Project Aura (21 page)

The shuttle was mated with the external tanks and boosters, nose pointing toward the roof of the vehicle assembly building. The system rested on a crawler transporter forty meters long by thirty wide. Propelled by eight sets of huge tracked propulsion units, the entire thing began moving, starting the trip to the launch pad. At a speed of less than one mile an hour, it would take four hours to reach the launch pad overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Inside the cargo bay, the SC-MILSTAR satellite was ready to be deployed in space.

*****

It wasn't long into the Cold War before the United States realized that housing its command and control facilities in surface buildings, easily susceptible to attack, was not a good idea. Once the decision was made to build a hardened facility, politics and practicality chose Cheyenne Mountain, overlooking Colorado Springs, which already had a large military presence in the form of Fort Carson, the Air Force Academy, and Peterson Air Force Base.

Work was begun on the one-hundred-million-year-old mountain in May 1961. A four-and-a-half-acre grid was hollowed out deep inside the mountain. Then over thirteen hundred metal springs were placed on the floor. Each spring was four feet long and twenty inches in diameter and could withstand a pressure of sixty-five thousand pounds. The theory was that the springs would allow the facility to withstand the shock wave of a thermonuclear blast on the surface of the mountain. On top of the springs, fifteen steel, windowless buildings were built to house NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command, a joint U.S.-Canadian facility.

There were only two tunnels into the underground base, allowing security to be very tight. The main entrance tunnel was over a third of a mile long and ended at a set of massive steel and concrete blast doors. Over eleven hundred people worked in the center, and it had operated 365 days a year, round the clock since inception.

The facility had opened for business on the sixth of February, 1964. Through the sixties and seventies, the major mission of the center was to provide missile warning, primarily through the Defense Early Warning line established across Canada and Alaska. In 1979 the Air Force established the Space Defense Operations Center there to counter the perceived growing threat by the Soviet Union toward satellites. In the 1980s the Air Force Space Command was established, and it absorbed all the subordinate units working in Cheyenne Mountain.

In 1981, Space Command supported the first shuttle launch, as it has done ever since. It was also tasked to coordinate the deployment of the MILSTAR constellation. In preparation for the coming deployment of the last satellite in that system, a group of Space Command men and women deep inside Cheyenne Mountain were running through a practice exercise insuring that once the SC- MILSTAR was put in orbit by the shuttle, they would be ready to begin worldwide operations.

*****

"Don't ever do that to me again!" Dalton was inside Kirtley's personal space, causing the agent to take an involuntary step backward.

"Don't worry," Kirtley said. "It won't ever happen again, because you're never going over again."

Dalton didn't back off. "Were you embarrassed because we killed most of the hostages and stole the others? Because you screwed up?"

"It was time to come back." Kirtley slipped out from between Dalton and the wall and walked to the control console, stepping up on the higher platform, looking down on the sergeant major.

"You should have jumped right into the room where the hostages were held," Dalton said.

"That's not proper technique," Kirtley argued.

"'Proper technique'?" Dalton pointed at the isolation tubes from which the rest of the team were being extracted. "There's no book on this. There is no proper technique. You have to use the advantages Psychic Warrior gives you to the max. Why clear a building in the normal way, when you're not normal? I guarantee you that those cartel guards will put a bullet in the hostages' heads the second they realize something's wrong."

"I'll take your advice under consideration," Kirtley said. He turned to Hammond. "We'll be ready to go in three hours." He left the control room.

Dalton went over to Jackson's tube, waiting as she was lifted out and her TACPAD helmet removed.

"Son of a bitch," she said, then spit some fluid out of her mouth. "That jerk cut us off. Goddamn," she cursed once more as Dalton draped a thick towel over her shoulders.

"I've already talked to him, for whatever good it did," Dalton said.

Jackson shivered. "Geez-if that's what those people in the other room are experiencing since they were cut off--" She shook her head. "That was bad, real bad."

