorry," Fran said quickly. "I didn't mean to… well, I just wondered if…" She trailed off into silence, surprised to see what she could have sworn was a tear merge with the lines of sweat on Hawkins's face as he turned back toward her.

"No. You have a right to ask anything. We're all in this together." He sighed. "We were in a car crash. Hit the back of a semi that was stopped on the road."

"You weren't hurt?"

"No. I had my seat belt on. Mary didn't." There was a pause. "The next question most people ask is, who was driving?"

"You can't blame yourself, can you? It was an accident, right?"

Hawkins closed his eyes briefly. "Yes, it was an accident." He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. "But do you think that makes any difference in how I feel?"

"You said she didn't need you," Fran remembered. "Is that true?"

"I don't know."

"Do you see her?"

"I visit every evening when I'm not deployed. She's in a government hospital. They keep her body alive." Hawkins eyes lost their focus. "Sometimes I wonder if there isn't some part of her still alive in there-something of who she was. The doctors say the damage was too extensive, but if you're alive, then who's to say? Who's to say she isn't trapped in there by a body that won't respond and by a brain that's been damaged and not killed?"

A long silence ensued, broken only by the whine of generators and the distant thump of the guardian helicopters. Finally, Fran spoke. "You looked surprised when I said that I had had a breakdown."

Hawkins blinked, his mind returning to the present. "I was."

"Why?"

"You seem like someone who, pardon the expression, has her shit together."

"So do you," she noted. "I would have never imagined that I would see you get emotional like you just did."

Hawkins had no response to that. "I lost it-completely lost it," Fran said quietly. "I calculated so many different ways the world could get screwed up. No one was very interested in projecting ways we could get our act together. That would have required action and upsetting the status quo. It just overwhelmed me-something I couldn't control, but was there present in front of me every day."

"Yeah," Hawkins said. "I understand the feeling."

"But my problem," Fran continued, "was that I started taking responsibility for it all. As if I alone should somehow change things. Yet I also knew I couldn't. I drank so I didn't have to think, and when that didn't work, I flipped out. Just withdrew from the entire world. Locked myself in my room for three days before my husband broke down the door and had me committed. The one thing those people at the institute taught me, and the only thing that helps me get out of bed every morning, is that I am responsible for me and for doing all I can do, and that's it. That's all that can be expected of us as human beings. To do our best."

"If only more people thought that way, we might have a better world," Hawkins noted.

"If you thought that way, perhaps your life would be a bit happier," Fran said.

Hawkins stared at her for a long moment, and then the trace of a smile crossed his lips. "All right, Doctor Volkers. I'll keep that under advisement. Now, I’d advise you to get some sleep. You're going to need it."

Fran turned for her tent. "You get some sleep yourself," she called over her shoulder.

Hawkins waved at her and then turned back to stare out over the red sand. When Fran looked out the flap of her tent ten minutes later before lying down on her cot, he was still there, a lonely figure etched against the brilliant blue sky.

"What kind of fallout are we going to get over those three men from Orion?" the President demanded.

"Should be minimal," Lamb replied. "They were completely sterile, so nothing can be gleaned from their equipment. The Russians will suspect we were behind it but they won't really have anything to show. I don't think we need to worry about them trying to expose the mission. I think our main problem now will be that they'll try to infiltrate our site here. We've upped the stakes and they could answer quite readily."

"You have no idea what it was that those men saw before they were compromised?"

"No, sir."

"No idea if the Russians know what they have uncovered or even if the Russians are behind it?"

"No, sir."

The President shook his head. "I need some answers, Steve. You've got a mess there and I've got one here." The President frowned as he looked down at some papers spread on the desk in front of him. "Things are not looking good. Volkers's projections are running true to form. Congress is battling me to a standstill on my aid plan to those countries hardest hit economically because of the loss of the mine."

