The Nexus Colony (7 page)

Whatever reservations Abbott might have had, they dissipated quickly. Abbott still wasn’t quite sure what his role was going to be, but he now knew it had something to do with high tech stuff. Like Abbott, Lisk was a former Blue Beret from a bygone era. He was the best in the force when it came to technology and computers. Korbett quietly pondered over the fact that there was no youth in this room. But there was one hell of load of intellect and physical stamina.

Korbett escorted Abbott around the room to make the formal introductions. Though awkward, Prall and Abbott at least acknowledged each other, more so for Korbett’s sake, though they were sure he knew it. The Major’s name was Donnie Monroe. He didn’t say anything, but shook Abbott’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip. The other man’s name was Peter Almshouse, and Abbott sensed that he was going to like the man from the start. He seemed to have a very amiable disposition.

“Gentlemen,” Korbett said, the introductions quickly over. “Down to business. Please be seated.”

They all knew the protocol. Positioning themselves in front of the briefing packets, they waited for the General to begin.

“Break your seals, please,” Korbett said, to which they all reacted in unison.

Abbott read the first page inside the folder.

He began reading the rest of the document.

For the next ten minutes, the men read in silence. The document was similar to the dispatch Korbett had received two days earlier, except the mission objective was elaborated upon to a greater extent. While they read, Korbett readied the laptop and lowered the screen from the ceiling. It was obvious to Abbott that the General had a number of reconnaissance photos. As he read further into the document, Abbott’s interest was piqued.
So,
he thought.
Alien artifacts. We’re going looking for aliens at the south pole. That’s what Bill meant by Arctic survival.

When they had all finished, Korbett said, “First, let me brief you on why each of you have been chosen for the field team.”

Korbett went around the table beginning with Abbott. “Colonel Abbott will be the team leader.” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. Abbott knew it was for effect and to let Prall know in no uncertain terms that he, Abbott, was the commanding officer. Korbett continued. “In his demise, Al Lisk will assume that responsibility.”

Korbett intentionally did not refer to Lisk’s military ranking, which was Lieutenant Colonel, one rank below Prall. It brought a visible frown of disapproval on Prall’s face, but Korbett looked him straight in the eye and said, “Mr. Lisk will fall next in the chain of command for one very good reason. This is a scientific research mission, not a military operation. As long as it remains as such, the chain of command will be as such.” Which was bullshit, and Prall knew Korbett knew it. Korbett expected
that
to change when Prall made a few phone calls. But in the meantime…

He paused for a moment. Prall was unmoved. Korbett continued, “Colonel Prall…you and Major Monroe have been assigned to this mission for logistical support should the need arise. I fully expect that both of you will defer to Colonel Abbott in all matters that will affect the outcome of the mission objective.” Korbett didn’t have to add,
Do you understand?

Prall’s face still remained expressionless. Abbott looked at him. The mutual dislike between these men went back a long way. Air Force and Army Special Forces personnel never got along anyway, but this went far beyond that. Delta Force meant nothing, either. This was purely personal, and went all the way back to Central America, and even before that on a mission to Sakhalin Island back in the 70’s. But it was pointless to dwell on it. Abbott turned his full attention back to the General.

“…Colonel Abbott, in the event any of you do not already know, has participated in a number of other projects with extraterrestrial implications. I’ve determined that experience to be invaluable. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here yet, gentlemen, and the Department feels more comfortable with Colonel Abbott at the helm since he’s had some experience with crash retrievals.” Korbett paused for a moment. His words, as always, carried finality.

“Mr. Lisk will provide the necessary technical expertise,” Korbett continued. “AR-1 evidently is some sort of control box, but as of now, we still don’t have the faintest clue as to what it controls. If we…you, find a craft, no doubt we’ll find some pretty sophisticated technology. Mr. Lisk…,” Korbett nodded, “…is remotely familiar with some of the previously retrieved gadgetry.”

Lisk nodded agreement.

“And by the way, Al,” Korbett said aside, “when we’re done here, they’re going to give you an additional briefing on everything they’ve found out so far in case you stumble onto something new.”

“Yes, sir,” Lisk responded.