"We've got to do all we can to help them," Dalton said. "Before Kirtley turns off their iso-tubes."

Jackson nodded. "Hell, yeah. Sign me up."

"I've got a call to make," Dalton said. "Get Barnes when he comes out and meet me in our bunkroom."

*****

"Do you have contact with the satellite?" Cesar asked.

Souris's eyes were closed, the leads from Aura covering her head. "Yes."

"Is it working?"

"I wouldn't have contact with it if it wasn't," Souris said. "Everything is developing exactly according to plan. Exactly."

"The coordinates are programmed?"

"Yes."

Cesar nodded. He didn't like waiting. He left the operations center and went upstairs to the atrium, his favorite place. All the other Ring members except Naldo had gone back to Colombia, satisfied that their money was being well spent and that their future in Cesar's hands looked bright. Or possibly plot to overthrow him, but Cesar thought that unlikely given the display he had presented and Alarico's fate.

Naldo was seated in a chair by the pool, a tall glass by his side.

"Old friend," Cesar said as he sat next to him, a bodyguard quickly bringing his own drink.

Naldo laughed. "Old enemy is more like it. We were at each other's throats many more years than we have spent sitting by the side of a pool drinking together."

Cesar raised his glass in toast "To old enemies then."

Naldo acknowledged the toast. "Things are different now. It's a new world. I miss the old days, though, when things were simpler."

"They were never simple," Cesar said. "Just different. The deals and double-deals and triple-deals you and my father used to do to each other; there was nothing simple about those."

"True. But it was between us. Two men. This-" Naldo fell silent

"Go ahead."

"This doesn't feel right, Cesar. Even you, you're different. Why do we need to fight the Americans?"

"Because we finally can," Cesar said. "Don't tell me you are not angry that the Americans tried to kidnap, or even kill, your son."

"Angry? Yes. Stupid? No."

A vein popped up on Cesar's forehead, blood throbbing. "You saw what we can do with Aura. And we will be more powerful after tonight."

Naldo leaned forward so that listening ears beyond the immediate vicinity could not hear. "I have to admit yes, I was very impressed with the demonstrations of this Aura. But I have had time to think about it since. And I have to tell you that I do not understand what you are doing. You act as if this Aura is the final answer. The Americans have other weapons. They have not hesitated to even invade a country when it was in their interests. Noriega learned that and now he rots in an American prison. Saddam is dead."

Naldo could see the stiffness in the younger man. "I know you are angry that I speak these words, but I feel as if ever since you moved from Colombia, you've been different. The others asked me to talk to you; that is why I stayed behind. They think this Aura thing is fine; as a device to spy on people. But your plan to take over the American satellites, that makes them fearful. They see it as inviting unnecessary trouble."

"Yes, you are right" Cesar said. "They are fearful. They are whipped curs who want to keep their few bones and hide. Why should we hide? Why should we bow down to some group just because it has a flag? The Americans commit many more murders and crimes around the world than we do." Cesar's arm swept out, flinging the glass across the tiles, where it shattered. He stood. "You have said what you needed to. I have work to do. Go back to Colombia."

***

Valika opened the case holding the Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle. She lifted it out and checked the bolt. Across from her, Gregory whistled. "Big gun."

Valika checked her watch. "Are your men ready?"

Gregory nodded. "We're ready. I would assume that since this base is so isolated, it's a military facility?"

"It's affiliated with the military," she acknowledged.

"Many guards?"

"Actually, none, as far as we know. Not at least in the way you envision guards."

"What does that mean?"

"I’ll tell you on the way." She rested the barrel over her shoulder and headed for the hangar doors. "Let's go."

*****

Blades began turning on the two MH-60K Blackhawk helicopters parked on the runway at Fort Carson Army Airfield. Crammed in the cargo bay was red webbing that they used for sling loads.

