Area 51: Excalibur-6 (32 page)

"Thirty-seven," Yakov said.

"Thirty-seven," Major Briggs confirmed.

They had come about a half mile down the middle of the mothership. Yakov slowed as he came to the next opening. "Thirty-eight." He turned the corner.

A twenty-foot-high dull red pyramid was in the center of a huge spherical room, a forty-foot walkway leading out to it.

VICINITY MIDWAY ISLAND

Captain Lockhart received the report of inbound aircraft with no concern. The entire Alien Fleet was under the guard of the shield. She was more involved with preparing the strike

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wings on the two carriers. Planes were being readied, bombs full of nanovirus were being loaded, and infected pilots were receiving their orders via the nanovirus inside them.

The Alien Fleet wasn't hard to spot. CAG (Commander Air Group) had his planes at forty thousand feet and the ships, huge as the two carriers and tanker were, appeared to be tiny toys on the surface of the ocean far below.

He'd assigned each plane a number and broken them into three groups, one for each of the capital ships. As they approached the strike point, they began to circle, waiting.

"CAG, this is Alpha-One. Over."

"This is CAG. Over."

"Do you see what I see in the lead of that fleet? Over."

CAG reached for a set of binoculars and trained them on the fleet far below and ahead of them. The silhouette of the lead ship was strangely familiar but at the same time not anything he had ever studied in his ship recognition classes. The superstructure was, well, the only word he could come up with was archaic. But the Tomahawk missile launchers where large turrets should have been were as modern as his plane.

Then he realized what he was seeing. "That's the Arizona!' Strangely, the sight of the long-sunken warship didn't surprise CAG. It made him angry that the aliens would scavenge even that to use against them. "Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie flights. Stick with your primary targets. Our concern right now are the two carriers and the tanker. We go when they launch. Over."

He received acknowledgments from all three flight leaders. Three lines of planes were spreading out below him, each circling just outside the shield near their target. Each line consisted of twelve planes, a five-thousand-pound bomb under each wing. Twenty-four bombs per ship.

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* * *

Lockhart gave the order to launch. The two carriers turned into the wind and the first planes were catapulted into the air. At that moment, the shield was shut down. (

"Go, go, go!" CAG screamed into his mike. All the planes headed for their targets.

Lockhart saw the planes coming in for the attack. She smiled, but the smile disappeared as the nanovirus took over, forcing her to put the shield back up.

CAG saw the second plane launched smash into the invisible barrier just ahead and cursed. His squadrons didn't have enough fuel to hang around here much longer and still be able to make it back.

CAG launched his bombs and then cursed as he saw the impotent explosion when the ordnance hit the shield wall.

CAG looked once more at the Arizona. "Flight leaders, take your planes home.

Over." He turned his plane and started to circle, just outside the shield.

"This is Alpha flight leader. CAG, what are you doing? Over."

"I'm going to hang around."

Lockhart saw the planes fly away. All except one. But it had dropped its bombs already so it was no longer a threat. She ordered the shield down and the launch to resume.

She looked over at the Washington, seeing a third plane brought onto the parallel catapult.

CAG saw the plane rocket down the runway and into the air. At the same time, he turned the nose of his plane toward the large carrier. He could see sailors on the deck of the ship.

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Infected sailors, he reminded himself. He took a look to his right as he passed by the Arizona. He could swear he saw someone on the bridge looking straight at him. He flicked a half salute, then turned his attention back to the deck of the carrier. He saw the two planes in launch position and aimed directly for them.

As the deck rapidly approached, CAG suddenly remembered a prayer he'd been taught by his mother so many years ago. He began reciting it as he lost altitude and continued to accelerate.

Lockhart watched the F-14 and it was only when it was less than a quarter mile from the carrier that she realized what the pilot was planning on doing. As the part of her controlled by the nanovirus yelled commands, the smaller part that was her free self mentally saluted the pilot.

