“Did they explode?”
“No. The monitoring personnel evacuated, but when nothing happened, they went back in. The bombs are just sitting there.”
They entered and Ahana spoke before Foreman could. “The super-kamiokande in Japan tracked a burst of muonic activity at Chernobyl.”
Foreman told her and Nagoya about the bombs.
Dane had been considering this new development. “Do you think the Shadow could have backtracked the probe we sent through Chernobyl?”
“Possibly,” Foreman allowed.
“Chekov once wrote that a playwright shouldn’t introduce a gun in act one unless it was fired by act three,” Dane noted.
Foreman frowned at the arcane reference. “And?”
“The Shadow sent those bombs through for a reason,” Dane said. “They will be detonated.”
“We assume that also,” Foreman said. “The Russians are rigging a remote controlled robot to go in and remove the fuses.”
“I’ve been in contact with Professor Kolkov,” Nagoya said. “He has done some rough calculations and he believes that the Tower Four containment wall will hold even if all six bombs are detonated.”
Dane turned to the old Japanese scientist. “And what about the gates?”
“We have learned much,” Nagoya said. “We have a good idea now how the gates work on our planet. The gate that we see on the surface—” he nodded toward the bulkhead beyond which lay the Devil’s Sea gate- “is like a foothold established on our planet. It appears that all the gates lead to one place via portals inside of them. That place is where the two of you were,” he said, looking at Foreman, then Ahana. “For lack of a better term, we will use what you say Amelia Earhart called it- the space-between.
“Time here,” Nagoya pointed down, indicating Earth, “is linear and relatively fixed. But as you know, there are people in the space-between who are from many different time periods— Viking warriors, Romans legionnaires, people from varying times who appear to not have aged from the time they disappeared, such as you claim Ms. Amelia Earhart appeared.”
Dane bristled at the word choice but said nothing, knowing Nagoya meant no insult but was simply speaking as a scientist who had not seen the famed aviatrix with his own eyes.
“Inside the space-between,” Nagoya continued, “time appears to be a variable. Indeed, it must be, because the space-between is connected via portals to various times in our planet’s history as recent events have shown. Such as when the Roman legion came to your aid inside the space-between and gave you time to escape.”
Although he knew what Nagoya was saying was true, Dane found it confusing. As if sensing this, Ahana spoke. She was a young Japanese woman, a brilliant scientist who was Nagoya’s primary assistant. She had accompanied Dane through the Devil’s Sea gate and met Amelia Earhart — along with thirteenth century samurai warriors who had accompanied the aviatrix.
“I think the best way to envision this,” Ahana said, “is to view time like you view locations. You can travel five miles and you are in a different place. Via the portals, you can travel to a different time.”
“Can we go forward in time?” Dane asked.
Nagoya frowned. “I have not thought about that.”
“The crew of the Scorpion went forward from their time to our time,” Dane noted. He was trying to think this through the current situation. “Maybe we could go forward and see what we should do, then come back and do it?”
“That makes no sense,” Foreman said.
“None of this makes sense,” Dane said. “Or maybe we could go back in time and do something different?” He felt a spark of excitement. “Perhaps we could save Ariana, and others?”
Nagoya shook his head. “I think we are stuck with our present. If we go back and change something in our past, it would already be changed and we would not have our present. There are the traditional paradoxes associated with time travel. I do not think the space-between is time travel, but rather a timeless place.”
Dane found it all quite confusing and he had a feeling that Nagoya was overwhelmed also by the implications, but not willing to admit his lack of knowledge.
“Can we get to the Shadow’s world and stop the power drain from our planet?” Foreman asked, bringing the conversation back to the beginning.
“At least one of the portals inside the space-between must lead to the Shadow’s world,” Nagoya said. “That is the portal we must find if we are to be successful in taking the war to the other side. The power drain must also go through that portal.”
“Why do you say that?” Dane asked.
“I think the major purpose of what is going on is to get power, like the Shadow did from Chernobyl all those year,” Ahana said. “The destruction of our world is just a by-product of that.”
“And if we find it?” Dane asked. “What then?” When there was no immediate answer, he shifted in his seat so that he was facing Foreman. “I know you have a plan. Why not let me in on it beforehand this time?”
Foreman evaded a direct answer as was his wont. “We’re working on several things.”
“I assume you want me to go back in the Devil’s Sea gate with Rachel to search for this portal,” Dane didn’t make it a question. “I’m not going unless you tell me what options you’ve worked up and what their implementation priority is.”
Foreman steepled his fingers just below his chin. “I briefed the President via secure SATCOM link. The plan is simple. We find the Shadow portal. We send through a muonic transmitter. If we can lock in the portal to the other side — the Shadow’s world- then our first option for attack is the first one readily available. We send through cruise missiles armed with nuclear weapons. Twenty four missiles and warheads are being modified as we speak to survive the trip through the gate.”
Dane saw a big problem with that plan. “So you’re hoping the missiles will function once they go to the other side even though nothing else electromagnetic has worked inside a gate?”
“We are hoping that electromagnetic devices can be shut down while traversing the gate and portals and then function on the other side. The Shadow has to have electromagnetic capability on their world.”
“That could be a fatal assumption,” Dane said. “And how will you get the cruise missiles through the portal when their rockets won’t work in the gates?”
Foreman’s answer was succinct. “By hand.”
It was the answer Dane had known was coming.
The voice echoed in the small cabin, bouncing off the steel walls. “The mission of the United States Naval Academy is to develop midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to provide graduates who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government."
Captain Tom Stokes hit the mute button on the remote control and the TV went silent. The video was a recruiting pitch from the Naval Academy. On the screen, a panoramic view of the Naval Academy at Annapolis was displayed. Seeing the granite buildings, Stokes felt the familiar ache in the pit of his stomach. Part ingrained fear, part pride, part amazement even after all these years.
Stokes had been assigned as an instructor to the Academy up until six months ago when he’d received his new orders bringing him to this small room, the Captain’s quarters on board the Navy’s most modern submarine, the USS Connecticut. It wasn’t because of that recent assignment, though, that had caused him to pull the video out of his desk, but rather the report that lay open on his desk — the findings of a board that had been commissioned to examined the loss of the USS Seawolf, the Connecticut’s sister ship, and the first Seawolf class submarine commissioned.