Jaunt (8 page)

Despite this, the skull remained unknown. Although she had been encouraged to discover its genus or species, Marlane hesitated to create a new label for the specimen, especially if it was extraterrestrial, which would have to be debated by all the world’s primatologists before she’d even get a paper released. She had been witness to—and nearly part of—many groups who had employed a new find to try to gain prestige by creating exotic, but ultimately worthless, nomenclatures.

“Right now,” she said, “we’re performing cell analysis. Hopefully, we will also find some fossilized protein chains in the remnants of ligaments, or perhaps some other biomolecular systems, to do a full genome and proteome, or at least partial ones.”

De Lis clapped her shoulder. “Good work, Carol. Take a break every so often, would you?” He smiled at her, hoping his conviviality would boost her confidence.

Marlane managed a grin, but it was all that her exhausted muscles could achieve. Her reputation was her stamina—which was nearly boundless—but this case was one of only a few that had brought her to her knees. The usual fuel of choice was coffee, but even that had failed her. For reasons unknown, it seemed like time itself was slowly sapping her strength.

Dark Horse coughed in his hand before releasing the latest reports to Gilmour and Mason. The two agents, who had days ago fully mastered the content and form of the less-thansmooth reading of the DoD’s reports, eagerly digested the data while Colonel Dark Horse relayed updates from Washington.

Contrary to the media clips praising the St. Petersburg summit as a first step to a thawing of relations between East and West—the usual hyperbole—the DoD thought less highly of the President’s trip. So less that half the North Pacific Fleet’s submarine units had been dispatched to secure various positions in the Pacific Ocean in anticipation of renewed Confederation maneuvers, thanks to the confidence gained in part by their Premier’s webcasted flag waving.

Dark Horse replayed the President delivering his rhetoric concerning arsenal downsizing, promises to deter future weapons development, pledges to the peoples of the Confederation of full North American support (whatever that meant), and North America’s willingness to cooperate with the civilized Eastern nations in rebuilding the shattered global economy.

The lieutenant colonel was brutally honest: the President may as well have stayed home. Showing newly processed images obtained from the subterranean Sudbury Quantum Laboratory, Dark Horse ably demonstrated that the Russians had accelerated their neutronic particle production. A dozen green points on the holobook represented key sites across the Confederation frontier where neutronic particle decay had been emitted, leaving deadly fingerprints. Stockpiling enough particles to detonate a bomb would take only a matter of months.

The summit, at second glance, had dissolved down to nothing more than empty promises and breast beating. Unfortunately for de Lis’ team, they were in the middle of this mess. Retrieving the specimens from Nepal had been highly dangerous, and had the Confederation known that the North American government had brokered a hush-hush deal with the CAC, war would become even more imminent. The freedom of the world seemed to be increasingly in their unsteady, and untested, palms.

Week one at U5 was over.

Gilmour and Mason rushed through the dark corridor, putting their jackets and ties on for the hastily adjourned briefing called by de Lis. The doctor had promised never to call on such short notice—only ten minutes—but he had insisted that this situation was of the utmost importance. So, the two agents scrambled from their quarters at oh-five-forty-five, their morning breakfast still an hour in the future.

Once let inside to the theoretical studies lab, Gilmour and Mason headed for the junior staff gathering at the closed door to de Lis’ office. The senior staff were confering with de Lis inside, nodding their heads as he spoke.

Crossing over to his door, de Lis opened it and said, “Thank you all for coming swiftly. Colonel Dark Horse a major break to announce, a find that might shift the course of our investigation. Colonel.”

Dark Horse stepped out from behind de Lis, holding a holobook. “NorthPacCom has informed the DoD of a significant find, discovered at oh-thirty-one hours this morning. According to the Global Security Network, two craters have been discovered in the Northern Hemisphere, each matching the characteristics of the crater discovered some eleven days ago in Nepal.”

“Here we go again,” Mason whispered into Gilmour’s ear.