The commands were far too late. The crews manning one of the 20mm Phalanxes on the carrier got off a short burst that missed badly and the escort ships were too slow to react. The F-14 traversed the last quarter mile in just a couple of seconds before slamming into the Washington just forward of the two planes loaded on the catapults. The aircraft exploded, ripping open the flight deck and blasting down through the hangar deck into the bowels of the ship. Secondary explosions from fuel on board waiting planes rocked the ship.

The forward speed of the carrier fanned the flames, which enveloped planes farther back on the flight deck. One by one they also exploded, adding to the carnage and destruction. The captain of the Washington immediately ordered the engine room to reverse thrust to bring the massive ship to a halt before the flames engulfed the entire ship. He gave the order with tears in his eyes, forced to by the nanovirus, while

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his core wanted to keep the ship moving, to burn it all up. He could look down on the deck and watch his sailors fighting the fire, getting too close, forced by the nanovirus, and being burned alive. More sailors would move forward to take their

place.

Lockhart immediately issued orders for the entire Alien Fleet to halt. The shield generator was on board the Jahre Viking and the options were either keep moving and leave the Washington practically undefended, or halt the entire fleet until the fire was brought under control.

She checked status of repairs on the Stennis. The nanovirus was very efficient.

It would have one catapult ready for launch in eighteen minutes.

MOUNT ARARAT

Leaving Briggs and Kakel at the entrance, Yakov had made his way along the walkway to the Master Guardian. He was standing on a three-foot-wide, black metal ledge, which went all around the pyramid. He placed his hands on the Master Guardian. Nothing. The surface lacked the glow he had seen on the golden guardians. He looked around. The pyramid was in the exact center of a perfect sphere and the walls were featureless. He could see no visible means of support for the guardian unless it was the ledge and the walkway.

"Trouble," Major Briggs called out in a low yell.

Yakov ran back to join them. Briggs was lying on his stomach, peering down the center corridor, showing as little of his body as possible. Kakel was against the far wall, also slightly leaning out and looking. Yakov peeked around the corner and saw what had alerted Briggs. Several tall figures were slowly walking their way. They were so far away that

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Yakov couldn't see much detail, but he did note the red hair, the spears in their hands, and the disproportionate bodies.

"Airlia," he whispered.

"We don't have much time," Briggs said.

"We do not control our fate," Yakov said. "That is up to Major Turcotte. He must free Excalibur so I can access the Master Guardian."

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CHAPTER 19: THE PRESENT

MOUNT EVEREST

Major Turcotte had stopped. Both hands were wrapped around the sling attached to his harness and he was leaning against the side of Mount Everest, hunched, lungs screaming for oxygen. He felt far removed from the world and the troubles that had precipitated his coming here and climbing the mountain.

Morris had said that the blood packing would last for forty-eight hours.

Turcotte wondered how the medic knew that; had they tested it? Or was it a typical military SWAG— stupid wild-ass guess? The pounding in his head was worse; he couldn't even come close to feeling like he had caught his breath, and his extremities felt like lead pipes.

He dully felt something vibrate the rope. Again. Reluctantly, Turcotte turned his head. Mualama was still moving along the ledge, heading for the cornice, jerking the rope with each step. Turcotte saw frozen blood around the edges of the archaeologist's oxygen mask. He was amazed the older man was still moving.

Leaning back on the rope Turcotte reached inside his parka. He pulled out a small metal thermos. He carefully unscrewed the cap. Steam rose out of the small opening. He pulled his oxygen mask away, distantly feeling skin rip where it had frozen to his face. He didn't care at all about that as he slowly tipped the thermos and felt the scalding hot coffee pour into his mouth. In reality, he figured the coffee was

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lukewarm at best, but it burned into his core as it went down his throat He tucked the thermos under one arm and reached with his free hand once more inside his parka. Two pills lay in his gloved hand. The amphetamines that Morris had given him with his dire warning about their use. Turcotte took one, popped it in his mouth and washed it down with another mouthful of coffee, then did the same with the second.

