Edge of the Vortex Page 20

  37

  The White House

  12 March

  President George Bednarik had a throbbing headache. The non-stop chatter from his Chief of Staff Nicholas Beaudrot and National Security Advisor Zach North wasn’t helping things, but a tasty glass of bourbon in his hand was doing its best to soothe his pain.

  “What?” The President asked, looking up from his drink.

  “We can’t allow things to continue as they are.” Zach said in an aggressive tone. “Mr President, every day without action is another day that we suffer under the yoke of these tyrants.” Zach was true to form, the hawk in the room.

  Nick shook his head. “There is nothing we can do, and after the attack on the six cities, there have been no further attacks.” He looked at his long-time colleague, then over to the President. “Sir, we need to thank our lucky stars and Jesus Christ our saviour that the country hasn’t torn itself to pieces yet. We’ve deployed massive numbers of troops to the streets of almost every major city, police forces are doing their best to keep a lid on the urge to retaliate, and,” he shook his head and looked down at his half-filled glass. “With the current situation of our armed forces as they are, any attack on the aliens would meet with disaster.” He picked up a piece of paper that was on the desk. “NORAD is having troubles getting our ICBMs back on-line. The Air Force is practically useless at the moment. Only the ground forces have any real capability, and those forces are garrisoned in towns and cities trying to maintain some form of law and order.” He took another sip from his drink and looked at the President.

  “I agree with you, Zach. I’d like nothing more than to launch a full-scale attack on these bastards, but we’re virtually defenceless as it is. Nick is right. We’ve got to sit tight and pray that the Alliance comes back and kicks these bastards out.”

  Zach took another sip of his drink. “Any effort to retake this planet will come with a hefty cost.” He shook his head. “I fear that that price might be too high to pay.”

  Before another word could be spoken, there was a knock on the door to the Oval Office, and a Secret Service agent poked his head in. “Mr President, Director Simmons is here.”

  The President rose from his chair and waved to indicate that she should be admitted at once. The door opened further, and the beautiful dark-skinned head of the Central Intelligence Agency walked into the room in a pinstriped suit with shoes with a low heel. Her tall, athletic frame crossed the distance to the President quickly.

  “Mr President.” She said, shaking his hand.

  “Director Simmons, good to see you, it’s been some time.” The President replied.

  “I haven’t had much to discuss, Sir.”

  Zach handed her a glass half filled with bourbon and gave her a wink. He had always fancied her, then again, most people who met her would share that sentiment.

  The President directed Simmons towards a nearby couch. “So, Angela, what brings you to us today?” The President who sat down on the sofa opposite Simmons, while Zach and Nick took their seats at two chairs closest to the fireplace at the base of the room.

  “Mr President, as you know, the intelligence community, like the rest of the assets of this great nation, are working together on a daily basis to figure how to proceed under the alien occupation, and we might have just had the break we’ve been looking for.” Simmons set down her yet untouched bourbon on a side table and pulled out a single piece of A4 paper from her inside breast pocket and opened it methodically. She scanned the paper once, then looked up at the President and his two advisors. “Sir, Canadian intelligence has discovered that there is a small Alliance ground force on the planet, and it is currently working with Doctor Keegan Beck of the Visitor Liasion Team and,” She paused and took a deep breath, then locked eyes with the President. “Tohil Technologies.”

  “Those!” Zach blurted out, but restrained himself.

  Angela nodded. “Yes, Sir. Those bastards.”

  The President inched forward. “Is there any more detail?”

  “No. It seems that the Alliance forces and Doctor Beck made their way to the Tohil facilities from British Columba with the assistance of Tohil, but we still don’t know why they are in league with John Robert and Tohil.”

  Nick took a sip from his glass, then lowered it just an inch from his mouth. “John Robert has got something.”

  Everyone in the room looked at the Chief of Staff.

  “Tohil killed Bobby Temple.” He waved his hand around. “Or his death was a result of Tohil actions, which means Doctor Beck would have no reason to ever do business with Tohil unless.” He let the word hang in the air.

