Project Aura (26 page)

The astronaut with the code name Eagle Six was already on board. He had checked the payload, insuring that the satellite was secure. After NASA's unbelievable mistakes with other shuttled, he left nothing to chance. Now he lay back in his launch seat a set of headphones relaying to him the various communications come out of launch control:

"T minus three hours. The count has resumed. Perform T-three-hours snapshot on flight critical and payload items. Initiate LOX transfer line chilldown. Verify SRB nozzle flex bearing and SRB nozzle temperature requirements. Activate LCC monitoring software. The next planned hold is at T minus two hours. Go for flight crew final prep and briefing"

Cesar was waiting as the Lear set down on the airstrip. Valika was tired. Not just physically but emotionally. Gunning down unarmed scientists wasn't what she had envisioned during her combat training years ago. Shooting a body suspended in solution didn't add to her positive feelings. On top of that was the failure to bring anything back from Colorado because she had acted in haste.

"Where is Raisor?" Cesar asked.

"I believe he is dead. His body is at least." Valika quickly summarized the action.

Cesar seemed satisfied. "So Psychic Warrior is no longer a potential threat?"

"Yes, sir." Valika noted the helicopters on the edge of the airfield. "What is happening?"

"We're getting ready to move."

"Where is Souris?"

"She just returned from the ship. I'm sending her on the jet to the United States."

"Why?"

“To get the unlock code for MILSTAR." He explained.

"How did she find this out?" Valika asked.

"She said there was a spy among the Americans. When I asked her for more about this spy, she wouldn't say anything."

"I don't trust her," Valika said.

"We need her. Especially since we don't have Raisor."

"How long before we load the ship?"

"It arrives this evening. I want everything prepared by then."

*****

"Do you have the code?" Boreas asked. He was seated at his desk, leaning back in his seat.

McFairn's voice echoed out of the speakerphone. "Bright Gate was destroyed. We believe by the Ring."

"Do you have the code?" Boreas got up and walked over to the outside window.

"No."

"Time is running out for you."

"I think time is running out for you," McFairn said. "The Ring must be very confident to take the battle to the United States. I lost all my people there, including Kirtley. People here in Washington are asking questions."

Boreas stared out at the Wrangell Mountains, his hands clasped behind his back. "I know about Kirtley. I saw his transmission go off-line. But it's not important since we don't need Bright Gate anymore. What I do need is the unlock code."

"What exactly do you have planned?" McFairn asked. "You've assured me that our goals would be in common, but I don't see how getting you the unlock code for HAARP-MILSTAR is in my or my country's interest."

"Are you becoming patriotic now?"

"No, practical as always. What are we going to do about the Ring destroying Bright Gate?"

"The Ring won't be a problem," Boreas said. A vein throbbed in his temple and his hands twisted in fists behind his back.

"Why not?"

Boreas turned and stalked back to his desk. He leaned over the speakerphone. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You're nothing but a tool, do you understand? You're so concerned about your country. Your country? That's been around for what? Two hundred and some years? A blink of an eye compared to the time my people have existed.

"We have been at war for millennia. Can you conceive of that? And soon, very soon, the war will be over. So don't whine to me about your country. Get me the code or you, and everyone you care about will die!"

He slapped his hand down on the phone, cutting the connection.

*****

McFairn stared at the now silent phone. There was only one possible way she could get the code, and that was to go to Cheyenne Mountain. She picked up the phone and ordered a jet to be ready at Andrews Air Force Base.

She tucked her dog-eared copy of Sun Tzu in her overnight bag and walked out of her office.

*****

They'd done the best they could preparing Sybyl III and the rest of the equipment, but there were some things lacking. One was the crane they had used to lift and lower people into the tanks. Dalton, Jackson, and Barnes had to stack cartons of supplies next to their tanks and clamber up the makeshift platform. Making sure their lines, weren't tangled, Hammond sealed their TACPAD helmets on each, one by one. Then they blindly eased themselves down into the ooze.

