Overlord (35 page)

Dominique Vasturi, an Italian photojournalist, approached Dr. Worth from her position forward. She held a freeze-dried bag of casserole in her hand as she grabbed for the support ring close to the window. She gazed through the glass and saw Earth far below. The sun was just rising over the Asian continent as she joined the curious American.

“I take it home is still there?” She offered Greg some of the terrible tasting casserole. He grimaced and shook his head.

“God, you really don’t appreciate the planet until you can see it from this vantage point,” he said, turning away from the offered meal and the gorgeous Italian photojournalist.

The woman agreed as she zipped the Mylar bag of dry casserole closed. “Well, let’s hope the news footage we saw tonight was not the beginning of something.” She looked out of the porthole. “Because it looks like a long way to fall.”

Greg finally pulled back from the window and then glanced over at the Russian and American astronauts as they went about their business. They were soon joined by Nemi Takiyama, another guest who had arrived only three days before on the same flight as Greg.

“Are you scared—I mean, being out here?”

“I think if they attack, I would just as soon be here as there.” The Japanese scientist glanced out of the window as he floated up to the two observers.

“Okay, everyone, it’s time to power down. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” Peter Blasinov, a Russian Air Force colonel, started throwing switches that would send the expensive space station into sleep mode.

Greg frowned. The one thing he hated about being here was to be strapped into a sleeping bag–type device and hang from a wall just to get forty winks.

As the three young people moved from the window they heard a sharp alarm sound in module C-11, the next compartment down. They heard the call from one of the U.S. Air Force communications men.

“We have a hatch warning in the physical training module.”

“That can’t be, there’s no one in there.” The Russian maneuvered past the three startled people. The warning buzzer kept up its shrill call. “Shut down that alarm!”

The buzzer stopped and then they felt the entire station shudder.

“What in the hell was that?” Greg asked as he felt the shudder again. “Is it an open hatch venting gas to the outside?”

“No, we haven’t lost atmosphere.” Blasinov quickly took handholds and shot into the physical training module through the connecting tunnel. He saw immediately the hatch ring was turning. He hurriedly floated toward the hatch and tried to force the handle back into the locked position. It started to move back and then a tremendous force outside the door started moving the locking ring back to the open position. “Damn, help me, Lieutenant!” he shouted at the young American communications man. He was floating nearby and his eyes were as wide as spotlights.

“Come on, that’s impossible!”

“That seems to be a moot point at the moment. Something is forcing this seal open—now help me!”

The three young people watched from the module’s opening. Greg sprang forward, quickly traversing the exercise equipment, and then was able to take hold of the door’s locking ring located in the middle of the hatchway.

“Who’s out there?” Dominique asked.

The Japanese weather specialist floated over to assist. As he did he hit the window covering, sending it up and into the composite hull. His eyes widened as he saw just who it was that was turning the handle. He used his feet to spring backward with a small yelp of fear.

“What in the hell is that?” he yelled.

Blasinov looked up. Staring right at him was the most horrible thing he had ever seen. The Gray was helmeted but they could clearly see the yellow-ringed black eyes as they looked inside the station. The thing opened its mouth and he could swear the creature had smiled at him.

“Environmental suits and helmets, quickly!” Blasinov shouted. He fought to hold the handle closed. He was losing the battle. As he chanced another look he saw several more of the strangely dressed Grays as they floated up to the doorway. Too late, the handle turned and opened.

The atmosphere of the station vented outward with an explosive crash of passing air. Men and women were tossed and blown toward the open door. Blasinov was forced out through the three-inch gap between the hatch and the rubber seal. He was crushed as his large body was forced out into space, where it was immediately grabbed by one of the assaulting Grays.

Men and women quickly placed their helmets on in the midst of the flying paper and other debris forced into a whirlwind by the venting oxygen. The Grays opened the hatchway completely, and five of them entered the International Space Station.

Outside the large station, two of the silver-colored saucers held station. They were soon joined by a much larger alien vehicle as the station was raided.

The Gray assault on the blue planet below had begun in earnest.