"Wheels up," Chief Warrant Office Roby ordered. Both choppers lifted off the tarmac and headed into the night sky, noses pointed northwest

*****

Boreas stared at the computer screen. He was seeing what Hammond had on her control console two thousand miles away at Bright Gate. Kirtley's team was beginning to go into their isolation tubes.

He picked up a headset and put it on. Then he typed in commands, covertly accessing Sybyl.

He spoke into the boom mike.
"Kirtley."

The voice that came back was muffled.
"Yes?"

"This is our private link through Sybyl. Neither Hammond nor your teammates can access it. You know your job, right? The real objective of this mission?"

There was a long pause.
"Yes."

"Good."
Boreas keyed off the connection. He spun about in his chair and looked out at the mountains. Even at night the white peaks were clearly visible. Soon he and his people would have nothing to fear from those who hid in the high country.

*****

On board the
Roosevelt
, blades also began turning on both Blackhawks and Apache gunships. Green Berets and Navy SEALs piled into the transport choppers while the gunships took off to lead the way.

Low over the ocean, the air flotilla headed for the shoreline of Colombia.

*****

Linda McFairn stared out her office window, but she wasn't really seeing the Maryland countryside. Her mind was on events happening far to the south. The photo of the executed Special Forces captain was the only item on her desk. She knew the Colombians had done that to spur action, and she'd told Boreas that she saw another ambush coming, but he hadn’t seemed concerned.

Whenever she was faced with a problem she tried to see it as Sun Tzu would have. She had no doubt that the Ring was preparing a trap for the rescue mission. On the other hand, her forces held the advantage of surprise with the Psychic Warriors leading the assault. And they were packing a lot of conventional firepower.

Things were accelerating, something she had experienced before during times of national crisis, yet no one in the government other than her knew there was a crisis. She had read the report on Mrs. Callahan's death. She had known the National Security Adviser and her husband reasonably well, and she had no doubt they would never have committed suicide, but the FBI had labeled it that and closed the case.

McFairn had never liked Callahan, a relative newcomer to Washington, coming in on the President's coat tails. The Adviser job should have been hers, so the death didn't bother her as much as the implication if she added in the death of Eichen: There was no doubt the Priory was moving against Nexus.

Since she had supplied Boreas, thus the Priory, with most of the intelligence about Nexus, she knew she was responsible for the deaths. Whatever guilt she had over that was assuaged by her anger that she had never been approached to be a member of Nexus. Who better to keep an eye on the Priory than the Deputy Director of the NSA?

All her thinking brought her full circle to the fundamental problem with her position: what did the Priory have planned and who was its enemy? The Priory had repeatedly shown that it cared little about who or what it had to destroy in accomplishing its goals, and she had little trust in Boreas's word that the plans were beneficial to the United States.

She turned back to the desk looked once more at the accusing photo, then picked up the phone linking her to the NSA operations center. At the very least she could have her agency monitor what was going to happen and be prepared to react whichever way was needed. She made sure the ops center was operating at full staffing and all the lines of communications with other government agencies were open.

Then she waited.

*****

Dalton watched from behind Hammond's shoulder as the last member of Kirtley's team was lowered into his isolation tube. "Let me know when they're all on the other side," he told Hammond.

Barnes and Jackson were already in the other room where the extra tubes holding Dalton's team were stored, preparing them for movement.

"Who are we working for?" Hammond suddenly asked.

Dalton was startled. "What do you mean?"

Hammond shrugged. "I'm just a scientist but even I can see things here are anything but straightforward. Why did Jenkins cut off that team? He worked for the government right? Then why did Raisor kill him? He worked for the government too. And I'm supposed to be working for the government, as are you, yet we're getting ready to hide from our own government."

"The government-" Dalton began, but he realized she was asking questions that didn't have simple answers. "The government is supposed to serve the people," he finally said. "But things have changed over the years. I've seen the same thing in the Army. We exist to defend our country; it's what we swear a binding oath to. But most officers, and a heck of a lot of NCOs, are only interested in their own careers, their own interests."