  “Jesus.” Zach blurted out.

  The President smiled and shook his head. “That Robert is a slippery character.” He said, taking another sip from his glass. “You’re right Nick. No chance Doctor Beck would take Alliance forces to see John Robert unless there was something involved we’re missing.” He looked at Simmons. “How’d you get this information? Canadian intelligence?”

  “That is correct. They didn’t give the source of the intel, but I have to believe them. They wouldn’t dream making this up.” She said, then finally took a sip from her glass.

  “We’ve got Tohil, Alliance forces, and Doctor Beck in Canada plotting something.” The President said, leaning back into the couch. “We need to learn more. What’s their plan? What can we do to help.” He rubbed the end of his nose for a second, then looked at Simmons. “I need you to get us in touch with them. As soon as possible.”

  Simmons nodded. “I’ll see what can be done, Mr President.”

  The President and his two advisors nodded in unison.

  “This could be something. Something big.” The President said, finishing the rest of his bourbon in a final sip, then looked at Angela. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for, but we need to tread carefully.” The President looked into his empty glass. “Very carefully.”

  Nick Beaudrot moved to the edge of his chair. “I think it’s time to start the evacuation of Kansas.” He said in an almost hushed tone.

  Zach North nodded. “If Dr Beck and his Alliance contacts can do something to help liberate us, Kansas will be where it all starts.”

  The President looked back into his empty glass. “Kansas.”

  38

  Tohill Facilities, Canada

  14 March

  Doctor Keegan Beck was very impressed with the Tohil facilities in the wilds of eastern Canada. He and the Alliance and Canadian soldiers had been underground for the last eight weeks, and during that period of time they had made great strides in trying to unlock the secrets that the Coalition drone had, and Keegan felt that there was an excellent chance, along with Doctor Stephenson, that they should be able to draft a signal that could get through the shield that enveloped the planet through to the Alliance.

  Of course, there was the elephant in the room every day for Keegan. His wife was dead. Her body had been left on a frozen airfield in Saskatoon, and the only way he knew how to deal with it was to dive head first into his work. He didn’t even know how to get word to his five-year-old child that their mother was dead. He woke up in the middle of the night sometimes and sat in the darkness crying for hours. The next morning he showed up to breakfast looking weak and dishevelled. His sense of humour had started to suffer, and he was unable to be in the same room as John Robert, the Tohil CEO.

  Sergeant Greenleaf had made it his personal mission to keep Keegan’s spirits as high as possible, and that included daily sparring lessons and considerable drinking binges with the Canadian troopers in the afternoons that went into the night. It seemed that there were only a few hours every day that Keegan was actually functional. Late morning. That was about it.

  The one thing that pleasantly surprised him about being at the Tohil facility was the relationship he was rebuilding with Doctor Stephenson. The betrayal in Paraguay had been so profound and cruel that Keegan had considered his old mentor dead to him, but now, in the
bowels of the Tohil facility, surrounded by frozen tundra, the duo picked up where they had been long before the Epsilon had ever crashed on Earth.

  Keegan wasn’t sure what time it was. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, flip-flops, and Pink Floyd t-shirt and his always trusty, if battered tweed coat. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he needed a shower, but no one had said anything to him yet about his dishevelled appearance. A half-consumed bottle of Molson beer was clutched in his left hand while his right hand was gripping the bottom of the stool he was sitting on.

  Six inches from his face was a floor to ceiling glass divide that separated him from a hermetically sealed room where Doctor Stephenson was working on the Coalition Drone with the assistance of one of the Alliance troopers that had an electronics speciality. They had made good progress since they had arrived at the underground lair, but today was the day that a breakthrough was expected.

