Thunderbird (32 page)

Brad's heart was pounding as he followed Lynda into the building. He couldn't speak for anyone else, of course, but he was embarrassed as he leaned back against a wall and watched Boots, April, and John come in behind him. “Okay,” said April. “Let's clear out.”

Patrick lingered outside, still looking at the sky. Finally, he came in.

•   •   •

W
ALKER
WAS
WAITING
in the Roundhouse when they arrived. He made no effort to hide his shock as they told him about the plane. “Okay,” he said. “We don't go back there again. It's too dangerous.”

“We can't do that,” said Patrick. “I'm pretty sure we saw Andromeda in the sky.”

“So what?” asked Walker.

“Let me see what else is there, Mr. Chairman. We might get the key to
what this is all about.” The only people in the Roundhouse, other than the six travelers, were the chairman and the security force.

“What else could there be?”

“Please, Mr. Chairman. Trust me. This is too important. We might also want to think about putting together a contact team. Eventually, we're going to have to do that. We can't just walk away from this.”

Walker looked at April. “What do you think?”

“I have no problem going back in a few hours. I'm pretty sure they don't know we were there. And the area we were in isn't inhabited. So okay. But I'm a bit reluctant about going over to say hello when we don't know anything about who we're dealing with.”

The chairman shifted his attention back to Patrick. “Why does it matter?”

“It
does
, Mr. Chairman.” Patrick's eyes came alive.
“Please.”

Walker stood quietly for a moment, then glanced at April. She was nodding.

“Okay,” he said. “Go when the time seems right to you. But take no chances. Understood?”

Patrick nodded. “All right, Mr. Chairman.”

“When do you want to go back?” asked April.

“How about four hours? That might not work because we don't know how long their days are. But it gives us a decent chance.”

She looked at George and John. “Is that okay for you guys?”

They both indicated yes.

Walker managed a pained smile. “All right. Just try not to get yourselves killed.”

“Good,” said April. “Meet back here.”

Brad wasn't sure he wanted to go there again, but if Patrick could figure out where that place was, it would be an even bigger story than the plane. “April,” he said. “I'd like to go, too.”

Walker indicated he saw no problem. He glanced at the two astronauts. “I assume,” he added, “we should also keep Melissa and Boots on board?”

“We're still not exactly experts with the suits,” April said. “We'd like to have one of you guys. Or both, if it's okay.”

They exchanged smiles. “Easiest space travel ever,” said Boots. “I'll be here.”

Melissa gave them a thumbs-up. “Me, too.”

“All right.” Walker seemed satisfied. “We'll meet back here at eight. Now we have one other issue.” He looked toward the exit. Only Patrick and Lynda appeared uncertain what he was referring to. “The press,” he added. “Let me handle it.” He signaled Sandra Whitewing. She went over and opened the door.

The reporters flooded in.

The first question, as usual, addressed the issue of aliens. “Did you find anybody?” asked ABC. “Was anybody there?”

“They saw a plane,” said Walker.

And that dominated the conversation for the next fifteen minutes. But everyone was embarrassed when they discovered they'd forgotten to get pictures of it.

Then they talked about the ruins. There were plenty of photos of those. “Most depressing thing I've ever seen,” said the
Chicago Tribune
. “You guys have a name for this place?”

“How about
Comatose
?” said Melissa.

I wandered through the wrecks of days departed

Far by the desolated shore, when even

O'er the still sea and jagged islets darted

The light of moonrise; in the northern Heaven,

Among the clouds near the horizon driven,

The mountains lay beneath one planet pale;

Around me, broken tombs and columns riven

Looked vast in twilight, and the sorrowing gale

Waked in those ruins gray its everlasting wail!

—Percy Shelley,
The Revolt of Islam
, 1818

W
ALKER
PROVIDED
ACCOMMODATIONS
for everybody at the Spirit Lake Resort in Fort Totten. “What we need to do,” said Boots, as they sat in the restaurant, “is go to the top of the ridge and see what's there.”

“Do we have any mountain climbers here?” asked April. “We'd need a special team.”

“You really think that's a good idea?” asked Brad. “Not sure how we'd get there in the suits. And if we made it, we'd be too visible and have no place to run if we got spotted.”

“I agree,” said Melissa. “I think Patrick was right. We should have let them see us. I wonder how they'd have responded?”

Lynda was chewing on a tuna sandwich. “Why don't we try that tonight?” she said. “Settle it. If we see them again.”

Patrick was sitting at the far end of the table, nibbling on scrambled eggs.
“I'm having second thoughts about waving at them. Maybe we should just try to see what's going on.”

“You really think you can figure out where that place is?” asked Boots.

“Maybe.”

Brad saw Lynda exchange glances with Patrick. She knew what this was about. And she tried to change the subject: “We need a name for it.”

Melissa grinned. “You don't like
Comatose
?”

“Maybe
Desolation Point
,” said Boots. “The place is a wreck. Why is it so important, Patrick?”

