“There is more in Qian-Ling than a tomb.” She proceeded to tell Lo Fa what she had discovered on her last trip inside — the hologram of the alien that warned in the strange tongue in the central corridor that led to the lowest chamber; the beam that had cut one of her students in half that guarded the way beyond the hologram; the large chamber full of containers that she suspected were Airlia machines and equipment; and through it the chamber holding a small guardian computer.
“But it is the lowest chamber, the one we were not able to get into, that is the key.” She held up the notebook once more. “Professor Nabinger could read the high runes. He made contact with the guardian computer inside Qian-Ling. In here he wrote some of what he knew before he died.”
Lo Fa waited, his dark eyes meeting hers.
“In the lowest chamber”—Che Lu’s voice quavered—“in the chamber, according to Nabinger’s writings, I believe there are aliens — more Airlia. Along with their leader Artad. Waiting to awaken.”
Lo Fa spit. “So?”
Che Lu was indignant. “So? So! What—”
Lo Fa hushed her. “Shh. Listen to me, old woman. Why would you want to go down there? Why would you want to waken these sleeping beings?” He pointed up. “I have not been ignorant. Others of these woke on Mars. They came here to destroy the planet. Their dead ships circle our world.”
Che Lu smiled. “Because these ones”—she pointed at the fading bulk of Qian-Ling—”these ones are the ones who saved us long ago. And maybe they can save us again.
“And there is more down there than just the aliens. According to what Nabinger was able to decipher, there is the power of the sun. Power, Lo Fa. Would you not agree our people need power now? Maybe they can give us the power we need to defeat the government and bring China back the glory it once was! Because if Artad and other Airlia are in Qian-Ling, does it not make sense that the Airlia were instrumental in making China the Middle Kingdom so many years ago?”
The twenty-foot-high pyramid that housed the guardian computer under Rano Kau was now the core of a bizarre structure of which Kelly Reynolds’s body was just one part. Metal arms reached out of the side of the pyramid, made out of parts cannibalized from the material UNAOC had left behind.
Microrobots scurried about the cavern. A line of them went up to the surface through the tunnel UNAOC had drilled. They carried small pieces of stone and returned on the opposite side, each one carrying something taken from the surface, like an army of ants returning from a feast. Most of them brought their scraps to a line of differently shaped microrobots that were aligned along the wall. Taking the raw material brought to them, these made more of their own kind, shaping the various material into bodies, computers, and energy packs.
There were several types of microrobots. The carriers, about three inches long, had six metal legs, and two arms for grasping and holding that could reach forward, then rotate back and hold whatever they picked up on their backs. The makers, six inches long, had four legs and four arms. The arms were different on each, depending on what function they served in the production line.
Another type of microrobots disappeared into a hole in the floor of the cavern — the diggers, with eight legs spaced evenly around a central core body that was two inches wide and eight long. At the very front each one had a set of small drills on very short arms. Those diggers coming out of the hole each carried a small piece of rock. They dumped it in front of the carriers, who picked up a piece and headed for the surface.
The hole was already four hundred feet deep — the goal, a plasma vent two miles down. The guardian needed more power, because this was only the beginning and the UNAOC generators had gone off-line, running out of fuel. The fusion plant that had been left by Aspasia to power the guardian was low on power and needed to be supplemented.
Some of the UNAOC computers were now hardwired into the guardian. Across the monitors information flashed, faster than a human eye could follow as the alien computer sorted through what it had learned from its foray into the human world via the Interlink/Internet. Already it was putting some of that information to use, but there was so much more.
And it maintained its link to Mars, to its sister computer deep under the surface and the alien hands that controlled that computer.
A metal probe came out of the golden pyramid. It hovered overhead, then approached Kelly. It halted an inch from the center of her back. A thin needle came out of the end of the probe. It punched through skin, into her spine. Wrapped in the golden glow, with wires and tubes spun around her body, Kelly Reynolds twitched, like a person experiencing a bad nightmare. The needle came back out, retracted into the probe, and was then pulled back inside the guardian.
Kelly shivered for several moments, then the body relaxed and became one with the guardian once more.
Turcotte knew Duncan was on the satellite radio, arranging for some assistance through her own private network. He had something else on his mind.
He found Yakov sprawled in a chair in the cabin that had been provided the Russian. A bottle of clear liquid rested on a table nearby.
“My friend!” Yakov said as Turcotte came into the cabin. “A toast to fallen comrades.”
Turcotte took the glass. He raised it to his lips and took a drink. The fiery liquid burned as it went down. “Where did you get this?” Turcotte asked when he could speak.
“Ah, I am a man of many resources,” Yakov said. “Your navy says it has no alcohol on its ships, but they are men too.”
Turcotte sat down across the Russian. “You say this group, The Mission — its Guides — have been around for a long time.”
“A very long time.” Yakov nodded.
“Then they’ve been active and not just watching throughout the course of human history.”
Yakov nodded once more. “It appears so.”
“You also said the Nazis were involved with The Mission.”
“Yes.”
“There’s someone who might know something about The Mission. Someone who had been to Dulce and knew Hemstadt.”
Yakov poured another drink. He tilted the bottle toward Turcotte, who shook his head. “Ah yes. Your Dr. Von Seeckt is still alive, is he not?”
“Is there anything you don’t know?” Turcotte asked.
“There is a terrifyingly large amount I do not know,” Yakov said. “What I don’t know wakes me in the middle of the night sweating with fear.”
“I’ve got Major Quinn setting up a video-conference link to Von Seeckt’s hospital room.”
Yakov lumbered to his feet. “Let us talk to your Nazi doctor, then.” They went to the conference room where Quinn was waiting.
“I’ve had one of my people from Area 51 go to the base hospital at Nellis Air Force Base,” Quinn said. “We’re all set. This is being relayed through Area 51 to us over a secure network.”
Turcotte and Yakov sat down in front of the laptop computer. A small camera was clipped on top of the screen pointing at them. The screen snapped alive with an image. An old man lying in a bed, his skin wrinkled and worn, the eyes half closed, peering straight ahead at the camera that must be near the foot of the bed. A microphone was clipped to the old man’s sheet, just below his chin. Turcotte could see the tubes running into the man’s arms, and he marveled that he was still alive.
“We’re all set,” Quinn said. “I talked to his doctor. He’s got quite a bit of medication in his system, so he might not be too coherent.”
“Dr. Von Seeckt,” Turcotte said. “This is Captain Turcotte.”