“See ya, Microchip Brain,” said Mack, looking across at Jeff. “They got to him already.” He shook his head. “They ought to bag ANTARES.”
“For once I may have to agree with you,” said Zen before turning back to his food.
Chapter 24
The chair poked into his back. His legs were lead. A thick snake had wrapped itself around his head.
“Relax now. Kevin,” said Geraldo. “Do your breathing. You’ll find Theta when the time is right.”
What did it take to breathe? What muscles did he use?
Poor, poor Christina, lying so helpless in the hospital bed, smiling at him. She’d been born with anaplastic thyroid cancer, a rare, nearly inexplicable, and always fatal cancer. It could only have come from the radiation he’d been exposed to at Glass Mountain and Los Alamos. Poison.
No. He’d gone over all that, buried it a year after burying his daughter, after his wife left. Colonel Glavin helped him get a transfer. That was five long years ago.
He was the helpless one. Impotent.
That wasn’t him, just a part of him. Once he’d been tough, once he’d been brave. The bullets splattering around him. He ran with the grenade in his hand.
Shit, the tape is gone. I pulled it, it’s live.
Screw these bastards. Screw them all!
Knives, red and sharp, poking from every direction.
“Try to relax, Kevin,” said Geraldo again.
“The music,” he said. “Could you, could you change it?”
“The music’s bothering you?”
He felt his heart pounding in his chest. “Yes. It’s killing me.”
“Carrie, the music.”
“I’ll get it, Doc,” said Roger. There was some static in the background, then a loud click. “Oh, shit,” said the techie.
A loud hush filled Kevin’s ears, a kind of wind sound that must have come from some malfunction in the equipment, a crossed wire or something. There was a light popping noise in the background, a set of footsteps, and then a sound like thunder, two peals, three. The noise gave way to a storm, rain coursing down from enormous clouds, bursting overhead, then trickling slowly across and through a thick canopy of leaves. Light burst across his eyes, then darkness again, shapes receding.
He stood in a thick forest. Rain fell all around him. His pants were wet.
Alone in the middle of a vast tropical rain forest, alone and at peace.
“You’re in,” whispered Geraldo from far way. “You’re in.”
The forest felt beautiful and empty. Could he stay here? A jaguar circled nearby. A snake slithered through the trees. It was more jungle than forest.
Rain. Storm.
“Kevin?”
Madrone felt something snap below his head, a sharp pain as if he’d overstretched a ligament. Someone pulled off the glasses.
Geraldo was standing in front of him, smiling. Her assistants were peering over her shoulders, expressions of awe on their faces.
“You were in Theta-alpha for twenty-eight minutes,” said Geraldo. “And you responded to the computer.”
“I was in Theta?”
What had the computer said to him? What had he seen? What had he felt?
He didn’t remember anything except a vague, restful pleasure.
And danger at the edges, beyond the trees.
“Are you sure I was in Theta-alpha?” he asked again.
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes. You were in Theta and you responded to the computer. Just a pulse, but it was definitely there,” said Geraldo. “I can’t believe it. We’ve never, ever had results like this. Never. Not this early, not this long or fast.”
“Let’s do it again,” Kevin said.
“So soon?” said Geraldo.
“Let’s do it again,” he insisted.
“Your pants,” said Roger, pointing. He’d lost control of his bladder as he entered Theta.
It was immaterial. He had to get back there.
“Again,” Kevin said sharply.
Chapter 25
Colonel Bastian pushed his legs under his desk, stretching out some of the knots that had twisted in his muscles. But there was no way to release the pressure of the one developing in his head.
“The way this works, Colonel,” General Magnus continued over the secure phone, “reports come to my office.”
“I understand the normal procedure, General,” said Bastian, struggling to keep his voice level. “I was ordered—”
“You don’t accept orders from anyone but me.”
“The Assistant Secretary of Defense asked specifically for an eyes-only assessment of ANTARES. I delivered it. And I copied you ahead of time, despite her instructions not to.”
“Chain of command. Chain of command.”
Dog pushed the phone away, resisting the temptation to answer. He detested the political bullshit. Worse, he’d been maneuvered into a no-win situation. Magnus was his boss, but Washington wanted a direct say over what happened at Dreamland. Magnus hadn’t minded that so much with the past Administration — he’d been tight with the NSC as well as the Joint Chiefs. But things were different now.
Nor did it help that Dog had told Washington what it didn’t want to hear — go slow, if at all, on ANTARES.
“You still there, Bastian?”
“Yes, General, I am.” Dog pulled the receiver back to his ear.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Magnus said. “You’re covering your ass fifty ways to Sunday on this.”
“Actually, sir, I’m playing it straight. We’re ramping up ANTARES, per your direct order. But at the same time, I don’t think it should have priority.”
Magnus snorted. “You sound like Brad Elliott more and more.” He was referring to Dreamland’s last commander.
“I’d take that as a great compliment, General.”
“Just remember where the hell he is,” snapped Magnus, breaking the connection abruptly.
As he hung up the phone, Dog realized the lieutenant general had never actually disagreed with the report on ANTARES. But it wasn’t Magnus’s opinion — or Bastian’s — that counted. And the truth was, the program was galloping along.
The intercom buzzed.
“Next appointment, Senior Scientist Andrew Ichison,” said Gibbs. “Mack Smith is also waiting, sir.”
“Again?”
“Wants to check on the progress of his assignment, sir.” Dog could tell from Gibbs’s tone that Smith was standing about three inches from him.
“Tell him there’s nothing to report.”
“I did that, sir.”
“Slot him in.”
“Your call, sir,” said Ax, hanging up the phone.
Bastian pushed his chair back, waiting for Ichison to appear. The scientist had been part of the high-altitude spy glider project, which the Administration had cut. Dog had to tell him, along with twenty other civilians, there was no place for him at Dreamland, and probably anywhere else in the government.
ANTARES was hot. The advanced particle laser, the high-altitude spy glider, the HARM follow-ons, and the MiG Aggressor projects were not. Many of the senior military people who’d been working on them would be shunted into career dead ends. A good portion of the civilians would be left with nothing but a handshake and a reduced government pension for their years here.
Most accepted the news with grace. They thanked him for trying to hunt down jobs, and then giving them a personal heads-up on the prospects. And then there were people like Mack Smith — who barged into the office instead of Ichison.