  Standing next to Keegan on one side was Star Guard Hulo, and on his other was Sergeant Wilson who had taken command of the infantry unit. Both stood with arms crossed, and eyes locked in the direction of the two individuals inside the laboratory. Ten feet away chain smoking was John Robert. Wearing his usual RM Williams boots, and roll-neck. He didn’t speak, he just stood there smoking with about ten subordinates standing behind him, notepads and tablets at the ready.

  “Ready to power up.” Stephenson reported.

  Hulo tapped the comms unit that was on the glass in front of Keegan. “Lak, transponder?”

  The alien stood upright and looked at his superior. “Off, Sir.”

  “Proceed.” Hulo said.

  Keegan was the only one who could understand the Universal without the presence of a translation kit, and for some reason, there wasn’t one present. Even though they were in a Tohil facility, and Doctor Beck was the head of the Visitor Liaison Team, there seemed to be an understanding that Star Guard Hulo was in charge, and calling the shots. So far, nobody had objected.

  “Activating the reactor.” Stephenson said, taking a quick step backwards.

  After the drone had been thoroughly dissected, the Alliance troops had aided the process of hacking the software and other systems with their own systems. Putting the drone back together seemed to be the only way to get the unit’s individual parts to function optimally. So now the egg-shaped machine was fully reconstructed with a single white cable running from the central processing unit to an Alliance datapad that was in the hands of Lak.

  “Unit coming on-line.” Lak reported. “Weapons are off and still in safe mode.”

  That had been a concern of all parties before rebooting the machine. They didn’t need an angry killing machine to go wild in a confided subterranean space once they hit the ‘on’ switch.

  “Sensors online.”

  Keegan brought the bottle of Molson to his lips and took a small sip. He knew the checklist by heart. They had been going over the steps for days before this moment. Everything hinged on the drones communications suite. It needed to first power on, then secondly it needed to not transmit. If the systems were operational, and they had successfully set it not to transmit, they were halfway home.

  “Comms unit activating.” Lak reported. There was a pause of almost sixty seconds before the next report. “Searching for a signal.”

  Hulo looked at Keegan. “It’s waiting for instructions.”

  Keegan nodded. They had anticipated this. A jammer had been placed in the room and had its capabilities enhanced with Alliance tech and know-how in the event that the drone tried to send unwanted transmissions to the Coalition forces in the system.

  “System has switched to transmit mode.” Lak reported.

  This had also been anticipated. Hulo had insisted that the drones navigational system be left off-line in case it attempted to transmit its location to Coalition forces.

  Lak put down the datapad. “The drone has gone into standby mode.” He said.

  Stephenson reached out his hand, and Lak shook his hand.

  Greenleaf patted Keegan on the back. “Looks like it works.”

  Keegan took another sip of beer. Phase one was complete, get the drone up and functioning. Now they needed to craft a communique and transmit it to Alliance forces. That might not be so easy. He brought the bottle back up and finished the lukewarm beer, hopped off his stool and walked off towards the kitchen that was on this level. He needed another drink.

  “Keegan.” The sergeant shoved the sleeping doctor. “Keegan!”

  That got his attention. “Fuck.” Keegan was lying on his back, still fully dressed save his tweed jacket which he had tossed aside. “Beer?”

  “Here.” The sergeant gave him a glass of water.

  Keegan sat up just enough in bed to take a sip. “Disgusting.” He handed the glass off and lay back down. “What’s up?”

  “Hulo has formulated a message to try and send through to the Alliance.” Greenleaf said, sitting down on the side of the bed.

  “And what has that got to do with me?” Keegan asked, his eyes still closed.

  “We’ve got to go to the surface. I thought you’d like the fresh air, and maybe to be there. Historic moment and all.”

  Keegan rolled over onto his side, away from the sergeant. “It’ll be a historic moment when we get fucking rescued.”

  The sergeant stood up and looked down at the dishevelled scientist. After standing in silence for a few seconds, he reached down and grabbed the closest ankle and sharply yanked Keegan’s body off the bed and onto the hard ground of the floor.

  “The fuck?” Keegan exclaimed.