UNITED STATES SPACE COMMAND

THE PENTAGON, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Major General Walter Shotz watched the monitor and his face turned white as he and two hundred radar and imaging technicians witnessed the International Space Station explode. The devastation was silent as large pieces of composite material, aluminum, and plastic arched into the black void of space.

“Get me General Caulfield on the horn and sound the incursion alarm. We have a serious attack starting on our front door,” he said as calmly as he could, as the horror of what just happened etched deeply into his brain.

9

JOHNSON SPACE CENTER

HOUSTON, TEXAS

The blue and white Bell helicopter set down easily on the pad. Admiral Carl Everett, attired in his summer whites, watched as a small crowd gathered around the NASA helipad. They looked as if they were wearing Event Group blue jumpers and for the briefest of moments he thought about home. The illusion was quickly dashed when he saw the horde of Air Police surrounding the group of men and women. He allowed the two-bladed rotors to whine down before the crew chief slid the large door open. As he reached for his seabag the crew chief took it first.

“All this will be brought to your quarters, Admiral; you are scheduled for meetings throughout the night.”

Everett nodded, then reached through the compartment and tapped the pilot on his shoulder and nodded his thanks. He stepped from the helicopter and placed his saucer cap over his blond hair and then came forward. He was quickly approached by a young woman wearing the blue coveralls bearing the NASA emblem on her left breast.

“Admiral, we expected you two days ago,” she said, saluting.

Everett returned the salute and then saw the Air Force lieutenant insignia on her collar.

“Had problems arise, as I’m sure you’ve heard, Lieutenant.” Carl moved forward as the lieutenant caught up.

“Yes, sir, it’s just that one of the propulsion engineers has been screaming bloody murder since your original arrival date came and went. He’s been a real bear, sir.”

Everett turned on the young officer. “Look, Lieutenant…?”

“Branch, sir, Evelyn Branch.”

“Branch, I couldn’t give a damn about any civilian engineer who is upset that a small alien incursion has happened and I was delayed in transit. So inform this asshole, whoever he is, he can—”

“Toad, you son of a bitch, I knew I’d get you out here sooner or later!”

Everett froze. The recent past came flooding back on him as the young lieutenant smiled and then stepped out of the way to join the rest of her team watching the anticipated reunion. Everett turned to find one of his worst nightmares staring him in the face.

United States Navy Master Chief Archibald Jenks stood leaning on a cane. He removed the stub of a cigar and made a kissing motion by pursing his lips. He finally smiled.

The last time Everett had seen the master chief he was being carried off on a stretcher to a local Los Angeles hospital after the Event Group incursion into Brazil and the search for the not-so-mystical El Dorado mine. Jenks was now attired in a lab coat that did his rotund appearance no good at all. His eyes went from Carl to the young lieutenant who stood in line. His eyes wandered over her tight-fitting jumpsuit and then he again made eye contact with Carl and raised his brows twice in succession.

“Master Chief,” he said as he finally found strength in his legs to step forward. He eyed the man up and down and smiled. “Or is it
Mr.
Jenks?”

“Just Jenks will do, Toad, or if you insist, Professor Jenks, asshole.” He held out his hand.

Carl shook and then looked around at the young people he was surrounded by. “What are you running here, Jenksy, a day-care center?”

Jenks looked at the NASA men and women and replaced the cigar stub in his mouth. “Yeah, it’s like the Amazon all over again, huh? I mean, these kids are young enough to be in high school.” He grinned. “But we did get those kids in the Amazon home again, didn’t we?”

“Yes we did, Chief.”

The chief’s demeanor instantly changed. “After you and that crackhead army major trashed my boat, my baby!”

“Look, Master Chief,
Teacher
saved all our lives, and with my last look at my pay voucher I was still paying for that damn boat, one dollar a month for the rest of my life.”

“Hah! Got you there, didn’t I? It’s got to be hell at tax time trying to explain that one.”