“After pinpointing the exact coordinates,” Dark Horse continued, “NorthPacCom has verified the first crater to be lying off the coast of Russia, in the Okhotsk Sea.” The lieutenant colonel scrolled down further. “The second crater, or third, total, if you will, is believed to be in Northeast Russia. Precise coordinates will be forthcoming.”

Two more craters, Gilmour thought, each again buried deeply inside Russia’s backyard. The recovery of similar specimens at the sites by the Russian government, if they did indeed harbor the same objects, would seal the world’s fate. Armed with both the awesome power of the neutronic bomb, and the seemingly infinite possibilities of the bizarre jewels, the Russians could conceivably conquer the planet in a matter of months, or weeks.

Damn, wasn’t this ever going to get easier?

De Lis spoke again, “As you can see, the developments today will force us to change our priorities. Agents Gilmour and Mason,” he said, looking to the back of the crowd of scientists, “this is your area. I want your expertise in developing our strategy.”

“I assume we’re going to go after the craters, Doctor?” Gilmour asked.

“We have no choice. The Confederation’s already beaten us just by virtue of having the craters in their neck of the woods.”

“I thought we’d agree.” He nodded, glancing at Mason before returning his eyes to those of the senior staff. “Let’s get to work.”

Gilmour and Mason seated themselves at the table of U5-29, armed with holobooks while de Lis, Valagua, Waters, Dark Horse, Marlane, Roget, and Quintanilla sat next to them. Finally in the environment of their training and vocation, Gilmour and Mason truly felt like members of the Ottawa team, and they intended to take full advantage of this unforeseen opportunity to pull off the mission
their
way.

“If we may, Doctor,” Gilmour started, “Agent Mason and myself have various contacts throughout the IIA capable of dealing with covert missions such as this. Missions that are not...kosher, if you read me.”

De Lis understood perfectly. “Get Colonel Dark Horse a list. He’ll take care of the rest.”

“All right. Colonel, I’m sure the DoD will be requesting a mission profile from me and Agent Mason. Give us an hour, and we can have one to you, also.”

“Understood.”

Mason scrolled through the data on his holobook. “The first objective will most likely be to attempt a retrieval of specimens from the Russian landfall sight. Of all the craters sites discovered so far, this one will be the most hazardous, if only because the Confederation can access it rather easily and give us all kinds of trouble. Doctor, Colonel, I recommend that this briefing be allocated the highest security clearance. This won’t be legal by anyone’s means.”

De Lis glanced at Colonel Dark Horse. “The colonel has arranged for that. We can speak freely.”

“Good.” Mason leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the conference table.

“This is where the fun part begins.”

Mason scrolled up the page again, reading this paragraph for the third time in the last five minutes. Staying up to finish a DoD report was never as much fun as catching the cineweb, but business always took first prize for his attention.

He heard a commotion that reawakened his senses, driving him to the door of his quarters. Several stern voices echoed loudly in the corridor, each talking over the other. Unlocking his door, he spied a group of MPs racing past his quarters, sidearms drawn.

Mason threw a semi-appropriate button-down shirt over his head and ran into the corridor. Gilmour, who also appeared to have just been roused, met him in the hall outside of his quarters.

“What’s happening?”

Mason started down the corridor. “Something big!”

The two agents could hear the MPs gathering at the entrance to U5-1, just around the turn of the corridor. Behind them, appearing less urgent, were Valagua, Marlane and Waters. Coming around, Gilmour and Mason saw that de Lis and Dark Horse had already beaten them to the main offices. A sergeant at the entrance quietly relayed information to the chief scientist and the DoD representative, while five Marine MPs swarmed inside.

On the other side of the corridor, Quintanilla and Roget were just now meeting up with de Lis. The two agents and the three senior scientists were halted with an outstretched palm by the lead MP.

Waters walked between Mason and Gilmour. “Richard, what’s going on?”

De Lis shook his head. “Can’t talk now.”

“Richard!” Waters protested before the lead Marine cleared her out of the way.

