Wish you were here inste.., p.23
Wish You Were Here (Instead of Me), page 23
“If you think you missed something, check the crates again,” Sean said. “When you get to Area-51, I want you to check all the crates that came from Benson. It’s possible a beacon was slipped into an earlier shipment, but I think it’s doubtful.”
“If the Voytay are going to rescue the sooval, why not rescue Parker, too?” Serene asked.
“Why would they want to? What could he possibly tell them? The UNCA has been disbanded, but if the Voytay wanted any of the organisation’s records, they had plenty of time to ask for them. The assassins were in Ireland, and now some are in Britain, and it was the British branch of the UNCA that was compromised. In case I’m wrong, we’re deploying a fighter wing to defend the base. When you get there, go inside and stay inside until Celeste arrives.”
“Maybe that’s what this is all about,” Harold said. “Maybe all of this is a distraction. Would the Voytay really want to assassinate the prophet? It would enrage the Valley, and start a war.”
“Not if a sapiens is blamed,” Tempest said.
“Even then, wouldn’t people ask where the drones came from?” Harold asked. “No, what I mean is that everything that’s happened so far has had the net result of Valley fighter craft, and soldiers, being deployed all over the planet. The intelligence officers on the platform and at the embassy are looking down on Earth, not watching for an attack on the platform itself. This is the perfect time to attack.”
“And Gunther is still away,” Serene said.
“I don’t know if they could have predicted that,” Sean said. “Or perhaps they could. Who else would we send to threaten the Voytay after the crash? Yes. Possibly. In which case, do expect an attack on Area-51. I’ll warn Agent Burton, and send him some better weapons.”
The flight was long and uncomfortable, and made even more tense when a towani fighter squadron took up position on their port wing. As they neared the United States, they gained a USAF escort to starboard. With each passing second that an attack on RAF Benson didn’t come, Harold’s imagination conjured scenes of destruction far worse than Oxfordshire. Woking, London, every city in the world, he pictured each being destroyed in turn. Unable to relax, he scanned the crates again. Twice. Tempest, by contrast, became increasingly convinced the attack had already failed, and the danger had now passed. Serene busied herself checking the notes on the embassy smuggling ring, trying to find a link between it and Dr Masadi.
Special Agent Burton was waiting when they arrived, and was the first aboard the plane, accompanied by a USAF sentry carrying a Valley rifle.
“Mr O’Malley said some kind of radio beacon was found in a waste-crate in RAF Benson,” Burton said. “Did you check these crates?”
“Absolutely. They’re clean,” Serene said. “Well, they’re filthy, but none have a power signature.”
“Is that what you look for?” Burton asked.
“The beacon Da found was on standby, waiting to be turned on remotely,” Serene said.
“We need to check every crate that’s come from Oxfordshire. Can you three do that?”
“Sure,” Harold said.
“Good. Follow me.”
Their Valley fighter-escort had set down, but there were five more ships hovering ominously above the base. Other than the ground crew, now hurrying to unload the plane, everyone Harold could see was wearing body-armour and carrying a Valley rifle. Burton drove them from the aircraft to the hangar with the elevator-entrance to the bunker hidden below. Sergeant Washington was on duty, though now with two corporals.
“Weapons go into the tray,” the sergeant said.
Burton removed his sidearm, and walked through. Serene followed, but the scanner pinged.
“What’s on your arm?” Washington asked.
Serene rolled back her sleeve, revealing the dock to which her drones were attached. “It’s not a weapon.”
“It set off the scanner, so it has to be left behind,” Washington said.
“Seriously?” Serene asked.
“Those are the rules,” Burton said.
When Tempest walked through the scanner, it trilled a symphony.
“It must be broken,” Tempest said.
“Don’t tell a fish she can’t swim,” Burton said, tapping the scanner’s display. “I worked with your father. I know what towani weapons look like. I’m not going to ask under which law you have a right to carry them, but you don’t have a right to carry them down here.”
“If we’re about to be attacked, wouldn’t it be better if I was armed?” Tempest said.
“There’s another scanner built into the elevator,” Washington said. “It’ll shut down if you try to take those inside.”
With obvious reluctance, Tempest removed a small arsenal.
“Dare I ask what’s in your bag, Harold?”
“Just some portable scanners, a few books, and a change of clothes.” Harold walked through without the alarm sounding.
“Sergeant, can you come with us?” Burton said, and then led them into the elevator, down to the underground bunker, and to a chamber the same size as the museum, but filled with towering racks of identical crates, stretching twenty feet into the air.
“Which ones are from Oxfordshire?” Harold asked.
“All of them,” Burton said. “Do you need anything?”
“Dinner would be nice,” Tempest said.
“I’ll have some sent to you. Sergeant Washington will remain here. If you find anything, he’ll raise the alarm.”
Washington lingered by the door. Harold opened his bag, and took out the scanner.
“I can’t believe you tried to smuggle weapons into a prison,” Serene said.
“As an acolyte, they’re cultural,” Tempest said. “And what about the sisters?”
“What about them? They wouldn’t help anyone escape.”
Harold began running the portable scanner over the nearest crate. “It’s clean.”
