Weapon of Atlantis (9 page)

“Wh
at the hell happened?” Javi asked, already knowing the answer.

“We hit a wall
of birds,” the colonel answered simply.

“Have you ever seen so many in your life?” Lt. Jarvis asked.

“What the hell
were
those things?” Lt. Samuelson asked.

“Eiders,” Javi responded. “They’re a sea-duck that breads in colonies. It’s strange that they migrated so far north. We’ve seen one or two around Zeus’ pyramid, but never in this great a quantity. There must be thousands of them here. It’s very peculiar,” he said, now shaking his head in confusion.

“I wonder what would bring them this far north,” Lt. Jarvis pondered.

“I’m no ethologist, but my guess would be food,” Javi speculated.

Jack shook his head.

“I’m wondering if it isn’t something else,” he
hinted.

“Like what?” Javi asked.

“I may be reaching here a bit, but things seem too coincidental to me. Just before the crash, we heard both pilots discussing an anomaly with the compass. I’ve done my share of flying and compasses don’t just start spinning. In fact, I’ve never seen them spin. Something caused that action,” Jack started. He paused a moment to think, then continued. “Also, I wonder why the birds picked this exact spot to migrate to, after all, they had the entire coast of Greenland to choose from. I wonder if the same source that caused the compass to spin also attracted the birds to this location.”

Javi stared at Jack a moment, puzzled. “What’re you getting at, Jack?” he asked.

“I’m almost certain we’ve found it,” he responded confidently.

“The spacecraft?” Lt. Jarvis asked incredulously.

“It all makes sense,” Jack nodded. “The object under the ice, the compass anomaly and the mysterious gathering of Eiders: they’ve all got to be related. It’s just too far out to be coincidental.”

“I don’t get it. If it is the spacecraft that caused all this, how exactly did it do it?” Lt. Samuelson asked.

“That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question,” Jack joked. “My guess is there’s something inside it that’s emitting a kind of frequency that the birds subconsciously pick up on. That same frequency must also be interfering with compasses when a plane gets close by it.”

“I wonder why no one has ever noticed it before,” Lt. Jarvis pondered.

“My guess is, it has been noticed,” Col. Slatz responded. “A pilot flying over this area and seeing his compass momentarily spin would simply chalk it up to an unexplained anomaly and forget about it. As for the birds, seeing that they’re migratory and this breeding spot is very remote, I’m sure no one has ever realized they were even here.”

For the next hour, the four men huddled inside the wrecked hull of the fuselage, waiting to be rescued. Cold and shivering, they felt a welcomed relief once they heard the far off sounds of rotor blades. Within minutes, the rescue helicopter landed on the flat snowy plain and rushed the four men inside the warm cabin. As they lifted off, the copilot reached up and tapped the spinning compass. Five miles from the crash site, the instrument seemed to be operating properly and the copilot focused his attention elsewhere.

Col. Slatz turned to Jack and smiled knowingly.

“Mystery solved,” he joked.

Minutes later, the helicopter circled over the Nord Station airfield and prepared to land. The passengers stared out their windows at the primitive looking buildings and felt a sense of relief at the sight of civilization after surviving the crash. Twenty feet from touchdown, the aircrafts’ rotor blades brushed away all the snow and bits of ice that lay just below it. Jack followed the particles as they were swept across the runway toward the small parking area. Still sitting idle, he noticed the Cessna Citation business jet still parked in the same location as it had been for the previous two days. At a nearby building, two men in mirrored sunglasses stood next to the plane and appeared to be examining the tail section. As the helicopter landed, the men’s glances seemed long and deliberate.

“Looks like our friends are still here,” Jack remark
ed, still staring out his window.

Col. Slatz glanced toward them and smirked.

“Yup, must be something
real
interesting going on at that tail cone,” he said sarcastically.

Jack shot Slatz a puzzled stare. “What
do you mean?” he asked.

Slatz laughed, then pointed. “See that flimsy little piece of plastic attached to the very end of the tail section… the one those two are examining?” he asked.

Jack nodded.

“Looks like they’re really giving it a good look, doesn’t it?” he said, more of a statement than a question.

Jack nodded again.

“They seem awfully concerned about that tail cone,” he said, now chuckling. “Allow me to expose their secret. Th
ere’s absolutely nothing in the end of that tail section… just empty space. The purpose of the plastic cone is purely cosmetic. It covers the hole at the end of the tail… and nothing more.”

“So what the hell
are
they looking at?” Jack asked.

Slatz smiled. “Exactly my point,” he said simply.

Jack stared back, then nodded. “More cloak and dagger crap, I’m guessing,” he responded.

“That would be
my first guess… and my next guess would be that they’re watching you,” Col. Slatz added in ominous tone.

Jack’s face lost all expression. He glanced at the two men, then back to Slatz.

“Freakin’ great! You think they’re after the spacecraft?” he responded, now growing angry.

“Well I’m sure they ain’t here for your autograph. While I don’t think you’re in any danger, I do think you might want to guard anything you find in the future,” he warned.

Jack stared out his window at the two men with great suspicion, then nodded in understanding.