All heads turned to the side to see five new MPs escorting a medevac team down the hall towards them. Marching in rhythm, the new wave of MPs had brought with them holo-imagers, presumably to catalog whatever had transpired inside the lab. The MPs entered the main offices in single file, summarily relieving the first squad. Without warning, these MPs cordoned off the entrance, forming a shield with their armor and weapons, which prevented the project scientists from even seeing their own workplace.

Upon finishing with the MPs, the Marine sergeant took hold of de Lis’ arm and whispered into the doctor’s ear, away from the inquisitive assemblage. The conversation was one-sided, and de Lis nodded several times, as if receiving instructions from a PR rep.

Before this incident, de Lis had appeared haggard to begin with; the agents wondered if he had caught any rest at all the last few weeks. Remarkably, though, he must have had an iron will. During their duty hours, de Lis was quite alert and spritely, always exuding his enthusiasm for the research. Hell, he nearly out-hiked them all in Nepal.

But this development couldn’t be weighing easily on his soul. Tensions were already prevalent due to the political situation, and de Lis’ department had been tearing apart in the wake of the recent troubles. Now, this had occurred, leaving the project in jeopardy if the DoD had decided the risk was too great to carry on in the traditional fashion.

A final nod from de Lis sent the lead MP on his way, allowing the doctor to rejoin his staff. The doctor eyed the scouring Marines inside the lab offices as he passed, and motioned for the scientists and agents to step a few paces out of earshot.

The group encircled their leader. De Lis glanced back to the MPs before saying,

“There’s been an incident in the lab....” he jerked his thumb back to the entrance, “All we can ascertain is that U5-5 has been left unsecured.”

“The Lockbox?” Waters blurted, incredulously.

De Lis wiped his forehead before inhaling deeply. “Again, we don’t know. Trust me, all I want to do is get in there and see what’s been contained, but I’m not allowed access until the preliminary investigation has been completed.”

“When will that be, Richard?” Roget asked.

“Whenever they decide. Until then, we should try to keep our nerves calmed.”

De Lis’ advice was met with a chorus of sighs and groans, most notably from Waters.

“Look, we’re going to have to deal with this.” De Lis’ skin wore a dark pallor, much like a man held prisoner. “Everyone take a few hours of rest, and meet...” he paused to check his wristwatch, “in U5-29 at oh-eight-hundred. All right?”

Grumbles and the nearest approximations of acknowledgements came from the group as they split up, less than certain that the security of the world was anything they were capable of controlling.

Sleep will revive, food will save, Gilmour believed. The nonstop race towards deciphering the secrets of their finds had sapped his strength, and only a slight indulgence in his two passions could restore his soul. Despite the alarming incident during the early hours of the morning, Gilmour was refreshed and ready for de Lis’ briefing in U5-29.

Everyone seated themselves in their customary chairs, all arriving with holobooks. The scientists looked clear-eyed, but Gilmour and Mason detected hints of dreariness in their spirits, save for Dark Horse, true to the military man he was. This lingering uncertainty in the mission projected itself strongly into the spirits of the Ottawa scientists; they all needed de Lis’ encouragement and support to reinforce their confidence, work ethic and pride.

De Lis stood at the head of the table, behind his usual seat. His normally reserve, calm manner was replaced by a sense of uneasiness, no doubt influenced by the gravity of his forthcoming report.

He rested his hands against the back of the chair. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve just finished a long web conversation with Secretary McKennitt and Solicitor General Rauchambau. Suffice it to say, they’re not pleased with this morning’s incident.”

Several of the staff grumbled among themselves.

He raised his hands in defense. “I know—I know what you think. They’re politicians. But they’re also the ones who cut the checks, and without them, our research wouldn’t be possible. They have called for tighter security measures, which I believe are necessary. I know we all agree on that issue.”

The assembled group nodded and voiced their positive opinions.

De Lis sat down, finally relieving himself of his most pressing task. “Excellent. Now that we’ve covered that, the DoD has authorized us to inform you of the event this morning. Colonel, your report.”