Dalton resigned himself to the discomfort as the tube slithered down his throat and filled his lungs with liquid. His diaphragm fought and lost the battle as his body was slowly chilled. The white dot appeared and he focused on it. Soon he had assumed his avatar and was standing in the virtual world as Barnes and Jackson appeared next to him.

Dalton was ready for action.
“Jump,"
he ordered and he visualized their next point. They were at the ambush site in Colombia. Their target was a compound twenty miles down the road. They proceeded there by the process of jumping along the road, staying in the virtual plane high above it. The intelligence that Mentor had given them indicated the villa was home to one of the inner members of the Ring, a man named Naldo.

Dalton halted directly above the house located in the center of the walled compound. Jackson and Barnes flanked him.

"Dr. Hammond?"
Dalton projected the message back to the Ranch.

"I'm here."

"Were you able to do what I asked?"

"Yes. Sybyl’s programmed. You should be able to access it"

Dalton checked the data stream
"All right, I see it."

He heard Jackson's voice.
"We’ll find him. You wait here"

Before Dalton had a chance to agree, both Barnes and Jackson were gone, jumping down inside the building. While they were gone, he accessed the new program he had asked Hammond to construct. He transformed his avatar.

Jackson popped back into the virtual plane next to him.
"Geez. If you weren’t floating here, I wouldn't know it was you."

"Looks good?"
Dalton asked.

"Spitting image"

"Did you find Naldo?"

"This way. Barnes is waiting for us, keeping an eye on him. Naldo’s in his office. Alone."

Dalton followed as Jackson swooped down on the building. He passed through the roof behind her. They dropped through a room, through the floor, and into a room paneled with expensive wood. An old man sat behind a large desk. Dalton saw Barnes's avatar in the corner of the room.

“I’ll come through the door,"
Dalton said.

"All right. I’ll wait here,
" Jackson replied.

Dalton passed through the door to the office, then stopped on the other side. He was in an empty corridor. He began forming on the real plane his avatar gaining substance, using the power from Sybyl.

When he was completely in the real plane he turned around and opened the door and stepped through.

Naldo looked up and surprise raced across his face as he jumped to his feet. "Cesar! What are you doing here? When did you arrive? Why didn't my guards let me know?"

The only thing Dalton wasn't sure about was the voice, but they had accessed an NSA interception of Cesar on the radio and Hammond had programmed that into the avatar as well as the appearance.

"I wanted to talk to you alone," Dalton said, impressed with the accent and flawless Spanish. He walked across the room and sat down on the other side of the desk. Through the link with Sybyl, he knew that Barnes and Jackson were still in the room, although now that he was completely on the real plane he could not see into the virtual.

Naldo slowly sat. "It has been a long time since you have honored me with a visit"

"The situation is becoming critical," Dalton said.

Naldo nodded. "Have you been thinking about what we last talked about?"

"I have," Dalton said, having no clue what the old man was referring to.

"I do not think we should anger the Americans further," Naldo said. "I have talked to the others and they agree."

"Why did they not come to me themselves?" Dalton asked.

Naldo frowned. "They just left the island two days ago. I told you that is what they were thinking. Are you all right? You do not look well."

"I have to get back to the island soon," Dalton said, picking up the cue. "Why don't you come with me?"

"I just left there," Naldo said. He cocked his head. "Is everything all right? Has that American gone loco on you?"

"Souris is all right," Dalton said. "I left her on the island."

"And the ship?"

Ship? Dalton wondered. "As planned."

"That was a lot of money."

"It was worth it."

"It wasn't our money anyway." Naldo leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "So what did you want to see me about?"

“I’ve been thinking about the island," Dalton said.

"Saba?"

Jackson's voice was immediately inside Dalton's.
"Saba Island. In the Lesser Antilles."
An image relayed from Sybyl also appeared. A small volcanic island resting in a deep blue sea.

Dalton stood. "I am sorry. Things are uncertain. I should not have come."

Naldo also stood, confused. "What is wrong?"

Dalton couldn't have Naldo checking on things or giving Cesar a call and finding out he'd been duped. He also remembered the bodies of the Special Forces men hung in the meat locker at the other villa.

