Pulling The Dragon's Tail (47 page)

Es scanned the environment, then her gaze came
back to Nate. She hadn’t anticipated this reaction. She retrieved
his gun and kneeled down next to him. “Nate. Skip. I know—”

He waved his hand and buried his head into his
knees. “I’m not blaming you, Es. I did it. I’m responsible. Why’d I
do it?” Then, as if to confirm it was not a dream, he glanced over
at the dead body. “Father Abraham, forgive me! Step One: We admit
we are powerless as individuals to successfully cope with upheavals
resulting from technological improvements and human folly. Step
Two: We came to believe that a Super Being who had first come to
Abraham the patriarch in 1889—”

She would have no more of his self-loathing.
“You are alive Skip because you are not ready for an evil Red Dawn
soldier to end your life or mine. It is a power to use carefully,
never thoughtlessly. You used that power today. You did not let
this solder claim me or you.”

His sobbing slowly ebbed but every fiber in his
being ached.

Es shook him by the shoulders. He looked up,
face swollen with tears. “Es, I…”

“Life needs you Skip! I need you, Dugan needs
you, and right now the world needs you to try and stop Red Dawn! We
have a job to do. Are you going to feel sorry for yourself over
killing one person, while there are thousands who may die if we
don’t disable the bombs? What choice are you going to make?”

A moment later he struggled to his feet. He
wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. He saw Es head up the mountain.
“Father Abraham, take this man into your keeping. Eyes open and
face to the sky.” He made the sign of CHOFA, and with a mighty sigh
he tore himself away from the dead soldier. A moment later he
caught up to Es.

“All enemy soldiers have been subdued. The base
is clear,” announced Es.

“Any chance we can talk to them?” asked
Nate.

Es replied, “The ones we didn’t get committed
suicide before we got to them.”

* * * * * *

Nearly two hundred years had passed since Cumbre
Vieja’s last explosion, plenty of time to allow vegetation to grow
back on the slopes. The encampment was approximately three hundred
meters below the crest of the volcano.

The fault line was easily spotted, an
indentation in the ground that was several feet across at places.
Several wooden buildings dotted the encampment. “They’ve been here
for a while,” observed Nate, eyes scanning the camp, noting
portable generators and mounds of strewn trash. With Dugan was
reassembled, Nate directed the CCR to take photos of the
encampment.

Ben, the TH commander, approached Es. “Recon
shows that they have been drilling deep into the fault line. We
also found residue of substances that indicate bomb-making
material.”

“Radioactive?” inquired Es.

“Yes.”

Nate looked over at Es, and said, “We’re sitting
on top of a nuclear bomb.”

“Correction,” said Ben. “Five nuclear bombs. Our
comrades at the other four encampments found the same radioactive
residue.”

“Dugan,” said Nate, “send the photos you’ve
taken to everyone that Es and Thatcher have contacted in the last
twenty-four hours. Maybe there’s a chance to save some lives if
we…”

“…can stop the bombs,” Es finished his thought
and took off running in the direction of the fault line. Nate and
Dugan trailed after her. A few minutes later they arrived at the
hole that had been drilled into the fault line. Es had instructed
the others soldiers to keep searching for clues in the surrounding
buildings and nearby terrain.

Nate, peering into the hole, was incredulous.
“There’s an entire mineshaft down there.”

“One thing is for sure,” said Es, “they were not
drilling for gold.”

Lightning flashed several kilometers away, and
thunder boomed, startling them both. “That’s not funny,” he said
with face upturned to the heavens.

The two-meter wide hole in the ground contained
scaffolding that descended below and disappeared into the darkness.
Long lengths of sturdy rope lie next to a nearby shed. Nate ran to
gather the rope. As he did so his foot slipped inside the fault
line crevice.
How long would that crevice last?
he wondered.
A hundred or a thousand more years, or mere hours, minutes,
seconds?
“I’ll go down there,” he said, struggling to control a
rising panic sensation, gazing into the dark, enclosed space
below.

“No, I will do it” volunteered Es.

“No,” Dugan interrupted. “The only logical plan
is for me to be lowered inside the shaft.”

“I won’t allow that,” Nate responded.