“Mr. Almshouse,” Korbett continued again, pausing and smiling at the man. Abbott sensed that General Korbett liked the individual as well. “Peter works for one of my colleagues here on the U.S. team. Peter hasn’t participated in field activities before to this degree, but I’m certain you all will take very good care of him. Dr. Almshouse is a historian by profession, but his real expertise lies in the fields of exobiology and archaeo-astronomy. Specifically, he has been studying artifacts for years, as limited as they are. I think it’s quite obvious why I’ve chosen Peter.”

“Colonel Prall and Major Monroe,” Korbett said, pausing. “Your primary responsibility will lie in maintaining security in the event the team finds anything that may jeopardize national security. Gentlemen, I do not think you need further elaboration.” Korbett placed his hands on the table. “Are there any questions at this point?”

Abbott asked what was undoubtedly on everyone’s mind. “Who else is going out in the field with us?” None of them knew anything about trekking in Antarctica, and the prospect was disquieting even to the survival experts at the table. It was downright frightening to Peter Almshouse who hated cold weather anyway.

“My next topic, Marsh,” Korbett replied. “We’ve got on retainer the lead mountaineer at McMurdo Station. Just for your information, about half of the population of McMurdo is support personnel who work for an outfit called Antarctic Support Systems. They’re under contract to the National Science Foundation which runs the scientific show at the base. Actually on the whole continent for the United States. This fellow’s a German by birth, but very Americanized, they tell me. Name’s Michael Ruger. Been working for the NSF for several years. Real outdoor rugged type. They say he’s the best. More importantly, he’s the fellow who was guiding the team that found the artifacts. As a matter of fact, it was Ruger who found the box.”

“Is he cleared?” Prall asked, referring to whether the man had a security clearance.

“No,” Korbett answered bluntly. “We don’t have much of a choice but to take him along.”

Prall leaned forward. “Can he be trusted?”

Korbett, obviously annoyed at Prall’s brashness, leaned toward him. “That’s not your concern, Colonel Prall.
I’ll
take the responsibility for that.”

Prall leaned back. “Yes, sir.”

“And don’t worry, gentlemen,” Korbett continued. “On the plane ride over you’ll be getting a crash course review on polar survival.”

Almshouse was visibly relieved, and it brought a smile to his face.

“The NSF,” the General continued, “has become a minor problem. As you read in your brief, they’ve taken issue over the whole thing. They didn’t take kindly to being relieved of the artifacts. They’re insisting that this Dr. Hilliard Grimes, along with his associates, accompany us back out into the field. Of course, I’m still fighting that battle…”

“General,” Abbott interrupted, “just how much of this project has already been compromised?”

Korbett sighed, leaned back in the chair. Abbott knew that whenever Bill Korbett began to stroke his mustache he was in a dilemma. “That’s the problem, Marsh,” he replied. “We don’t know. We’re fairly confident that they aren’t aware that AR-1 is an electronic device, but…”

“…that’s the least of our worries,” Almshouse responded. Abbott sensed he was thinking right along the lines.

“What were you going to say, Peter?” Korbett said, gesturing.

“Well, correct me if I’m out of line, but it seems to me that in remote assignments, everybody
always
knows everybody’s business.”

Korbett agreed, “I don’t presently have any facts to support my concern, but I presume that by now, every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the Antarctica continent knows something about the artifacts.”

“He’s right,” Al Lisk said. “Word travels fast in remote areas. Up in Elmendorf they could tell you the date and time when each WAF had her period or took a shower.”

“Al’s right, General,” Abbott responded. “I presume McMurdo is no different.”

“Agreed,” Korbett reluctantly replied.

Abbott continued, “Then we have to go under the assumption that whoever is there when we arrive knows just about as much as we do.”

“Correct,” Korbett replied.

“Problem is,” Prall said, “is whether anybody else decides to stick their nose into it.”

Korbett nodded. “We’re checking out all the personnel right now to see who might become a problem. You’ll be getting updated dossiers on everybody as soon as they’re fully compiled. Just there for your reference. Al will have the codes for security if you want to pull it out of the computer. The one at the Base Manager’s office.”
Although I don’t know how in the hell you’re going to access it when you’re in the field
, he thought.

