Eternity Base

Chapter 27

Walking along with her head bowed, eyes following the trail, Sammy almost tripped over the tread. She looked up and saw the circle of debris from the tractor twenty yards ahead.

“What happened?” Conner asked. “Did they have an accident?”

“Looks like they threw a track,” Riley answered. “They must have destroyed the tractor. So they’re on foot now, pulling the bomb.”

“We might catch them then,” Sammy said, feeling a surge of adrenaline.

“Yes.” Riley didn’t even bother to look at the others. He walked past the wreckage and on the other side found footprints and the furrow formed by the sled that carried the bomb. He set out at an even quicker pace.

The staff was assembled for the daily 1000 briefing. The mood in the war room was deadly serious as the speaker approached the podium. General Patterson sat in the first row, facing the front. The G-2 was the lead briefer as always, and today he had a rapt audience.

“Sir, unless there is a drastic change in data trends, we are currently less than two hours from going to a level three threat. Our intelligence indicates the entire People’s Korean Army is mobilizing. There are also unconfirmed reports that first- and second-stage reserves are being given their mobilization orders. The South Korean 4th Infantry Division destroyed one infiltration tunnel when the exit was opened. Their sector of the DMZ is north of Kumsong.” The G-2’s pointer slapped the map. “No report on ROK or PKA losses.”

Patterson ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. Since taking command of the Eighth Army a year ago, he’d known he was in the most volatile military theater in the world. The two countries were still technically at war, more than forty years after most people thought the Korean War had ended. In those forty years, thousands of people — Korean and American — had died in what the politicians liked to term incidents. But what was brewing now was no incident.

The accord that the two countries had signed in 1991 promised better relations, but it had barely been worth the paper it was printed on. As long as Kim II Sung’s son ruled, then only united Korea would be under his direction.

“No indication of any drawback?” the G-3 asked.

“No, sir.”

Patterson wasn’t willing to wait two hours. Most of his combat troops were based less than an hour’s flight time from the border, vulnerable to a quick air strike. Although the carefully mapped intelligence plan for North Korean mobilization and preparation for war was accurate, Patterson also remembered that there had been a very good intelligence plan in 1941 in Hawaii. It hadn’t worked too well.

Patterson had authority to go to level three. Level two required presidential approval. He had been here long enough to know one thing: the North Koreans were determined to go through with this.

“All U.S. forces will go to level three. I will inform my South Korean counterpart and the Pentagon.”

“Hold on!” Pak yelled as he felt the rope give way through his gloves. Lieutenant Kim and Sergeant Lee — at the tail end — wedged their bodies behind the sled to keep it from sliding back down the hundred-foot incline they had just laboriously negotiated.

“Pull,” Pak exhorted Sun and Ho. They tried to get a better grip on the icy rope in the front. Ho slipped, the rope burned out of Pak’s grip as the entire weight of the sled bore down on the two men in the rear.

Lee screamed as the eight-hundred-pound sled snapped the leg he’d wedged up against the lip. Kim threw himself out of the way as the sled ran over Lee’s twisted leg and rocketed to the bottom of the incline before finally turning over.

Pak slid his way down the hill to Lee. He didn’t need to probe for the injury in Lee’s thigh: white bone had pierced the many layers of clothes and was exposed to the brutal cold.

Kim joined him, and their eyes met as they looked over the injury. Lee’s face was twisted as he forced himself not to scream again.

“We can pull him on the sled,” Kim suggested weakly.

Pak was angry at his executive officer for even saying that. With five men they had barely been able to pull the sled. Now they were down to four.

Pak slowly stood and took a deep breath.

“I will take care of it, sir,” Kim said, obviously realizing the foolishness of his earlier comment.

“No.” Pak put his mittened hand on Kim’s shoulder. “I am the leader. It is my responsibility.” He looked down. “Do you wish for some time?”

Lee shook his head and closed his eyes. Pak pulled his AK-47 from where it hung across his back and slipped his index finger into the trigger finger in his mitten. He fired twice, both in the head, then turned and walked away. Behind him, Kim took two thermite grenades off his harness. He grabbed Lee’s weapon, then placed one grenade on top of Lee’s face and one on his chest. He pulled both pins and followed his commander.

They went to the bottom of the hill. The puff and glow from the thermite grenades flickered on the incline above them as they struggled to right the sled. The fire had burned out by the time they accomplished that and started the sled back up the hill, using longer traverses this time to prevent a repeat of the accident.