“How are we going to reach the ones at the top?” Tempest asked.
“If I had the sisters, we could fly.”
“I could climb,” Tempest said.
“Or you could use those moveable steps down at the end of the aisle,” Harold said.
It was dull and tedious work, and took nearly three hours after Harold insisted they check the crates twice.
“Nothing,” Harold said.
“Which makes sense, since all the other attacks have been in Ireland or Britain,” Serene said.
“What do we do now?” Tempest asked.
“Tell the sergeant. Where is he?” Serene said.
“He must have popped outside,” Harold said, and opened the door. “Nope. He’s gone.”
“Why don’t we go to the museum?” Serene said. “Didn’t you say there was an exhibit on the tunnel in Iraq? If that’s when Parker and his wife first met, it’s got to be the key to everything.”
“You’ve had an idea, haven’t you?” Tempest asked.
“Sort of. The only Valley people implicated in the smuggling ring managed to slip away before they were arrested. Someone warned them, which… well, perhaps it’s Abi tol Demener.”
“No. You can’t suspect them,” Tempest said. “Besides, they’re back on Towan III.”
“Now, yes, but they were the senior archaeologist here for years, in charge of recruiting other specialists, and they spent an age researching that tunnel. Maybe I’ve got it wrong, so let’s take a look.”
The museum was just as Harold remembered, but his interest was waning. The long flight, tedious but tense work, and the stress of the assassination attempt had left him drained, while the lack of a good night’s sleep hadn’t left him with much in the tank to begin with.
“See anything?” Tempest asked, as they stood in front of the photographs of the tunnel.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure,” Serene said.
Harold yawned. “I think I’m going to find somewhere to lie down.”
The lights went out, but emergency lights then came on.
“What—” Harold managed before a wall of air slammed into him, throwing him across the chamber, head-first into the side of the Iraqi-found spaceship.
Chapter 27 - What a Difference Twenty Metres Makes
Sean read through the report, skipping over the apology. They’d been so intent on watching for ships entering the system, it had taken ten minutes before anyone noticed a hop drive had activated on Earth. The signature was too small to be a ship, so it was probably just a message-pod. As the location of departure was on the outskirts of Wrexham, it was likely to be Dr Masadi, or one of her assassins. Greta had flown there to begin an aerial search for the fugitives, while the local police were mobilised. That was three hours ago. So far, the search had turned up nothing. The progress of the interrogation in Ireland wasn’t helping his mood. The suspect still refused to talk. Considering what had happened to the two in the car, it wasn’t surprising.
Greta had put in a request to interview the suspect, but that had to go through official channels, and they were tortuously slow to navigate. Not for the first time, Sean wondered what he could have done differently, and what he should do differently next. There was no denying that first contact was not panning out like he’d hoped. In some respects, the very opposite of what he’d wanted had happened now that he’d had to hand out modern weapons to the British, the Americans, and the German soldiers maintaining a cordon outside the embassy, and to the Gardaí protecting the conference and Church Island. If he didn’t ask for them back, there would soon be demands from other nations for equal treatment.
He’d pushed the idea of sending the flag-carriers to Towan III, because he knew none of them could be working for Dr Masadi. The last thing they needed was an assassin attempting to sabotage the ferry mid-journey. It didn’t solve the real problem of the disparate nations finding an equitable way of making decisions on behalf of the entire planet. Handing out weapons to some would certainly make it more difficult.
His glasses flashed yellow. Contact. A ship had just skipped into existence above the Bristol Channel. He began to place a call to Greta, but was interrupted by a trio of explosions outside. He ran to the window. Smoke was rising from the runway. That had to be the signal to the sooval. He switched on the beacon.
“This is it. Linton, tell the major what I’m sure he knows. The arrival is imminent and everyone should stay away from the runway.”
Even as the sergeant raised her radio, the hangar shuddered. The roof rippled. A fist-sized lump of concrete punched a hole through the wall, while a chunk of black-top smashed through the window. As sirens blared, Sean’s glasses flashed yellow again, but this time he dismissed the message. He knew what it was going to say.
Outside, chunks of concrete, cement, and runway pattered to the ground. A fog of dust and smoke shrouded the airbase, but amid the haze was a hint of flame. He switched his glasses to low-light, and then to thermal. A transporter ship had attempted to materialise above the runway. Instead, and because Sean had used his ship to spoof the beacon’s signal, it had reappeared just beneath the surface, causing a volcanic displacement of asphalt and of the soil beneath. Only a small section of the forward control deck was visible, and it was spouting flame. No one could have survived, but there was a very real chance of an explosion.
His glasses flashed yellow again. This time, he read the message, but it told him what he’d just seen. He stepped back into the hangar, waiting for the dust to settle. He placed a call to his wife. “Greta, the transporter that appeared here is mostly buried. I assume everyone inside is dead. I’m concerned the engines might explode. We need to evacuate the sooval prisoners.”
“Forget about them, what about Area-51?” she asked, an unaccustomed edge of panic in her voice.
“What about it?”
“Didn’t you get the alert? A ship appeared inside the facility.”