----- ----- ----- -----

One week later…

Jack stared down at the ground through the port window of the Sikorsky S-61 helicopter as they neared the crash site. The sight of the mangled fuselage and separated nose section, sent eerie shivers through his body. The previous week, the team had spent time with investigators, examining the details of the crash. Having made a preliminary ruling, the authorities approved the team back into the site to continue their search.

Flying at just a hundred feet above the ground, the pilot followed a course directed by Lt. Jarvis as he monitored his radar platform.

“Turn left five degrees, Sir, to intercept the target,” he announced into his microphone.

“Roger that, five degrees left,” the pilot responded. “What’s our distance to the target?” he asked.

“About a mile, Sir,” the lieutenant answered.

Jack watched the computer monitor as they approached. He could see a small disturbance in the gray and white pixels composing the landscape image that lay below the ice cap. At the top of the lieutena
nt’s screen, he watched a dark circular area grow more defined as they neared.

“Looks like the target is directly between the fuselage and the nose section of the plane,” Lt. Jarvis said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem. The crash investigators allowed us back in but only if we didn’t disturb the site,” Jack responded.

“We should be ok, Sir,” Lt. Jarvis responded. “We’ll fly to the center of the target, drop a marker, then set down farther away.”

“How close do you think the pilot can get us?” Javi asked, seated on the opposite side of the lieutenant.

“I’d say a hundred meters or so,” the lieutenant responded.

Jack smirked. “Don’t worry, Javi. I’ll drag the equipment sled, you can stand guard with the rifle. You do remember how to shoot a rifle, don’t you?” he teased.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted, mildly embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, Sirs. Maj. Deravic flew a reconnaissance of this area just a short time ago. There were no polar bears spotted. In addition to your rifle, we’ll also be carrying sidearms so we should be relatively safe.”

Lt. Jarvis watched his monitor and noticed the helicopter drifting off course.

“Sir, another five degrees left,” he requested.

“Roger, five degrees,” Maj. Deravic responded.

Moments later, as the target neared the center of the lieutenant’s computer screen, signaling their close proximity, he requested a speed change.

“Sir, we’re almost on top of the target. Can you reduce our ground speed to one-zero knots?”

“Slowing to One-zero knots,” he shot back.

Jack and Javi watched with great anticipation as the helicopter slowed. With their attention diverted from the computer screen to
the ground, their imaginations raced with excitement at the thought of a seven thousand year old spacecraft buried beneath the ice.

“Fifty feet to the target,” the lieutenant warned.

Jack now focused on the ground below, searching for a block of snow, a crack in the ice, anything that he could use to further pinpoint their location, once they were on the ground.

“Over the target. Release the canister,” Lt. Jarvis shouted.

Maj. Deravic quickly stopped, then hovered the aircraft over the target area, a hundred feet above the ground. Nodding to his copilot, Capt. Clausen cracked opened his window and dropped a canister to the ground. As it impacted the hardened snow, the can exploded, spreading red ink across the white surface.

“Good job,” Jack responded. “Twenty feet from the target.”

“Sorry Sir,” Capt. Clausen replied. “The rotor wash can be unpredictable.”

“I’m surprised you even got it that close,” he responded.

Lt. Jarvis studied the location momentarily, then pressed a button, sending data to an onboard printer.

“The target looks to be slightly larger than fifty feet in diameter, just left of the ground marker. It’s registering nearly forty feet beneath the ice,” he announced.

All eyes scanned the region just west of the red ink and tried to envision the size of the object below the ice.

“Fifty feet in diameter? Hardly seems big enough for space travel,” Capt. Clausen speculated.

As the men considered the captain’s statement, Maj. Deravic spun the helicopter around and headed to a landing zone previously selected on the way in. Moments later, he set the aircraft down on level snow, five hundred feet from the target area.

Within a half hour, Javi, Jack, Lt. Jarvis and Maj. Deravic loaded the arctic sled with research equipment and headed for the target zone, while Capt. Clausen stayed back and guarded the helicopter from polar bears. Thirty minutes later, the team of four stopped. Standing twenty feet from the red ink mark in the snow, they stared at the plane wreckage a hundred feet on either side of them.

“Amazing!” Maj. Deravic said. “Slatz sure earned his money that day.” He pointed to visible scars in the snow that started just beyond sea cliff, created by the planes initial impact. “Had he been just five feet lower in altitude, he never would’ve cleared that cliff face. You guys really
are
lucky to be alive.”

“Alive and uninjured,” Jack added, now zipping his coat in the cold arctic wind.

With a simple nod, he asked, “What do you guys need us to do?”

Javi pointed and said,
“You and Lt. Jarvis can take the ground penetrating radar to the south side and begin taking readings, marking the outer location of the object. Jack and I will take the north side and do the same.

Maj. Deravic nodded once more, then said, “Make sure you keep a watch for bears.
We didn’t spot any on the way in, but you never know. Don’t hesitate to shout out at anything suspicious.”

For the next four hours, the two teams worked to map out the perimeter of the buried object. Creating grid lines several feet apart, they each pulled a small wheeled-cart conta
ining the portable radar device along their designated paths. As they watched the data display on their handheld computer screens, they made notes of the object’s position and depth. With the last of the grid lines mapped out, the four men stood back and examined the shape of the markings.