Prall nodded. Abbott said, “It isn’t going to matter much anyway, General.”

Korbett looked at him. “Why not?”

“Who in the hell is going to take a stroll out there to take a look? The brief says it’s three hundred miles out to the glacier.”

Korbett pondered. “We’ve got the area secured. Secure, that is, from
authorizing
anybody out there. I guess somebody could get through that we couldn’t stop.”

“I suggest,” Prall said, “that we get set up out there ASAP.”

“Any bush pilots down there?” Lisk asked.

“I presume,” Korbett responded. “Bush pilots are everywhere there’s a buck to be made. Even in Antarctica.”

“Colonel Prall’s right,” Abbott replied. “Not much we’re going to do about it at the moment, though. We’ll have to contend with it when the time comes. In the meantime…”

“…in the meantime,” Korbett broke in, “we’ll have to rely on hoping everybody is backing off until we settle this through diplomatic channels. The French and the Japanese for some reason at the moment are very interested.”

“We’ll handle it,” Prall said.

“
I’ll
handle it, if you please,” Korbett replied.

“Yes, sir.”

Korbett sighed. “The Base Manager—fellow named Jim Morrison—he seems to have a pretty good handle on those people. We’ll just have to move forward under the assumption that he’s got things under control for the moment. The real problem lies with the international issue.”

“How much power does the Department wield to keep everyone out?” Almshouse asked, innocently.

Korbett smiled, and replied, “We’ll
all
find out, Peter.”

It at least brought a chuckle from everybody, including Prall.

“Marsh…” Korbett continued, a serious expression on his face. “When you get down there, and things get out of control, you know what you have to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No compromises.”

“No, sir.” Abbott had Prall along to see to that.

“Communications,” Korbett said, leaning back in the chair. “We’ll utilize standard code ‘C’. Al can refresh your memories on the simple message content. I prefer it this way to secure code. Let ‘em read everything you send. They won’t understand what it means anyway. It might soften the appearance. You’ll have to radio everything back to McMurdo once a day. They’ll e-mail it back here. Communications won’t be instantaneous. We’ve only got satellite link-up for a few hours a day. We couldn’t be in a worse location on the goddamn planet to get intel out. Make every bit of information count.”

Korbett was referring to simple coded text that appeared like general conversation but certain phrases had hidden meanings. Not very useful for military intelligence work, but quite sufficient and effective for an operation such as this. “Any questions?” Korbett asked.

They all sat in silence.

“Good,” Korbett responded. He dimmed the lights from a console that was out of sight under the table.

The first slide on the screen was an aerial view of the Mulock Glacier from about 10,000 feet, as Korbett informed them. It was awesome, spreading out as far as the horizon. Even in photographs, Antarctica was powerful.

The next photographs in the series were various views taken from different altitudes, followed by several taken from low level flybys along the glacial surface. The group silently studied the photographs, the ruggedness of the white terrain keeping them spellbound. The geography was compelling.

The next series were graphic illustrations of the glacier’s movement through the Transantarctic Mountain Range. When the graphic slide appeared with the “AR” numbers marked in red, Korbett informed them that these were the approximate locations where the artifacts had been found. The pattern seemed random. The only apparent commonality that Abbott noticed instantly was that they were distributed along the directional flow of the glacier.

“If AR-1 is the box…” Abbott said, thinking out loud, leaning forward and contemplating.

Korbett nodded. “That’s right. The first one to your left. You on to something?”

“No. Not really.”

“It is strange, though,” Korbett said. “AR-2 through AR-4, the I-beams, are all in a line. Then the panel pieces come next. The only exception is the tool. It’s in the middle of the panels.”

“It may look random, but they’re grouped,” Monroe said. It was the first time Abbott had heard his voice. It had a deep, resonating tone, and it took Abbott by surprise. Monroe was a small man, probably no more than 150 pounds, but Abbott knew this type of individual didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Just his simple observation told Abbott everything about Major Monroe. He had a keen sense of intuitiveness and was highly analytical. This guy was all business. And Abbott was sure, no doubt, blindly devoted to Prall.