The Rock

TUNGUSKA

After Pencak was escorted away by a marine to get some sleep after her long journey from America, the team was left to consider the information and theories she had imparted. Hawkins looked around the room, trying to judge by the expressions where each stood. Levy maintained her wide-eyed, deep-in-thought look. Fran's face intimated nothing. Batson was shaking his head to himself slightly. Lamb was looking at a file folder with a secret cover sheet he'd just been handed by the marine, ignoring everyone.

"Any comments?" Hawkins asked.

As he'd expected, Batson was the first to voice his opinion. "I don't buy it."

"What don't you buy?" Lamb looked up from his papers.

"The conclusion Dr. Pencak has drawn from the available data. To begin with, a lot of her analysis is flawed." Batson walked over to the map on the wall. "She's linking together these sites because of the transmission. Then she's explaining the craters at or near the sites as having been caused by nuclear explosions. But it is just as likely that they were caused by meteors, based on the scientific studies made of each site. I should know that-geology is my field of expertise and I've studied several of those sites."

His finger slid across the map. "Campo del Cielo is estimated to have been formed a good twenty thousand years before Meteor Crater in Arizona. And Ries Basin and the Vredefort Dome complex well before that. We're talking a span of many millennia."

"Thousands of years to us might seem like just a few years to an alien culture," Levy quietly replied.

Batson snorted in irritation. "If you think that way, then you can say any damn thing you want to. If extraterrestrials had built something on Earth so long ago, don't you think we would have had some sort of contact with them before now?"

"Maybe we have," Levy said. "The data on that is incomplete. Certainly there are a multitude of reported sightings of-"

"Hold on." Lamb held up a hand. "Let's not get too far astray and start discussing whether UFO's exist."

"I agree," Batson said. "I think everything we need to know to understand what is going on is here right in front of our noses but we aren't looking at it from the proper perspective. People always have a tendency to make problems much more complicated than they really are."

Fran spoke for the first time. "So what perspective should we take, Don?"

Batson shrugged. "I'm not sure. Let's assume the six locations are connected, but not in the way Dr. Pencak said they were."

"You mean no aliens?" Fran asked. "But who would have put something in the Rock, then? We're back to square one."

"Not really," Lamb interjected. He flipped open one of his ever-present file folders. "I think for the first time we may have a line on who is behind all this."

Hawkins frowned. As usual they hadn't received all the necessary information up-front. "What have you got?"

Lamb gave a thin-lipped smile. "Dr. Pencak visited the former Soviet Union six times. She had a relationship with this Felix Zigorski fellow she mentioned. A relationship that spanned twenty years with quite a bit of communication between the two."

Hawkins couldn't quite imagine Pencak having a "relationship" with anyone-at least not in the way that Lamb's tone of voice indicated. But he had to admit that the Earth bogeyman was a lot more credible than an alien one. "So you're saying this is a setup?"

"It's possible-in fact, likely," Lamb replied.

"Oh, come on, now!" Fran exploded. "Are we going to see the Soviet Union behind every tree? Hell, the country doesn't even exist anymore. Being paranoid is what's gotten us to the crappy state of affairs the world is in right now. Besides, the Rock-whatever is in the Rock-hasn't done anything threatening."

"It took out Voyager 2," Hawkins reminded her.

"All right." Fran ceded the point, then twisted it. "But how could the Russians have destroyed Voyager 2 and why?" She looked at Batson. "I don't agree that we have everything we need to know to figure this out. We need to get inside that chamber in the Rock. And even then I'm not sure we'll know what is going on."

"There's something else," Lamb said.

They all turned and looked as he laid out a large glossy photograph on the tabletop. "This is satellite imagery of Tunguska, taken less than ten hours ago."

They crowded around and peered down. Used to dealing with such enhanced photos Hawkins quickly made sense of what he was seeing. Large tarps were stretched over a piece of land in the middle of the pine trees that filled the photo. Snow covered the trees and earth but not the tarps, indicating they were recent additions. Fresh gouges in the snow showed where heavy equipment had torn new roads through the forest.

"You have thermal on this?" Hawkins asked.

In response Lamb slapped down another photo. In this one the forest was a mass of blue, but the area where the tarps were blazed bright red. "They've got heavy machinery under those tarps working very hard to be so hot," Hawkins explained to the others who were looking at him questioningly.

"Where is that exactly?" Fran asked.