Lamb could understand Congress's reluctance. Why spend desperately needed dollars overseas? He also knew that the few Congressional leaders briefed on Volkers's statistical projections had not been impressed. Long-range planning was not a strength of the American political system.

"What about the other bomb?" the President asked.

"I haven't heard anything. Still searching, sir."

"How long until you're into whatever you have there?"

"Six or seven hours."

"All right. Let me know what you come up with." Lamb watched the television screen go blank and then called for Colonel Tolliver. Perimeter security needed to be tightened. He hadn't told the President about the last two broadcasts from the Rock. Lamb figured that this was his own problem right now-not something he should burden the President with.

Done with Tolliver, Lamb had one of the marines track Hawkins down. "What more did you pick up on Levy?" Hawkins asked, slumping into a chair.

Lamb snapped open one of the ever-present file folders. "I have a copy of the transcript of her last meeting with her psychologist a week ago in New York." Hawkins didn't bother asking how Lamb had gotten hold of that privileged information-in fact, it didn't occur to him to ask. He took it for granted that Lamb would get such information.

"What are the highlights."

Lamb studied the fax paper for a few seconds. "Her doctor is Michael Preston. Ten sixty-five Fifth Avenue. Does quite a bit of work with people like Levy-they call them intellectually accelerated personalities. She's been seeing him for eight months, ever since she was released from the hospital. All previous work focused on her trying to adapt socially to a world she did not emotionally feel a part of. This last session, however, took a different turn, with Levy terminating the relationship."

"Was she on any sort of drugs? Antidepressants or any of that?" Hawkins asked.

"No. Just therapy."

"Why'd she terminate?"

"It would be easiest if I read you the transcript," Lamb said. "It's not very long."

Hawkins leaned back and closed his eyes. "Go ahead."

"She started the session: quote, Levy: 'I'm afraid this simply isn't going to work'

"Doctor: 'What isn't going to work?'

"Levy: 'My seeing you. I don't think you can help me.'

"Doctor: 'Why not?'

"Levy: 'Because you can't understand me. It's not your fault. No one has ever really understood me. And you can't even understand that, can you?'

"Doctor: 'You can help me understand, Debra.'

"Levy: 'No, I can't. I've tried that before and it didn't work. My head is my enemy. And I can't get rid of it without getting rid of me.'

"Doctor: 'Is that why you tried to kill yourself!'

"Levy: 'I tried to kill myself because I'm dangerous and I will become more dangerous as I learn more.'

"Doctor: 'Learn more about what?'

"Levy: 'You wouldn't understand. My work.'

"Doctor: 'Dangerous to whom? Yourself!'

"Levy: 'No. To the world.'

"Doctor: 'Oh, come now. Why do you say that? How can you be dangerous to the world.'

"Levy: 'Wouldn't you say the men who worked on the Manhattan Project were some of the most dangerous men the world has ever seen?'

"Doctor: 'But they also gave us nuclear power.'

"Levy: 'And that's not very safe either. No, Doctor, I don't think you can help me. If you can't think like me, then how can you hope to help? Don't worry. I'll be all right.' "

Lamb closed the folder. "And that was the end. She walked out of his office and never went back."

"What was she working on?" Hawkins asked. "She consulted for a few of the teams working on some SDI projects, but nothing particularly earth shattering," Lamb replied. "She was mainly working theoretical stuff at MIT."

Hawkins rubbed his chin. Not earth shattering now, but Levy was only twenty-three. In another decade who was to say what she would be working on and whether her theories might turn into reality? Hell, Lamb had told him that they had her on the list to be added to Hermes during the next selection-at only twenty-three!

Hawkins looked across the desk. "I'm starting to think we've got this thing by the tail and it's going to turn around and bite our head off." He thought of the deaths of the members of his team in Tunguska. He had grown used to death a long time before-at least he thought he had. But there was a feeling in his stomach and chest that didn't agree with that cold logic. He remembered Fran's recent advice and stood. "I'm going to try and get some sleep."