Everett remembered the beautiful boat, USS
Teacher,
an experimental river craft of the chief’s design and construction. The genius little engineer had built the most magnificent and advanced boat he had ever seen, only to have Everett and Jack Collins ram it into an ancient gold mine and sink her in a bottomless lagoon. He coughed and cleared his throat.

“And that’s now
General
Crackhead, Chief,” Carl said, referring to Jack’s new brevet rank.

“Jesus, the military is really hard up, ain’t they?”

“Hard up enough to give
me
a brevet rank also, you old goat.”

Jenks eyed Everett up and down, his eyes finally settling on the admiral’s shoulder boards for the briefest of moments. Then he removed the stub of cigar and tossed it into the wind.

“Yeah, the navy always gives you the candy before the medicine, if I remember right.” He eyed Carl and then shook his head. “Well, this time I’m afraid you’ll earn it, Toad, my boy.”

The master chief gestured for the young NASA officers to scatter as he and Carl moved toward the elevator on top of the roof. The men and women all looked on in shock, as they had never seen the man that had driven them crazy for the past year so cowed by a mere man before. They immediately had respect for anyone that could do that with the old chief designer.

“Just what in the hell is going on, Master Chief?” Carl asked as Jenks growled at two lieutenants when they tried to get into the elevator with them, sending them scurrying for cover.

“These young folks are going to make you an astronaut, Toad. And the plan is we’re going to try and save this fucked-up planet.” He hit the floor button he wanted. “What for, I’ll never know, as I never found much use for it, or at least the species that occupies it much.”

Carl was ashen faced as the elevator doors slid closed. “Astronaut?”

“That’s right, my boy, a fucking astronaut. That’s what I call military preparedness.” He hesitated and then smiled wider than before. “Admiral.” He laughed all the way to the fifth floor of the astronaut training center.

The space arm of Operation Overlord had its commander.

WALTER REED NATIONAL MILITARY MEDICAL CENTER

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Virginia Pollock sat next to the bed and reached over to take Niles Compton’s left hand, careful not to touch the cast of his right arm. The doctors had barely managed to save the limb after sixteen hours of complicated surgery. The entire right side of his face was covered in white-gauze bandages and that was the injury that made Virginia tear up. Niles had lost the eye and he would have a scar running down the side of his face for the rest of his life. He had not awakened since her arrival.

She looked up at the silent television as President Camden was seen visiting his comatose predecessor as he lay in bed in severe critical condition, as the multitude of specialists proclaimed he may or may not pull through. Many people saw the disgust in the face of the nation’s first lady as the new man in the Oval Office shook her hand in condolences. It was no secret that the first lady shared her husband’s contempt of the former Speaker of the House; the distaste was hard to miss.

Virginia turned at the sound of a light knock on the door. She crossed the room and opened it.

“Acting Director Pollock?” A small man with glasses stood massaging a briefcase that had seen far better days. Another taller and very much thinner man was standing behind him. He looked more nervous than the smaller gentleman.

“Dr. Pollock,” she corrected apprehensively, as she didn’t know these two in the slightest.

The tall man nudged the smaller man in front of him.

“Of course, my apologies.” The man eyed the taller, dark-haired Virginia nervously.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” she asked abruptly, not wanting to disturb Niles.

“Dr. Pollock, my name is Sanford, Max Sanford. I am the director of the National Archives, and this is Mr. Halliburton West, of the General Accounting Office.”

A light came on inside Virginia’s brilliant head and she stepped aside to allow the men in. They stood before the bed and looked down on Niles. The smaller man looked as if he were about to cry. The taller one moved to inspect Niles’s face. He also shook his head.

“God, look what they have done to him,” Sanford said. He straightened and then placed the briefcase he was carrying on a nearby chair.

“I take it you gentlemen are here because of the succession regulations?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes, Doctor.” Sanford looked from Virginia toward a departing shot of Camden on television as he waved his hands at the reporters gathered at the scene. “As you know—or may not know,” he corrected as he looked down on Niles’s still form, “we have to brief the new president on Department 5656 no later than ten days after he takes office. That’s the law as set down by President Roosevelt in the forties.”