Major Bellamy listened through the headset as the pilot updated him on the situation. “The weather over the target is still too rough for you all to jump in. We’re going to head to McMurdo Station and let you jump there — the winds are much lower. We’ve received word that you will load onto a platform there, and that will take you out to the target.”

“What kind of platform?” Bellamy asked.

“Unknown. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Roger.”

Bellamy put down the headset. They’d received the news about the nuclear explosion several hours ago. Bellamy hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of jumping right on top of that. As far as he knew, their job was to secure the site, but the information he was getting over the radio was confusing. The biggest unanswered question was why the bomb had gone off.

Sammy sensed something different and halted. As she peered ahead, trying to figure out what had alerted her, she realized that it was the lack of something that had caught her attention. She turned around and looked back — Conner and Devlin were almost a hundred yards back and moving very slowly. She had no idea how long Riley and she had been pulling away from them. What had been missing was the noise of their shuffling feet on the ice as she concentrated on keeping up with Riley.

“Hold it,” she called out to Riley.

He turned. “What?”

Sammy pointed, and together they retraced their tracks.

“What’s the matter?” Sammy asked her sister when they came up to them.

She pointed at Devlin. “He says he can’t feel his feet.”

“Sit down,” Riley ordered Devlin.

Riley shrugged off his backpack and knelt down next to him. Devlin’s skin was white, and he was not fully aware of his environment. His lips were pale blue and he was shivering uncontrollably: the early symptoms of hypothermia. If allowed to progress much further, Devlin would go into true hypothermia, and Riley knew he couldn’t do anything about that — not in this environment.

“Get in your sleeping bag,” Riley ordered Conner. “Zip your bag with his and try to get him warmed up.”

Devlin looked right through him. He started walking off, back in the other direction. Riley caught up with him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get help,” was the barely coherent reply.

Riley grabbed his arm and dragged him back. He took off Devlin’s backpack and pulled out the sleeping bag. “Get in this. You’re not in any shape to go looking for help.”

Riley quickly dug through Conner’s backpack and pulled out her bag and sleeping pad. He laid them out, unzipped the bag, and helped her into it. After making sure that Devlin was bundled up next to her, Riley pulled out his portable stove. Sammy crawled into her own bag to keep warm. Riley pumped up the stove, squeezed starter gel around the nozzle, and lit it. When it was running smoothly, he pulled his canteen from the vest pocket of his parka and poured water into his canteen cup.

Riley made a cup of instant soup and split it between Devlin and Conner. He forced it down Devlin’s throat, getting the warm liquid to his stomach. In the early stages of hypothermia, circulation to the hands and feet is reduced as the body tries to maintain temperature in the vital organs. Riley knew that no matter how well insulated Devlin’s extremities now were, they would not warm unless the central core of his body was warmed. He also knew that this situation was precipitated not only by the cold but by lack of fluid intake. They had to give up an hour or two of traveling to ensure that they would be able to keep going.

It was now a grim equation: using her own body warmth, Conner had to raise Devlin’s heat production higher than his heat loss. Riley could feel the cold gnawing through his joints, so he attached his bag to Sammy’s and crawled in.

“What are you doing?” Sammy mumbled as Riley pressed up against her.

Riley didn’t say anything. Wrapping his body around hers, he managed with great difficulty to get the two bags zipped together. He could feel her drawing off his warmth like a heat vampire.

“You need to stay awake for a little while,” he exhorted her. “At least until we get your blood circulating properly. Then you can rest. You’re not too far away from going hypothermic yourself.”

“Too tired,” she muttered.

Riley considered the situation. He’d been taught the best way to deal with someone who was going into shock or hypothermia was to talk with them and try to keep their mind involved. If the mind led, the body hopefully would follow. He’d have to make it very interesting to rouse Sammy. Riley thought for a minute and then decided.

“Hey, Sammy. Did I ever tell you about my friend Donna Giannini?”

“What?” A little spark of interest from Sammy. “You haven’t told me much about yourself or anyone in your life.”

“Donna and I were engaged. Sort of,” Riley amended with a pang of regret. They’d just accepted that they would always be together. “She got killed last month in a robbery. She was a detective in the Chicago Police Department.”

“I’m sorry,” Sammy said.

