He got out of the chair and left the command sphere to climb down and let Sin Fen and Ariana inside.
The National Security Agency was established in 1952 by President Truman as part of the Department of Defense. It’s mission was to focus on communications and cryptological intelligence, a field known as SIGINT, or signal’s intelligence.
While the majority of what the NSA did was highly classified, it was widely accepted that the organization was the largest employer of mathematicians in the world.
One of those mathematicians who had been with the organization for over two decades was Patricia Conners. She’d worked various jobs in the organization from code-making to code-breaking. She’d moved over to remote imagery five years ago and was considered one of the top people in the Agency not only in interpreting data down-loaded from the various spy systems the United States military employed, but in the actual operation of those systems.
Conners was in her mid-50s, a short, gray-haired lady, whose benign appearance belied a razor-sharp mind. She had been become involved in the gates when running imagery from spy satellites at Foreman’s request.
Her office was two floors beneath the main NSA building at Fort Meade. She did all her work through the large computer that took up most of the desk top. On the left side of the computer she had a large framed picture of her grandchildren gathered together at the last family reunion, all six of them, two via her daughter and four from two sons. On the right side of the computer was a pewter model of the Starship Enterprise, the one from the original TV series. Stuck on the side of her monitor were various bumper stickers from the science fiction conventions she religiously traveled to every year, ranging from one indicating the bearer was a graduate of Star Fleet Academy to another warning that the driver braked for alien landings.
In the past week, it seemed like science fiction had become science fact as the assault came through the gates and was only narrowly stopped at the last minute. But now there were triangular shaped gates at locations around the world that resisted every type of imaging that had been tried.
Conners knew about the Super-Kamiokande and right now that seemed to be the primary way they could detect activity around the gates. She had a direct link to the Can and also to Foreman in the War Room. Her job was to maintain a watch with the regular imaging devices on the off chance something changed and they could see in, or, more likely, if something was detected coming out of the gates.
As part of that, she was linked to the Navy’s SOSUS array, keeping an eye on underwater activity around those gates located in the water. SOSUS had picked up the disturbance coming out of the Milwaukee Depth, but the system wasn’t fast enough to allow them to alert the Glomar- besides, Conners knew the Glomar’s own radar and sonar couldn’t have missed picking up something that big.
Conners was running through the programs, making sure they were all running properly when something in the SOSUS data caused her to pause.
She stared at the screen for almost ten seconds before realizing what she was seeing. “Goddamn,” she muttered as she picked up the phone that linked her to Foreman.
Thirty miles to the northwest of Dane’s position, the Seawolf was finally in its designated patrol area on the edge of the Bermuda Triangle gate.
Captain McCallum had the submarine surface so he could maintain a satellite link with the War Room. He climbed the ladder to the top of the sail along with the watch crew. Training his binoculars to the east, he could see the solid black wall that marked the edge of the gate.
Two decks down and to the rear of where McCallum was, Captain Bateman took several CD-Rom discs out of a large bank and stuffed them in his shirt pocket.
He stood up and left the wardroom and headed forward, passing through the command and control room. He noted that the hatch to the sail was open but continued on to the helm.
Three men were seated facing a bank of instruments and displays. A chief petty officer was in a higher chair directly behind them. Bateman watched them for a few seconds, then continued forward in the ship until he came to the combat systems electronic space. Two men were overwatching banks of computer that ran every system in the ship.
Bateman shut the pressure hatch behind himself, the only way out of the room and began turning the handle.
One of the ratings in the room cleared his throat. “Sir, that door is to remain open unless-”
Bateman pulled the pistol out of his belt, turned and fired, cutting off the rest of the sentence and blowing the man’s brains all over the gray painted side of a computer hard drive. The other sailor stared in disbelief, which changed to shock as Bateman fired again, hitting him in the stomach. The man dropped to his knees. Bateman fired again, a shot directly to the heart, killing him.
Bateman clamped down the lock on the handle, insuring that he would be left alone.
Then he turned to the computers, pulling the CD-Roms out of his pocket. He inserted the first one in a laptop and brought up the information he wanted. He used a screwdriver to pull the cover off one of the pieces of hardware and went to work.
Chapter 12
They passed swiftly between more barrows, the unnatural formations forming small valleys between them. Ragnarok was glad to be putting distance between themselves and the wicker man, but his sense of foreboding didn’t abate. This was a strange land and a strange folk. Worshipping oak trees and burning people as a gift to the Gods, chanting in the darkness, all were things foreign to Ragnarok and he longed for the feel of a swaying deck under his feet.
The two women moved like wraiths, their long legs swinging back and forth under their cloaks through the knee high grass. Ragnarok followed, his ax resting on his shoulder, towering over both of them. He had done more walking in the last three days and nights than ever in his life.
“We must arrive before dawn,” Penarddun said, “or else hide. The king’s men will be searching.”
“Why?” Ragnarok asked.
“Because he has sworn allegiance to the Christians,” Penarddun said. “He has turned his back on the old ways. Every so often, when the bishop of the Christians squeals, he sends soldiers to hunt us down. Fortunately there is not much profit in it or else he would do it all the time.”
“There are older ways than your beliefs,” Tam Nok said.
“That is most likely so,” Penarddun agreed. “But I only know what I know. Much has been lost over the years. Where we are going is part of that older way. If what you seek is not there, then I know not where it is.”
Tam Nok suddenly halted, holding up her hand to indicate for the others to stop also. Her head turned, almost like an animal sniffing the night. Ragnarok looked to and fro, but all he saw were the barrows dotting the plains that surrounded them.
“They are coming,” Tam Nok said.
“Who?” Ragnarok asked.
“The Valkyries. They are not close but they are coming.”
“I thought they could not cross the water or move out of the fog.” Ragnarok noted.
“They have many powers,” Tam Nok said. “We have time but not too much.” She began walking even faster and Ragnarok followed, his senses on alert.
They passed between two long barrows and there were no more burial mounds. A long plain stretched to the horizon and in the center of it, about half a mile away, some sort of strange building unlike anything Ragnarok had ever seen.