  Sergeant Greenleaf quickly straddled Keegan and delivered a brutal slap across the startled scientists face. “You need to pull yourself the fuck together right now, Doc!” Greenleaf jumped up to his feet and pointed his finger down at Keegan. “You are, like it or not, the man! This is your show, fucker, and you are going to pull yourself together and get your shit together, or we’re going to have to have some remedial lessons on getting your shit together.” Greenleaf bent down until his face was just inches away from Keegan’s. “Now get your shower kit. You need a fucking wash.”

  The sergeant stood upright, and looked around the room, leaving Keegan in a dead-cockroach pose on the ground, still a little shell-shocked.

  “Here.” The sergeant tossed a towel down to Keegan along with his wash-kit. “Let’s go!”

  Fifteen minutes later, Keegan was sipping from a hot cup of tea and was dressed in a fresh set of jeans, t-shirt, and a winter coat. He looked rejuvenated. Putting the cup down, he looked at Sergeant Greenleaf who gave him an approving look.

  “Shall we away to the surface?” Keegan asked.

  The sergeant smiled. “An excellent idea, Doctor.”

  There were several ways to transit the subterranean levels of the Tohil facility, but there were only two ways to the surface, a long sloping drive that vehicles used to enter and leave the facility, and a large lift that brought people to the surface inside an innocuous cabin that was one hundred metres from a nearby lake. When Keegan reached the surface, the cabin was empty. Sergeant Greenleaf led him outside into the chilly March weather, and onto a well-manicured path that led towards the lake.

  There they found about a dozen Tohil scientists, most of the Alliance troopers, and most importantly Doctor Stephenson and John Robert, smoking a cigarette as per his usual practice, huddled around the drone. Keegan pushed through the throng that was surrounding the large machine and looked up at the near clear skies.

  “Good of you to join us, Doctor.” Stephenson said, putting out his hand.

  Keegan shook it, then looked back to the sky, then over to Hulo. “You’re not worried about being spotted?” He asked.

  Hulo shook his head. “We’ve set up a scatter field. Nothing above one hundred metres will be able to see or detect us right now.” He replied.

  Keegan looked around and noticed that all the Alliance soldiers were fully equipped with kit and weapons. It seemed that Hulo wasn’t t
aking any chances.

  “What about the transmission?” He asked.

  Hulo walked over to the drone and put his hand on it. “We’ve been able to access all communications systems and as such, the signal we send will have the signature of a Coalition transmission, but will be coded for Alliance forces only.”

  “But will they detect the signal?” Keegan pressed. “Even if the Coalition can’t read the message, won’t the ships in orbit identify the signal and track us that way?”

  Hulo shook his head. “Negative. Firstly, there must be many Coalition signals bouncing around the system. A single transmission won’t raise any suspicions. And this signal is going to be beamed off-world after a little indirect signal trickery.”

  Keegan nodded. “Fine. How accurately can you transmit?”

  Stephenson scratched the side of his cheek. “That is a small problem. We’re going to direct it towards Alliance space and hope for the best.”

  “Not exactly a perfect option.” Keegan interjected.

  “No. But it will be coded.”

  “Coded how?” Keegan asked.

  “The message can only be unlocked by entering either Colonel Hunt’s birthday or that of Doctor Stokes.” Stephenson shifted his feet. “We are directing the message to the attention of Admiral Taark at 7th Fleet. If the message reaches him, he will understand how to unlock it.”

  Keegan nodded. “This is hinging on a lot of variables.” He looked at John Robert who was looking off towards the thawing lake. “What does he think?” He asked Stephenson.

  Stephenson looked over to the Tohil CEO, then back to Keegan. “He hasn’t presented an alternative option.”

  Keegan looked at Hulo. “And you, Star Guard, you are happy with this plan?”

  Hulo smiled. “Right now, this is the only plan.”

  “What’s your estimate on time from transmission until reception?” Sergeant Wilson asked.

  “Impossible to tell.” Hulo replied.