torg 03- The Nightmare Dream (9 page)

A jeep pulled up beside Covent's station. Decker, Kurst, Major Boot, Tal Tu and Paragon jumped out.

"I've got a couple of ideas for you to try, Charlie," Decker said as he walked over. "But we're going to have to hurry if we want to accomplish anything before they start moving."

"Why haven't they attacked yet, Ace?" Covent asked. "I can see them through the occasional breaks in the storm, but they're just standing there."

"They are waiting for sufficient numbers to flip this reality," Tal Tu explained. "Baruk Kaah will not make the same mistake twice. This time he will rush this line of defenders with three or four times the number he needs to activate the stelae."

Decker quickly outlined his plan. Covent nodded, jotted down a few notes, then handed the written orders to a sergeant for implementation.

"That should slow them down and maybe even give them something to think about, but we need a more permanent solution," Covent said.

"What do you have in mind?" Decker asked.

"We need to find the stelae," Covent declared.

"That will be difficult, major," Kurst responded. "Not only will a stelae of this importance be well hidden, it will also be well guarded."

"That's why I want to send you and Decker to deal with it," Covent shot back.

Kurst and Decker exchanged glances. Then Decker spoke. "I'm afraid we can't do that, Charlie. We'll help you with the initial attack, but as soon as the confusion is heavy, we're going through the storm."

"Are you crazy, Ace?" Covent exploded. "That's suicide! Of what possible use can such an action be?"

"We're going to try to reach one of the maelstrom bridges," Decker explained calmly, trying to reassure the major. "We're going to travel up the bridge to find some friends of ours. But we'll also bring enough explosives to hopefully take the bridge down. That should slow them down even more."

Covent wiped a hand over his face. "We'll talk about this," he said at last. "But first let's look at the maps. I want to try to pinpoint likely places to plant a stelae."

19

The pilot looked at the orders from Major Covent with disdain. "They want me to do what?" he bellowed.

"Those are your orders," the crew chief said. "We've already filled the bomb bay for you. All you have to do is fly the damn plane."

"What's my cargo?" he asked indignantly*

"Rocks," the crew chief smiled. "Just fly over the storm, pick a target, and open the bay doors."

"Rocks? Rocks don't explode! What good are rocks?"

The crew chief pushed up close to the pilot, impatience screwing his face into an angry mask. "Bombs don't explode past the storm front either, and rocks are a hell of a lot cheaper for virtually the same effect. From the height you'll be flying, those rocks will drive through bodies like shrapnel. Now get a move on."

With plenty of reservations but no desire to go against his orders, the pilot climbed into his cockpit and fired up the engines.

"Remember," the crew chief called, "stay above the level of the storm!"

The pilot nodded, but he already knew that. He had even less of a desire to have his engines conk out over the enemy.

"Rocks," he chuckled, then flew off to make his delivery.

20

The map on the table was of California. There were triangles drawn upon it that marked the Dead Ring, those areas which already belonged to the edeinos. Covent, Decker, Kurst and Tal Tu leaned over the map, estimating where the next apex would be positioned.

"They can place the stelae anywhere, as long as no arm of the triangle is more than three hundred miles long," Kurst explained.

"That puts it probable location here," Covent said as he drew a circle with his compass.

Tal Tu leaned closer, studying the images on the map. Decker had explained what the symbols were, and the edeinos had quickly figured out how to interpret them. He had advanced leaps and bounds since joining up with Alder and leaving the Living Land.

The edeinos tapped the map with one clawed finger. "Here is where the restan group has placed it," Tal Tu said carefully. "It is in this place called Angeles National Forest."

"That's still a big area," Covent said. "All right, I guess that's where I'm going."

Decker look shocked. "You can't go, Charlie. You're needed here. You can't leave Colonel Matthews to handle the troops by himself."

"What choice have I got?" Covent asked. "There's no one else."

"I will go," Tal Tu replied. "I know what to look for, what to watch out for. I am the best choice."

A sergeant entered the command tent. "Sorry to interrupt, major, but I'd thought you'd like to hear. Three planes dropped their rock payloads over the storm. We don't know about all of them, but one observation team noted that a large number of creatures were killed by the falling rocks. They were lucky enough to catch a break in the storm front at the moment of the drop."

"Too little too late, I'd imagine," Covent sighed. "Thanks, sergeant."

The sergeant nodded and took his leave.

"Your offer is generous, Tal Tu, but I can't put you in

i hargc of a platoon," Covent picked up where he left off.

I hey just won't trust you, and that will put the mission at risk."

The sergeant burst into the tent again, and Covent spun on him angrily. "What is it now, sergeant?" he demanded.

"The lizards are coming through the storm!" the sergeant blurted.

"Set off the explosions," Covent ordered. "I want that wall of fire up now!"

They all rushed out of the tent, the discussion about who was going after the stelae forgotten as a more immediate threat was revealed.

21

Quin Sebastian stepped off the transport and looked around. For a base so close to the battlefront, Twentynine Palms was overly subdued. He was a soldier of fortune who worked for whoever had the money — as long as the job didn't go against his own moral standards. Of course, being in the field of work he was in, his moral standards did have some rather unclear borders. His most recent job was for President Jonathan Wells, the man he worked for when he had been a CIA operative. Wells had asked him to go into the Zone of Silence, into New York actually, to check into rumors that Wells' predecessor, President Douglas Kent, was still alive. The rumors suggested that he had not been killed during the initial invasion, but was hiding out in the very heart of the enemy's camp. Sebastian had accepted the job. He made it as far as a relocation camp in Kentucky when the call came for him to return to the farm. Instead of Wells being on the line, however, it was Dennis Quartermain.