"Dead center of where the Tunguska meteorite was supposed to have exploded." Lamb pointed at the normal-light photo. "If you look closely you can see old deadfall blown outward between some of the trees, just like Pencak described it. Also note the piles of freshly uprooted trees here, here, and here. And the pile of earth and snow here."

He put another photo down and looked at Hawkins. "We caught this at one point. What do you make of it?"

Hawkins leaned over and studied it. He could make out several vehicles-bulldozers, armored personal carriers, and dump trucks-parked around the tarp. Men were crouched on the sides of the vehicles away from the tarp. "They're blasting."

Lamb nodded. "Correct."

Fran was the first to verbalize what the others were realizing. "They've found their Rock!"

"And they're not wasting time digging through the frozen tundra," Batson commented. "They're blasting. They're trying to get to it as quickly as possible."

"We think they've already gotten to it," Lamb said. "Latest imagery shows the earth-moving equipment parked out from under the cover of the tarps. Thermals show numerous generators running underneath but no other equipment working."

"How large an area is covered?" Hawkins asked.

"Two hundred meters by a hundred and fifty."

Fran spoke slowly, sorting her thoughts out. "If the Russians are digging up something similar to what we have here in the Rock, then Pencak is right. The most likely source is extraterrestrial."

Lamb shook his head. "They certainly have found it quick enough. My analysts think they may have abandoned something out there and suddenly discovered a need for it."

"Oh, come on!" Fran shook her head. "You're grasping at straws so you can find a known enemy you can focus on."

Lamb eyed her coldly. "That's what I'm paid to do. Dr. Pencak says she was all over that area but they didn't find anything. Seems very convenient. Of course, the Russians were supervising the whole expedition, so maybe they steered them in the wrong direction. Or maybe she did see something and is lying."

"She also said that they didn't do any digging because of the frozen tundra," Batson noted.

Lamb stabbed a finger at the pictures. "They're digging now."

Hawkins held up a hand. "The critical question is, what have they found-or rediscovered?"

Lamb looked up and met Hawkins's eyes, and in that moment Hawkins knew what the other man was going to say next. He felt a churning anxiety begin in his stomach.

Lamb started picking up the folders. "We should know very soon what's under that cover."

"How?" Batson was perplexed.

"When did they go in?" Hawkins asked, his voice tight.

Lamb looked at his watch. "Four hours ago."

Hawkins quickly calculated in his mind. Several hours before dawn in Siberia. "How?"

"Combat Talon originating out of Pakistan. Low-level flight across western China. Over Mongolia and LALO almost on top of the target site."

Hawkins knew that was the only way to get in there without getting caught: low altitude, low-opening parachute-drop out of the Air Force's deep-penetration special-operations' modified C-130. "Did you get an initial entry report?"

Lamb nodded. "They're on the ground in the proper place and everyone is all right."

"Who?"

"Richman, Brown, and Lee."

Hawkins winced-he and Richman had been the two original forming members of Orion. He was also the acting commander, with Hawkins spinning his wheels out here in the desert. On top of that practical consideration, though, was a personal one: Lou Richman was his best friend, the man who had seen him through the accident and all those years sitting in the hospital at Mary's bedside.

"What are you two talking about?" Fran demanded.

Hawkins turned to look at her. "We should know very shortly what is under those tarps. Three men from my team jumped into Tunguska to take a look."

Fran blinked. "Into Siberia?"

Lamb tapped the satellite photos. "Despite all our technology there are some things that only a man on the ground can do. One of them is tell us what the Russians have dug up under that cover. I had recon teams forward-based as close as possible to all transmission reception sites as soon as we triangulated them. I ordered the Tunguska team in when we saw that the Russians were working there. I've also got teams on the ground in Germany, Arizona, and Argentina. The one for South Africa is on board a carrier task force in the South Atlantic."

"When is Richman's estimated TOT? Time on target," Hawkins added for the benefit of Fran, Batson, and Levy.

"They went in four klicks away. They estimated two hours to get a visual sighting on the target." Lamb glanced at his watch again. "Anytime now."

Hawkins turned and pointed to Levy. "Tell him what you found about the previous transmissions after nuclear blasts."

Lamb looked confused. "What previous transmissions?"

Levy succinctly went through the information. When she was done, Hawkins leaned forward, getting close to Lamb. "Now, if there were transmissions out of the Rock in 1945, that sort of casts doubts on your Russian theory, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't matter," Lamb said. "If the Russians have uncovered whatever is there, we need to know."