He accessed his original avatar program. Naldo's eyes widened as the figure in front of him changed from Cesar to that of a featureless, white-skinned form. Dalton's left arm flowed into a power tube and he aimed.

"Who are you?" Naldo was fumbling for a gun.

"What ship?" Dalton demanded.

Naldo fired but Dalton was a step ahead, re-forming behind the old man. "What ship?"

Naldo's face was red, his breathing labored as he turned, trying to bring the gun to bear. Dalton grabbed it, ripping it out of the old man's hand. Naldo staggered back, hit his desk, then fell to his knees, hands grabbing his chest. He fell over on his side.

"Damn," Dalton muttered as he knelt next to the old man. He checked the pulse. Nothing. Dalton stood.

"Let's go," he ordered as he slipped from the real to the virtual.

"Where to?" Jackson asked.

"Saba."

*****

"I thought we were going to adjust the frequencies to affect only the virtual plane," Dr. Woods, the man in charge of the HAARP machinery, said. He had the latest data from HAARP in his hands and he spread it out on the desk in front of his supervisor. "This is the same frequency we used to kill those people on the helicopter. We can't transmit that via MILSTAR."

"There isn't time to tinker with it," Boreas lied.

"But this will kill people unless they're shielded," Woods argued. "And you want it broadcast from all four satellites at once through CS-MILSTAR. I thought we were going to localize the transmission?"

Boreas considered the man in front of him. The members of the HAARP team had been recruited with suitcases full of cash. Some of them thought they were working for the CIA, others had different ideas, but none knew the truth. The objective of the project was clearly a weapon, but like most people who worked on such projects, they had not really considered the ultimate aim of such a weapon.

"The broadcast will indeed go worldwide," Boreas said.

"But this frequency." Woods shook his head. "I can't-"

He paused, looking down on the small hole in his chest, just to the left of his sternum.

A small puff of smoke was wafting out of the silencer of the .22 caliber High Standard pistol in Boreas's hand.

"But-" Woods fell forward and hit the floor with a solid thump.

*****

Two jets were headed toward Colorado Springs, one flying west from Andrews Air Force Base, the other northwest from the Caribbean.

On board each, a woman plotted how she would get access to a code locked in the most secure place in the country. One had an Aura transmitter with her, the other a copy of
The Art of War
.

****

Eagle Six watched the crew walk toward the gantry, waving at the TV cameras. Even though shuttle launches were pretty much routine there was always media on hand. After all, they might get lucky and have another disaster. Eagle Six's predecessor had been on the Columbia flight and his name withheld from the public in the ensuing inquiry into the disaster.

This was his eighth shuttle launch and he knew the math. No system was foolproof and there were so many subsystems in the shuttle that failure was bound to occur again. He could also get run over by a bus when crossing the street, and that didn't pay as well as this gig. Each flight he took earned him two million dollars, and he figured this one to be his last. He could retire and easily live off the interest plus he would be taken care of by the Priory.

The crew came on board, pointedly ignoring him. He was used to it. They thought he was a spook, from the CIA or the military, and had been briefed to only interact with him on mission requirements.

He checked the readout on one of the monitors. Two hours to shuttle launch and all systems were go.

*****

From the virtual plane, Dalton was able to safely detect the island's defenses. The guards all about, the hidden snipers, the mines along the shore; all were essentially worthless against a Psychic Warrior. He, Jackson, and Barnes bypassed these defenses and jumped to a spot directly above the large house that dominated the eastern slope of the volcano.

*****

Valika was walking through the operations center, making sure nothing was left that they needed, when the hair on the back of her neck tingled. She paused, looking about for the cause of her alarm. She could almost hear a voice in her head whispering
danger
. She drew her pistol and keyed the transmit button on the radio clipped to her belt. "Anyone see anything unusual?"

The reports from the various guard posts came back negative, but that didn't make her feel any better. She went to her small room and unlatched one of the suitcases she'd bought from Kraskov. Clipping a half dozen of the ‘beer cans’ to her belt she began searching the villa.