"Wells is dead, Sebastian," Quartermain had informed

him. "He's been assassinated."

Sebastian did not like Quartermain. In fact, he didn't trust the man. Neither did Wells for that matter, and the details of Quin's mission were never revealed to Quartermain. Quin had decided to keep the mission secret. He could always go back to New York. Right now he had a more personal assignment. And his target, according to Quartermain, was Congressman Andrew Jackson Decker.

Two men in dark glasses were waiting for him when he stepped onto the tarmac. He knew their type — God, he used to be their type! — and he wondered what agency they were assigned to. As this was the site of President Wells' assassination, they were probably FBI or Secret Service men.

He gave them his winningest smile, and said, "Don't bother with my luggage, just take me to see Colonel McCall."

"Sorry, Sebastian," one of the men said, "but we have different orders. Come with us."

They turned to go and actually took a half a dozen steps before they noticed he wasn't following them. They returned, and already anger was flaring behind their dark glasses. Sebastian smiled. "I guess I haven't lost any of my style," he said. "Less than a minute and I've pissed you fellows off."

One of the men made a motion for his shoulder holster, but the other man stopped him. He composed himself, then flashed a strange badge at Sebastian. The badge was a stylized sun, radiating daggers instead of beams of light.

"What's that?" Quin asked. "Your cloak-and-dagger membership card?"

"We're with the Delphi Council, Mr. Sebastian," the agent informed him coldly. "The director of the Council is here and she wants to speak with you."

Delphi Council? Quartermain had mentioned something about a new branch of the spy services back in I louston, but he had dismissed it as nothing more than a think tank. Now he wasn't so sure. He shrugged. "Lead the way."

They took him into one of the buildings, eventually leading him to a well-appointed office. Seated behind the desk was a woman with raven-black hair. It was styled short, and had the barest hints of gray.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Sebastian," she said, smiling broadly.

"Thanks," he replied, "but I'll stand."

"Of course," she continued. "Let me get right to the point. You will report to me on the matter of Andrew Decker and his imminent capture. I will provide you with ..."

Sebastian cut her off. "Don't take this the wrong way, lady, but who the hell are you and why am I reporting

to you?"

"I am Ellen Conners, director of the Delphi Council," she explained, her eyes boring into him with frightening power. He had heard of Conners, although he thought she was still in the Senate. She had a reputation as Old Lady Medusa, but she didn't look old. He imagined that it wouldn't be hard not to waver under the strength of her gaze, though.

"The investigation of President Wells' assassination has been given over to the Council, and as you have been hired to perform services concerning said assassination, you will now report to me," Conners finished smugly.

"What does reporting to you entail?" Sebastian pressed. He didn't think he liked the way this job was

shaping up, but he owed it to Wells to see it through.

"Very little, really. I will provide you with details concerning the assassination, Decker's subsequent flight from this base, who his traveling companions are, and where he is most likely to be found. In return, you will bring the congressman back here to me. I will be running the Council from this location until the Decker matter is behind us."

"Where's the catch?" Sebastian asked.

"Catch?"

"What else comes with this little deal?"

Conners laughed. "You are a bright man, Mr. Sebastian. Perhaps when this is all over you would consider becoming one of my Spartans. But you want an answer, don't you? Very well. Agent Thomas King will be accompanying you on your mission. Don't bother protesting. This is not a negotiable point."

Sebastian looked at the agent. It was the one who did most of the talking. Great! "We leave in two hours, King," Sebastian informed him. "Be ready."

Then Quin sat down to get his briefing from the director of the Delphi Council.

22

Sebastian checked his watch. The helicopter would be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Conners' briefing took almost all of the two hours he had set aside for this stopover. He certainly didn't want to give Decker anymore of a head start, and Conners was adamant about not calling any of the officers at the battlefront in fear of tipping Decker off to their plans. Still, Quin desperately wanted to speak to Colonel McCall to get his version of what happened here, but the colonel was nowhere to be found. The base was fairly large, and he

could be anywhere dealing with who knew what kind of

crisis.

As he wandered the hospital building, Sebastian came across another Spartan. This one was stationed in front of a door, standing guard. His curiosity aroused, Sebastian went over to talk to the man.

"Get lost," the Spartan ordered.

"Take it easy," Quin said, flashing a smile. "I'm one of you guys. Conners is sending me out to pick up that Decker creep."

"You must be the mere," the Spartan responded.

"Quin Sebastian," he introduced himself. "What do you have in there?"

"Just the kids who helped Decker. We're holding them as possible accomplices."

"Mind if I ask them a couple of questions, just to confirm some things Conners wasn't clear on."

The Spartan nodded, pushing the door open so that Sebastian could enter. "Five minutes," he said.

"That's all I've got to spare anyway," Quin said, and he entered the room.

The room was illuminated by a single lamp. It had a single bed, of a style made famous in hospitals the world over, and a single chair rested near the single window. On the bed sat two boys. One could have been as old as sixteen. The other was no more than fourteen, but probably younger. The older youth looked up when Sebastian entered, displaying a shining black eye for the soldier of fortune to see.

"Who did that to you, boy?" Sebastian asked.

"Who do you think?" the youth sneered. "What are you here for? Are you going to play good cop? Well, don't waste your breath. I don't have anything else to say to you people."

There were other marks on the youth's face. Sebastian cringed. The Spartans had worked him over. Anger flared in Quin's gut, but he held it back. After all, these kids could be guilty. They could have helped Decker.