Sean ran. As he did, he brought up the message he’d dismissed without reading. It said just what his wife had told him. He tried calling Tempest, Serene, and then Harold. They didn’t answer. By the time he’d reached his ship, he’d been unable to reach Burton, either.
He’d barely buckled himself in before he took off. He sent a message to the captain of the Valley detachment guarding the prison to organise an evacuation of the mercenaries, one to the peace platform to send down a repair team to make the wrecked ship safe, then contacted the head of the towani fighter wing he’d deployed at Area-51.
“What’s happening?” Sean asked.
“A ship appeared inside the museum,” Captain Melissa tol Farrat said. “It— It just departed.”
“They had help. Don’t trust anyone, but find my kids.”
He ended the call, breathed out, and called Greta.
“Greta, I can’t reach the kids. I’m on my way to America. Where are you?”
“The Bristol Channel. I got here too late. That ship has gone, but they left a boat behind. The passengers must have been waiting aboard with a beacon.”
“They must have had a beacon in Area-51, too. Someone helped them.”
“Burton?”
“I hope not,” he said.
The ship began to shudder as it punched through the atmosphere. The pain of g-force was replaced with the balm of zero-g, but fear and worry wouldn’t allow him to enjoy it.
An update came from the towani captain. “Sir. I am sorry. Your children have been taken.”
“Taken? Can you be more precise?”
“Abducted. They were taken aboard the transporter before it skipped. This was an escape. Of the fifty-six sapiens prisoners, forty-one are unaccounted for.”
“Keep investigating,” Sean said.
He called Greta, relaying the news.
“That’s madness,” she said.
“So is going to all this trouble just to rescue Parker,” Sean said. “I better tell Celeste.”
“I’ll tell her,” Greta said. “They are her children, too. It’s an act of war, Sean. Not just against the Valley, but also against her.”
Not having fully discharged all forward momentum, his flying wing skidded on the runway as he set down. As soon as he’d silenced the alarms, they sounded again, warning of a burst of small impacts as a nervous USAF sentry opened fire with a machine gun.
Burton and Melissa tol Farrat came to meet him, along with General Chung, the USAF commander of the above-ground part of the base.
“It was Washington,” Burton said in lieu of a greeting. “He was the insider.”
“Washington? Captain Farrat, get airborne. General, warn your people that there might be a follow-up attack. The ambassador has informed the world leaders.”
“You think they’d attack now?” Burton asked.
“The murder of Clee, the attempted assassination of the prophet and the Irish president, and now this prison break and kidnapping of my children, this is an act of war. It makes no sense, but if they are going to attack, they’ll do it now. My wife will arrive soon with the children’s mother. Tell your sentries not to shoot at their ship when it lands. Burton, tell me what happened?”
“Their ship appeared in the museum. Your kids, and Harold, they were there at the time. They’ve gone. We think they were knocked out by the displacement of air when the ship appeared. Washington somehow cut power to the base. He killed the guards at the entrance to the prison, set the prisoners free, and led them to the museum. There were alien soldiers aboard. They killed at least four guards, but we’re still counting bodies and tending to the injured. There are a few who won’t make it. When they left, they took your kids with them. Five prisoners are dead. The rest remained in their cells. We’re questioning them. So far, they say they knew nothing about this in advance.”
“Where were you when this happened?”
“Above ground with General Chung, waiting for an attack. How was this possible?”
“That’s what I want to know.”
By the time Greta arrived with Celeste and Jess, he had most of the answers, while a technician had found one more.
“Where’s Harry?” Jess asked, stepping around the wreckage now littering the museum chamber.
“I don’t know,” Sean said.
“Is he even alive?”
“I think so.”
“They won’t be harmed,” Greta said. “It would be madness. It was madness to take them.”
“But we will get them back?” Jess said.
“Of course,” Sean said. “I want to interrogate that suspect in Ireland first, but then we’ll set out for Voytay space.”
“Do you know what happened?” Greta asked.
“The beacon was hidden in the holographic projector at the centre of the chamber. The projector could show the story of each ship that crashed on Earth.”
“How long had the projector been here?” Jess asked as they all turned to look at the debris of the device, crushed under the weight of the ship.
“Three years,” Sean said. “The sapiens insider was a former Marine named Washington. He was in Iraq on Parker’s first mission with me. So was Agent Burton, who had just been transferred to oversee this base, and oversee the disestablishment of the prison. Washington has been working here for nearly twenty years, and mostly as a security guard. While he had plenty of time to try to circumvent the security measures, I don’t think he was able. I think the beacon was hidden inside the projector before it arrived. The hack that knocked out the lights and opened the doors was achieved with a device disguised as a lump of shrapnel. It must have come in with one of the crates of junk.”
“It must have been custom-built,” Greta asked.
“Washington killed at least four guards himself. These were people he’d worked alongside for years. We know Olawayo killed at least two more. When the Voytay joined the fight, it became a massacre. One of the survivors reports a squad of five leaving the ship. She was the one who saw our kids being picked up and carried aboard.”
“I’d like to speak to her,” Jess said.
“You can’t. She succumbed to her wounds.”