“Skip, there is no time to argue. You all risked
your lives to get to this point. I am lightweight and can easily be
positioned on a rope. It would not be prudent, in fact it would be
foolish to prevent me from going down inside to investigate.”

“Dugan, we don’t know if the nuclear material is
ready for detonation or not,” replied Es, but even she couldn’t
sway the logic and the determination of the CCR.

“We do not have time to debate. Lower me down
now.”

Reluctantly, Nate agreed. Es and Nate removed
their stealth fatigues. Es turned off her nutations so that her
head remained perfectly still. A moment later, tied securely to the
rope, Dugan was lowered inside the gaping hole. Immediately, he
began to send back live video feed downloaded to their
dataports.

“Any idea how deep it is?” asked a nervous
Nate.

“Do I look like a sonar machine?” the CCR
responded.

Maybe he does understand humor
, thought
Nate.

Ten meters showed nothing but hard, molten rock.
Hand over hand they lowered the rope.

Something suddenly flew out, startling both Es
and Nate.

“What was that?”

“Chiropteran,” replied Dugan.

“What?”

“Bats.”

Nate sighed. Dugan was right. He
was
the
most logical choice to go down into the hole for a variety of
reasons, not the least of which was his smaller size. He bit his
lip savagely as he also thought that another reason for Dugan to
brave the depths was because he was expendable.

Fifteen meters down. Dugan’s light shone around,
revealing a fairly uniform passageway, igneous rock formations
showing that a volcano sat beneath them.

Twenty meters down. At each meter, Nate and Es
stopped the lowering of the rope, giving Dugan time to turn around
for a complete scan.

Twenty-three meters down. “I hear a beep,” Dugan
stated.

The camera mounted on the CCR swung around.

“Quickly, lower me down one more meter!” Dugan
ordered.

Through their dataport monitors, Es and Nate saw
what Dugan now saw: an apple-sized machine attached to the rock
wall.

“It’s a bot,” said Dugan matter-of-factly.

Nate’s heart leaped.
A bomb? Could a small
nuclear device be contained in such a small package?

“Attempting to scan.”

“If it’s a bomb or if you’ve tripped something,
I want you out post haste.”

“If it blows now then we’re all dead anyway,”
commented Es stoically.

She’s right. Despite all my efforts to stay
alive, despite my taking a human life; how ironic that I might
still die.
“I’m not giving up on you Dugan!” He renewed his
tight grip on the rope.

A moment later, Dugan said, “Interesting. This
is the most sophisticated bot I have ever encountered. It is made
of a composite of silicon and a nano-engineered plastic that is as
hard as steel and light as a feather.”

“What else do you detect?” Nate asked.
Stick
to the point, Dugan.

“It contains one point three terrabytes of
data.”

“That’s a lot for such a small device,” observed
Es.

The low decibel beep had now increased in
frequency and intensity. “The bot has rotated slightly toward me.
It must have some sort of hinge beneath it.”

“What do you think’s happening?” queried
Nate.

“I believe it is scanning me.” Infrared lights
passed back and forth over Dugan.

A small antenna-like wire pushed out of the side
of the bot, extending several centimeters.

“Is it armed with a weapon?” asked Es.

Before anyone could answer, the end of the
protuberance suddenly sprayed something. Es and Nate instinctively
reacted as if it sprayed them.

“Dugan!”

“I am okay, Skip. I appear to be encased in some
kind of foam.”

Now it was Es’ turn to sound intense. “If that
is a military type of foam, Dugan, then we could be in
trouble.”

“Foam?” inquired Nate.

“Militaries use it to disable people or
machinery. The foam often contains neurotoxins; the greater the
concentration of toxins, the deadlier the consequences,” answered
the transhuman.

“Currently analyzing its contents.” A moment
later, Dugan added, “It does appear to be a pesticide designed to
paralyze a victim.”

“Chemical warfare?” asked Nate.

“It only affects humans. Dugan will be fine.
Sheridan wouldn’t have anticipated somebody like Dugan,” said a
slightly reassured Es.

“Are you okay then?” asked Nate.

“Yes, still scanning. A repeated pattern occurs
a total of twenty-nine times. Continuing analysis. Analysis
completed. There are 29 microbots inside the larger bot.”