“I'll tell you after I've had another chance to look at the sky.” He shook his head. “That place has been a wreck for thousands of years, probably millions. But it has a cupola. I can understand an advanced species putting star ports on Eden, or at the Maze and the spaceport. Even near Lake Agassiz if they enjoy boating. But I can only think of one reason why anybody would want to visit
that
place.”

“And what's that?” asked Brad.

Patrick grinned. “Let's see if we can get a better look at the sky.”

•   •   •

A
DMIRAL
B
ONNER
FIRMLY
believed that the solution to every problem was to bomb it. Despite that, Taylor kept him on because the guy was inevitably right in his threat assessments. He just didn't believe in talking his way through disagreements. He had earned his sobriquet
Bomber
.

He had a talent for making other people's opinions seem ridiculous. Taylor was sitting contemplating what Chairman Walker had told him about aircraft at this latest place, wishing it would just all go away, when his secretary announced the admiral's arrival.

“Send him in,” he said.

He was tall, straightforward, and, given a Revolutionary uniform, could easily have posed for a George Washington portrait. “Good afternoon, Mr. President,” he said.

Taylor looked up from the desk. He, of course, understood what the
Bomber's position would be. “Good afternoon, Admiral. Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you, sir.” He lowered himself onto the sofa. “I won't take much of your time, Mr. President. I wanted to inquire whether you've changed your mind?”

“About the Roundhouse?”

“Of course. We have to shut it down, sir. Seize the damned thing and get rid of it. Even if you were able to secure the technology, your successor, or
his
successor, will try to make the applications available to the military, and possibly even to American industry. That would be a disaster, as I'm sure you realize. We will not be able to keep it out of the hands of those who wish us only harm. The opportunity to get past this thing is here and now. It won't come again. And I assure you, sir, if we let it get away, we will all live to regret it. Or maybe not.”

•   •   •

A
PAIR
OF
vans took everyone from the Spirit Lake Resort to Johnson's Ridge. Walker arrived a few minutes later. John and one of the U.S. marshals came out to help him get through the media, who kept asking him about the desolation world.

He laughed and waved and said, several times, “We don't know anything yet. It's hot, it's a disaster area, and yes, there was an airplane.” He wished he'd kept quiet about the plane.

The pool reporters were inside, taking pictures and conducting interviews. He talked to a few of them, explaining that he was hoping to see another aircraft. It was a lie, of course. He'd happily have sent six more missions to the place if he could get some assurance they'd see nothing but ruins.

“If the plane comes back this time, Mr. Chairman, will they get some pictures?”

“Probably,” he said, “as long as we can do that without exposing our presence. We'd like to get a sense who we're dealing with.”

Naturally, that brought questions about how they'd ever learn who they
were dealing with until they made contact. But he waved them off. “I can't keep repeating the same thing,” he told them. “We're exercising due caution.”

He watched April and her people get into their pressure suits, shook their hands, and wished them luck. “Be careful,” he told them. “Don't let them see you.”

It was almost nine o'clock before they were ready to go. April and George went first as the TV cameras locked in.

•   •   •

T
HEY
PAUSED
AT
the space station to look again at the galaxy. It was at the bottom of the long window, almost out of view. Then they moved on.

John, with his rifle ready and a sidearm on his belt, went first. Moments later, the grid lit up, and John's pen appeared. Lynda picked it up. Then she and Patrick followed.

Brad stood off to one side and watched them go. The mood seemed different this time. It was probably the ancient ruins, the emptiness of the new world, the sense of decay. Whatever it was, the heady optimism was gone.

•   •   •

T
HE
GOOD
NEWS
when they arrived on Desolation Point was that it was still dark. The lights had come on automatically when John stepped off the grid at the transport station. “Better turn them off,” said Brad, assuming they knew how.

“Trying,” said John. “There doesn't seem to be a switch here anywhere.”

April was looking around, too. “Probably like the power in the Roundhouse,” she said. “It activates with movement.”

“So we have to go away to shut them off?” asked George.

“Probably.”

Patrick was already out of the station, studying the sky, holding his telescope. “See anything?” Boots asked.

One of the galaxies was gone. The other two were sinking below the horizon.

“Not yet.”

April was the last one out. A couple of minutes later, the lights dimmed and went off. “Okay,” she said, “we better stay away from it until we're ready to leave.”

Brad was also looking at the stars. He saw no Dipper. No Belt of Orion. Actually, those were the only two constellations he could have identified. He had no idea what Patrick was looking for. The mass of stars that Patrick had said was the Milky Way now dominated the entire eastern sky.

The landscape looked better in starlight than it had under the baking sun.

“We might need a little time,” Patrick said.

“You haven't even used your telescope yet,” said Brad.

He received no reply. Eventually, they picked out pieces of broken stone, all within fifty yards of the transport station, and sat on them. They started talking again about the galaxies. Were they really what Patrick thought? Why did Patrick not want to explain his motives?

“Because if I'm wrong,” he said, “you'll think I'm an idiot.”