“We met under very strange circumstances,” Riley told her. He remembered flying up to Chicago, chasing after the dangerous creatures that had escaped from a lab in western Tennessee, and being greeted by Giannini, the detective assigned to the case. “Kind of like how you and I met,” he said.

‘Tell me about it,” Sammy said, her eyes now fully open.

Riley launched into the story, telling her about genetically engineered killing machines called Synbats, which he had pursued through the woods of Tennessee and into tunnels under Chicago. When he was done, Sammy was fully alert, and he felt they should get moving again. They could leave Conner and Devlin behind and move ahead on their own. Riley could feel the time clock going. How far ahead were the Koreans?

But he was exhausted, and his own body was close to being hypothermic. His hands were already flirting with frostbite. Aw, fuck it, Riley decided — even as another part of his mind screamed no — an hour or two of rest would be worth it if they could move faster. He hugged Sammy tighter and closed his eyes, feeling her head nestle against his shoulder.

The flight deck of the Kitty Hawk was packed with rows of aircraft. F-14 Tomcats, E-2 Hawkeyes, S-3A Vikings, F-18 Hornets, and A-7 Corsairs competed for valuable parking space. On the port side of that crowded deck, the elevator from the first-level hangar lifted into place smoothly, bringing up another aircraft. It was the only one of its kind on the carrier.

The most unusual thing immediately noticeable about the aircraft was that the two engines at the end of each wing were pointing straight up, with massive propellers horizontal to the gray steel deck. The aircraft remained on the elevator as it came to a halt. Slowly, the two blades began turning in opposite directions.

After a minute of run-up, the aircraft shuddered and the wheels separated from the deck. Sliding slightly left, the aircraft gained altitude as the swiftly moving ship passed beneath it. At sufficient height, the propellers slowly changed orientation, moving from horizontal to vertical as the entire engine rotated and the airframe switched from helicopter mode to airplane. When the engine nacelles on the wing tips locked into place facing forward, the CV-22 Osprey caught up with the Kitty Hawk and passed it, racing toward Antarctica, 1,900 miles away.

The tilt rotor operation of the Osprey made it the most valuable and unique transport aircraft ever built. Congressional budget cuts and interservice squabbling had killed the program back in 1990, but this particular aircraft was one of eight produced by Bell-Boeing during the original prototype construction. The eight, flown by Marine Corps pilots, had been deployed to the various carrier groups to allow maximum flexibility of use. That innovative deployment idea was now paying dividends.

Secretary of Defense Torreta did not seem pleased to be sitting in the situation room at ten o’clock at night after a flight back from the West Coast. General Morris ran a hand along the stubble of his beard as the secretary gestured for him to continue with his situation update.

“The Combat Talon is three hours out from McMurdo Base. The Osprey has just taken off from the Kitty Hawk; it will arrive at McMurdo in five hours. The Special Forces soldiers will cross load to the Osprey and fly out to the target site.”

“We still have no imagery of what happened there?” Torreta inquired.

“No, sir. The weather is clearing, but the site itself is still cloud covered. We have a viewing opportunity by satellite only every three hours as it passes over.”

Torreta glanced at the notes his aide had prepared for him. “What’s the problem in Korea?”

Morris frowned at the change in subject. “Intelligence has picked up enough North Korean activity to justify a level three alert.”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” Torreta replied testily. “But what’s this message regarding the Kitty Hawk Carrier Group from the Eighth Army commander?”

Morris hated airing service conflicts in front of civilians. “General Patterson wants the group to move north to be in better position to support him if something occurs on the peninsula.”

“Does the man understand we have a nuclear problem?” Torreta demanded.

“No, sir. That information is under a need-to-know basis.”

“Well, I don’t want to see any more messages like this. One problem at a time. The president is not happy. He’s already had to talk to the Russian president about this incident, and that proved to be somewhat embarrassing since he doesn’t have all the answers himself. I want this mess secured and cleaned up. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Morris had long ago learned not to argue with his civilian superiors, but he strongly disagreed with the present prioritizing of events. This Korean thing was much more significant than Torreta thought. Since the breakup of the Warsaw Pact and the quick victory in the Gulf, many people were getting complacent about the potential for war. Korea had been hot for more than forty years, and sooner or later the smoldering below the surface would break out into flames.

Morris looked over his shoulder at the electronic wall map displaying significant military — U.S. and foreign — deployments throughout the world. He had a feeling he was missing something very important.