Tunguska

"This is fucked, boss man," Lee whispered to Richman. Lee had his slight frame crammed under a dead tree, his MPS submachine gun pointing out, taking security on that side. His night-vision goggles were hardly necessary, due to the reflected glow from the high-power lights under the tarp less than fifty meters away. Brown was to Richman's left, covering the other side.

Richman didn't bother answering. He agreed, but telling his two teammates wouldn't do much for whatever little morale they might have left. The jump had been bad enough-letting the drogue chute of their parachutes suck them off the back ramp of the Talon at less than two hundred feet-barely enough time for the specially designed low-altitude main chute to deploy before they crashed into the upper branches of three pine trees.

Luckily their hazardous-terrain protective gear had worked as intended and they'd all managed to climb down to ground level and assemble without injury. It had been a nightmare moving across the frozen tundra to the target, climbing and slipping over snow-covered deadfall, the freezing night air clawing into their bones. They'd spotted the lights a half hour earlier and spent the time slowly working their way in closer. The thickly packed pine trees surrounding the target were great camouflage, along with the pitch-black night. They'd already slipped past two rings of security. Richman had had a Russian soldier almost step on top of him forty meters back. Fortunately, the Russians were not equipped with night-vision goggles.

Richman tried focusing his PVS7 night-vision goggles on what was under the overhead cover. There were several tents set up, smoke billowing out of their stovepipes at the edge of a large pit. Richman estimated the temperature to be about twenty below, which helped explain the lack of people moving around who absolutely didn't have to. He could see three guards armed with AK-74 automatic rifles standing near steel grating that sloped down out of sight into the hole the Russians had just recently dug.

"We're going to have to go in," he whispered to Lee, then Brown. It was a credit to their discipline and belief in him as their team leader that neither uttered a word of protest. He reached inside his white parka and flicked on the portable SATCOM radio strapped to his back.

Ayers Rock

"HOW ARE THEY GETTING OUT?" Hawkins asked.

"MH53 Pave Low helicopter," Lamb replied.

"Bullshit," Hawkins fumed. "They're in too far for the Pave Low." He pointed at the world map they'd been using to locate the transmission sites. "It's almost two thousand miles from Pakistan to Tunguska."

"It'll have a Talon escort for in-flight refueling," Lamb patiently replied.

Hawkins wasn't pleased with that answer, but there was nothing he could do-a feeling he was uncomfortably used to.

A marine appeared in the doorway. "We have communications with Phoenix, sir."

"Switch it in here," Lamb ordered as he turned on the SATCOM radio set up on top of the table.

There was a brief hiss of static from the speaker and then a voice could clearly be heard whispering, "I say again. Angel, this is Phoenix. Over."

Lamb keyed the microphone. "Phoenix, this is Angel. Over."

"Roger. We're about fifty meters from the edge of the tarps. We can't see down into the pit, so we're going to move in closer. Out." The radio went dead.

"We'd have known in twenty-four hours what's in the chamber in the Rock," Hawkins said. "Why did you have to put those men on the ground?"

Lamb kept his eyes focused on the radio. "Because we need to know what's there now. Twenty-four hours may be too late."

Tunguska

Richman could hear voices talking loudly in Russian as he slid along the back side of one of the tents, weapon held at the ready. Lee was right behind, covering him. Brown was back in the tree line with the Stoner machine gun to provide support fire. A conveyer belt was set up about twenty feet to Richman's right front, leading over the edge of the pit. Richman decided that would be the best place for him to see in without being spotted by security.

Using hand signals he indicated for Lee to stay by the tent and cover him. Richman lowered himself into the mushy snow and low-crawled forward, keeping an eye on a bundled-up guard standing near the edge of the pit to his left. He jammed himself under the stanchions holding up the conveyer belt where it turned from vertical to horizontal and caught his breath. He looked back. He couldn't see where Brown was in the tree line and, shifting his eyes closer, Lee was nothing more than a dark shadow against the tent.

Richman turned his gaze to the pit and down. As his eyes focused on what was down there, he blinked and tried to make sense of it.

"Angel this is Phoenix. Over."

Hawkins could tell Richman must be in an extremely exposed position because he was barely whispering into his mike. Hawkins's heart was thumping more quickly than it would if he were there himself. A drop of sweat slipped over his upper lip and splashed against his chest unnoticed.

"Phoenix, this is Angel. What have you got? Over."