The security guys kept looking around to make sure nothing was approaching in the dark. “I wonder,” Melissa said, “why there's a transporter here?” It was the question they'd all been asking themselves. Who had been in the aircraft? Why would anyone want to come to this place?

The conversation went round and round. “I think,” said Melissa, “as a next step, we'll need an archeological team to come in and have a look.”

Lynda couldn't take her eyes off the broken buildings. “You think archeological expertise would have any significance once it gets away from Earth?”

Nobody knew.

“This is the gloomiest place I've ever seen,” said Boots.

George was looking for somewhere more comfortable to sit. “I wonder,” he said, “if the people flying the plane yesterday are visitors? Or just survivors? Maybe they're here because they have no choice.”

“I don't think anybody could live here,” said Lynda. “Why would anyone stay here when they have a transport station out?”

“I don't know,” said George. “Maybe they don't know what it is. Like the Arkons. Or maybe they like warm weather.” He laughed.

Brad had seen a few end-of-the-world movies, but they always had to do with alien invasions or asteroid collisions. The end came quickly. But what, he wondered, would it be like on a world that, for some reason, was spiraling in toward its sun? Getting hotter every day? The streets would be filled with desperate mobs. Presumably nobody would be working, so there'd be no food, no water. “You know,” he said, “I'm beginning to see why we should take NASA a little more seriously.”

“Some of us,” said Boots, “have been saying that for years.”

George got to his feet and pointed at the sky. “Look. Another plane.” Lights were approaching, on the wings and tail.

Headed toward the ridge again. Descending as it came. But unless it changed its route, it would pass well away from them.

“Get down,” said George. They scrambled for cover behind a load of rubble.

April's voice: “Okay. Everybody stay put.” She got up and started walking toward the approaching aircraft.

“What are you doing, April?” said George. “Get back here.”

“You guys just stay where you are. Let's get this settled.”

George hurried over and grabbed her. But before he could do anything else, she turned on her wrist lamp and pointed it at the plane. “Stop!” he said.

“Relax, George.”

He lifted her off her feet and began to carry her back.

“Will you knock it off?” she said.

Brad wanted to tell him to put her down, but he didn't like the idea of drawing the plane's attention. He kept quiet and watched.

“I thought,” said Patrick, “this is precisely the thing we didn't want to do.”

The suits were getting in the way. April and George both tumbled to the ground. Then she was up, and her helmet light was on. “I changed my mind. Anybody want to make for the station and clear out? You've got time.”

Nobody moved. Had he been alone, Brad would have bolted. He
suspected most of the others would have, too. But maybe April was right: Maybe it was time to settle things.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought the plane's angle of approach was changing.

“Toward us,” said Lynda.

“Damn it.” Patrick sounded annoyed.

“Everybody please keep quiet!” said George. “Stay off the radio.”

“It's seen us,” said Melissa. Brad would have said the same thing, but he didn't trust his voice.

April was back on her feet but still in George's grip. “It's seen
me
,” she said. “And Hulk Hogan here. The rest of you stay out of sight.” He finally released her, and she resumed walking.

George threw up his hands and chased after her. “Will you please back off?”

The aircraft was coming down with some forward motion, but mostly it was a vertical descent. “It's headed over there,” said Boots, pointing at an open stretch of ground about a hundred yards away.

“April.” Melissa sounded frustrated. “Slow down! You fall out there and tear the suit, and you're dead.”

“Would everybody
please
stay off the radio,” said George.

Lynda was next to Brad. She grabbed hold of his arm. She said nothing, but there was no mistaking the gesture.
It doesn't matter anymore.

April stumbled. But she recovered her balance and stayed on her feet. George caught up with her and put an arm on her shoulder. She took the hint and stopped. The aircraft was descending into the open area. Brad and the others were still behind the rubble. There probably wasn't much point hiding, but he wasn't going to stand up. Nor was anyone else.

Brad still couldn't figure out what kept the plane in the air. It had jets and wings. And it looked like an ordinary passenger plane, relatively small, like the one they'd seen earlier. He wasn't certain, but he thought the cabin had a line of windows. April and George stopped about halfway to the edge of the open area into which the vehicle was descending. Brad
wanted to tell April to give it up, to come back so they could all get out while there was still time. But he knew that would accomplish nothing except getting yelled at for using the radio.

Briefly, a light in the cockpit came on and then went off. The fuselage had markings but nothing he could read.

The descent slowed and stopped at about a hundred feet, where it simply hovered for a minute. Finally, it settled to the ground. Its lights stayed on. A door opened in the center of the fuselage. April and George went a few steps closer.

They were all holding their breath. Brad saw movement in the cockpit. And then at the door. A figure in purple clothing—it looked like a jumpsuit—appeared. It stood several seconds, looking out at them. He couldn't make out a face, but it had human dimensions. It stepped forward away from the cabin and, incredibly,
floated
to the ground. It was in shadow, too far away to make out what it looked like.