“Microbots?”

“Microbots,” explained Es, “are the size of a
bumblebee, and like a bee they are able to fly.” She stopped, face
frozen, no longer able to continue her emotionless, fact-filled
explanation. “What if they are to help coordinate the
detonation?”

Nate didn’t understand her concern. “By flying
into the air?”

“Yes. It is possible they could communicate with
other bots,” Es replied.

“But they’re not moving,” said Nate, staring at
Dugan’s monitor via his dataport.

“Yet,” added Es ominously.

“Dugan, if Es’ theory is correct, is there any
way you can detect whether the bot has a timer, some kind of a
clock, or any kind of build-up?”

“I am attempting to access the bot’s control
panel.”

“Isn’t this going a bit too smoothly?” whispered
Nate to Es. “I mean, a security bot that this easily allows Dugan
inside of it?”

“A trap? Perhaps. But maybe Dugan is just that
good,” suggested Es. She readjusted her position in holding the
rope.

“Agreed,” said Nate, “but we’re still dealing
with the full resources of Sheridan North and Gideon’s Army.”

“I am inside the control panel,” Dugan
announced.

“And?” asked Nate nervously.

“Given enough time I may be able to disable some
aspects of this system.”

Spoken like a computer who’s developing an
ego,
he thought. Winds whipped down the side of the volcano,
pulling cool air down Nate’s dirt-stained short-sleeved T-shirt.
The sky visibly darkened as storm clouds prepared to cool off the
steamy jungle below. Yet the midday sun still beat down mercilessly
on top of the island. Nate took a swig of water from Es’s backpack.
“Time is precious. Do what you can.”

An airplane roared overhead. Es quickly
contacted the soldiers guarding the encampment. “Are they friend or
foe?”

“It is a commercial airliner,” announced a
soldier through their dataport mikes.

Es turned her attention back to Dugan. “What
system are you focusing on? This particular bot or the
microbots?”

“Perhaps more than either of those. I have
detected a cascading effect. That means the way one bomb detonates
will affect the others in a progression.”

“This bot does not contain the bomb though,
right?” Nate asked.

“I believe that is correct. The fission material
lies below us another 150 meters.” Dugan continued. “Logic dictates
that if this cascading effect can be interrupted or interfered
with, then the subsequent bombs may be reduced in intensity.”

“What if you compound the effect instead?” asked
a worried Nate.

“The microbots have been released!” yelled
Es.

Sounding just like humming insects, they
disappeared out of Dugan’s video range.

“Do we have a tarp or blanket around here?” she
yelled frantically. “Here, hold the rope!” She leaped over the
fault’s crevice and ran toward the rickety wooden shed. She spied a
tarp inside the shed, grabbed it, and made her way back.

“Hurry! They’re coming!”

At the last second, she threw it toward the hole
in a desperate attempt to capture the bots. But the effort only
knocked a few of the minute flying robots to the ground. The vast
majority rose high up into the air. Es caught one in her hand,
threw it to the ground, and stomped on it. Futilely she swatted at
several more.

Dugan swung wildly as a result of Nate’s attempt
to help Es by trying to impede the progress of the microbots.

“Skip, please hold me steady! Good news! Their
release has allowed me to fully access the control panel.”

“Dugan, no matter what you say to the contrary,
this
can’t
be good news. Has any countdown timer to
detonation been set?”

“Yes,” replied the CCR.

It took a brief moment of shock for Nate to
realize the implication. “How long, Dugan?” He saw Es holding her
breath.

“Fourteen minutes, forty-five seconds,” reported
the CCR.

“We’re getting Dugan out right now. Es, contact
your TH soldiers. We gotta move!”

Es contacted the soldiers via dataport mikes.
“Head down the mountain. We have less than fifteen minutes before
the western flank goes. Get to the ‘copters, three of you wait
there for us, the rest go to the boat and plane.”

“Nate. I am staying down here” said Dugan.

“Don’t be silly! We don’t time for
this…independence,” scolded Nate.

“Dugan,” Es weighed in. “We’re pulling you
up.”

“To my good friend, Es, I respectfully say no,”
replied the CCR.