"I don't know." There was a pause, during which Lamb looked at Hawkins as if to blame him for his man's confusion. Richman's voice came back, low and tentative. "The hole is about forty meters around and thirty meters deep. In the center there's a half sphere with a flat face on this side. The outside seems to be some sort of metal that doesn't reflect light but the side that faces me, it's-well-it's just this black wall. But it's not a wall. I don't know what it's made of. It's sort of shimmering. The Russians have video cameras and other instruments facing the wall. There's something strange about the wall. Over."

"What's strange about it? Over." Lamb was gripping the mike tightly.

Richman's voice was tense. "It's not… well, it's not like anything I've ever seen. It doesn't look solid. Over."

"What are the Russians doing? Over."

"Hard to tell. There are some boom arms that look like they might be used to push something through-maybe a video camera or some other sensor, but I can't tell if they've been used. I don't think… wait one-there's some movement up here. I need my hands. I'm going to lock down on transmit. I'm going on FM too."

Hawkins gripped the back of the chair next to the table where he was standing. Richman was now broadcasting to his two partners on FM radio as well as on the SATCOM. Hawkins could hear some rustling as Richman moved. The man's breathing sounded loudly through the speaker. When he spoke it surprised everyone. "There's a patrol moving out. I think they're changing guard shifts. Lee, they're coming up on you. Shit." The last word was said sharply.

Two seconds later the deep roar of automatic weapons resounded through the tent, startling Fran and Levy.

A new voice sounded tinnily-Lee as heard by Richman over the FM radio and fed back into the SATCOM. "I've got four down. Two still moving. Let's get the fuck out of here, boss man."

Richman's voice was hurried and short of breath. "We've got tracers out of the north. Brown, you got them? I'm going to try and disengage. Lee, to the right! The right!" Richman was screaming now. A deeper roar sounded in a long-held burst. Hawkins recognized the sound of the Stoner-Brown firing in support.

A deep grunt-Lee. "I'm hit, boss man. Two, maybe three rounds. Chest. Right arm. I can't move."

"I'll get you. Hang tight. I'll get you. Cover me, Brown."

The crump of an explosion and a scream that was cut off. Hawkins looked up. Fran's face was white. Batson looked stunned. He couldn't tell what the expression on Lamb's face was as he held the useless microphone.

"Brown's dead." Richman's voice was labored. "I confirm. Brown is dead. They blew the shit out of the tree line." He grunted and they heard Lee's sharp intake of breath. Dimly Hawkins could hear the soft chugging of Richman's silenced submachine gun spewing out death. "I've got Lee. I'm pulling back into the pit. They're all around us. I'd say they got at least a company's worth."

Over a hundred men closing in. Hawkins stared at the radio, wishing he were anywhere but here.

"We're down the ramp." Richman's voice sounded loudly. "Hey, buddy. Come on, buddy. Don't lose it on me." A roar of semiautomatic fire. "Fuck!" Richman screamed. Hawkins heard a long, sustained rattling of the sub firing and then the distinctive sound as Richman switched magazines. "Time to don berets and stack magazines."

Hawkins winced. That was a grim joke between him and his team members. They'd always talked about what they would do if caught in a hopeless situation. Surrender was out of the question. Any person-no matter how well trained-could be made to talk, and the men and women of Orion knew too much to have that happen. Hawkins had been the one to say that that was the time to put on the green beret most of them had worn when they were in Special Forces and stack magazines for ready access and fight it out to the death. The fact that Richman was wearing a sterile uniform and didn't have a beret didn't matter.

"Lee's dead. That last burst got him. I'm down to two mags. They're in no rush. They know they've got me cornered. I think they're worried about shooting up their equipment down here, otherwise I'd be Swiss cheese. Maybe they're worried about hitting the black wall." There was a short pause. "Angel, I don't know who you are, but tell my wife I love her and always will."

Hawkins wanted to grab the mike from Lamb and assure Richman he would, but there was no way they could talk to him-once Richman had gone hot with his mike he could only transmit, not receive.

"Fuck dying in this hole!" Richman's voice was strong. "I'm moving." They could hear him as he ran, the thunder of the Russians firing, and Hawkins recognized the flat crack of near misses. "I'm going to-"

The transmission cut off in mid-sentence. The signal was gone. Lamb slowly placed the mike down on the tabletop.

"You've got a shimmering black wall." Hawkins spoke with barely restrained anger. "Was that worth three good men?"