The rope vibrated again and Turcotte almost lost his grip. He was reminded of the Darby Queen obstacle course at Ranger School at Fort Benning so many years earlier. There was a rope climb where there were so many students making it across at the same time that when one fell the entire thing whipsawed, often tossing off others.

Turcotte grabbed hold of the rope with both hands, pulled his left foot free of the mountain, swung it a foot to the side, and slammed it in. He was moving again.

McGraw hammered in two pieces of protection before checking out the three bodies lying on the thin ledge. Two were dressed in ancient clothing. And in the center sat someone with more recent, but still old clothing. And behind them, encased in a wall of ice, the scabbard with Excalibur inside of it.

McGraw reached over his shoulder and pulled an ice ax off his pack. As he pulled it back to strike the ice, Olivetti tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the northeast. A line of dots extended across a ledge about five hundred meters away. Olivetti pointed to himself, then once more at the climbers. McGraw nodded and turned his attention to the ice.

Olivetti put in two pieces of protection, then leaned back in his harness. He pulled his pack off, attaching it to one of the slings, then opened it, pulling out a hard plastic case about three feet long. Wedging the case between himself 279

and the mountain, Olivetti opened it, removing a barrel and stock/receiver. He slid the barrel into the receiver and twisted, locking it in place. A scope was already in place on top and he pulled a ten-round magazine out, slamming it home. He tucked two more magazines into his parka.

He pulled the bolt back, putting a round in the chamber. Leaning back, he ignored the case, which tumbled away down the mountain. He put the rifle against his shoulder and sighted on the last in line. In between breaths, he smoothly pulled the trigger. He was already shifting to the next figure in line before the bullet reached its first target.

For a few moments, everyone thought the trail climber had slipped as the Chinese soldier slid down the mountain, then came to an abrupt halt as the safety line cinched tight. The other eleven climbers all gripped the mountain, holding on against the weight of the fallen man. But then they all heard the echo of the shot. Just then the next-to-last man was hit and tumbled off.

Lexina, second from the front, found she was struggling even harder for air as the harness around her waist tightened from the pressure on the safety rope. It was Aksu, climbing lead, who realized the danger as his third man was hit.

"Cut the line!" he screamed toward the rear.

A bullet hit the third from rear in the head, splattering the snow and ice with blood and brains. The fourth from rear had heard Aksu and had been reaching for a knife, but abandoned the effort in order to be able to avoid getting pulled off the face of the mountain by the deadweight of three bodies dangling below.

Lexina didn't waste any time as she pulled a knife from her belt and turned around. Coridan was the climber behind her and he had both hands on the safety rope, holding tight. Another shot rang out as Lexina slashed down with the knife,

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cutting the rope between herself and her fellow One Who Waits.

Without the support of Lexina and Aksu, the surviving climbers behind her didn't have the strength to hold up the weight of the four dead. They were peeled off the mountain one by one, Coridan the last to go. He was reaching out toward Lexina as the rope pulled him away, tumbling down the side of Everest.

Lexina turned back to the front and looked. She could see someone leaning out from the side of the mountain ahead, a rifle in his hands, and she realized she had only gained a moment's respite with her instinctive action.

Aksu had pulled his weapon from his pack and was trying to aim, while at the same time maintaining a grip on the mountain. He was bringing it up one-handed to his shoulder when a round from the sniper hit him in the chest. His body bounced back and he dropped the gun, but still he managed to hold on to the protection he had just put in.

Lexina desperately searched for someplace to hide, but they were in the middle of a flat space. She scrambled forward toward Aksu, trying to put his body between her and the sniper.

Turcotte heard the shots and could tell they were emanating not far from his location, just around the cornice where the two climbers had disappeared. It was less than ten meters away and from the first shot he had increased his climb, trading safety for speed, closing on Mualama.

Through the telescopic site, Olivetti could see the last members of the Chinese expedition. Next to him, McGraw was working steadily at the ice, chipping away.

With one hand, Olivetti ejected the empty magazine and grabbed for 281