Hawkins winced. That was a grim joke between him and his team members. They'd always talked about what they would do if caught in a hopeless situation. Surrender was out of the question. Any person-no matter how well trained-could be made to talk, and the men and women of Orion knew too much to have that happen. Hawkins had been the one to say that that was the time to put on the green beret most of them had worn when they were in Special Forces and stack magazines for ready access and fight it out to the death. The fact that Richman was wearing a sterile uniform and didn't have a beret didn't matter.
"Lee's dead. That last burst got him. I'm down to two mags. They're in no rush. They know they've got me cornered. I think they're worried about shooting up their equipment down here, otherwise I'd be Swiss cheese. Maybe they're worried about hitting the black wall." There was a short pause. "Angel, I don't know who you are, but tell my wife I love her and always will."
Hawkins wanted to grab the mike from Lamb and assure Richman he would, but there was no way they could talk to him-once Richman had gone hot with his mike he could only transmit, not receive.
"Fuck dying in this hole!" Richman's voice was strong. "I'm moving." They could hear him as he ran, the thunder of the Russians firing, and Hawkins recognized the flat crack of near misses. "I'm going to-"
The transmission cut off in mid-sentence. The signal was gone. Lamb slowly placed the mike down on the tabletop.
"You've got a shimmering black wall." Hawkins spoke with barely restrained anger. "Was that worth three good men?"
SECOND CONTACT
"Where’s Debra?"
Fran's question caught everyone off-guard. Hawkins swung his gaze up and met hers. She'd rarely seen such profound sadness in a person's eyes. There was more to Hawkins than the cold-blooded military man he liked to present the world with, she realized. She regretted her mercenary comment earlier in the cafeteria.
"She must have left when things got hairy on the radio," Batson replied. "She was here when it all started."
"Help me find her," she said, taking Hawkins by the arm and shuffling him toward the tent flap.
They stepped out, the bright sun causing them to blink for a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust.
"Did you see Miss Levy?" Hawkins asked one of the marine guards. "Yes, sir. She headed for the communications center a few minutes ago."
Fran led the way along the top of the Rock to the shelter that bristled with antennas. Entering, she spotted Debra seated at a console, typing.
"Debra, what are you doing?" Fran asked.
Levy glanced over her shoulder. "I'm letting them know that what just happened at Tunguska is a mistake."
"Letting who know?" Hawkins asked, his mind still echoing with the screams of dying men.
Levy tapped the enter key. "Whoever is in, or behind whatever is in, the Rock."
"What did you do?" Hawkins asked, startled.
Levy pointed at the screen. "I just transmitted."
Hawkins and Fran looked over her shoulder. The screen was an unintelligible mass of O's and l's. "What's the content of your message?" Hawkins asked.
Levy hit another key and the screen cleared. "Just what I said-that we mean no harm and that we wish only peace."
Hawkins glanced at Fran and grimaced. Across the tent, Spurlock was sitting at another console, headphones on, oblivious to what had just happened.
"Do you know if the Rock received your message?" Fran asked.
Levy smiled. "We should find out shortly."
"What do we have in common that whatever is in the Rock would want us four here?" Fran asked the question that had been bugging her ever since she'd been told of the message at the end of the initial transmission.
Levy was still with them, although Hawkins had had to argue fiercely with Lamb to keep him from locking her up. She still refused to divulge the exact contents of the message she had transmitted. A chagrined Major Spurlock could confirm that a message had been sent-the automatic logs at least had that recorded, but Levy had erased the actual contents. She'd sent it out in the same manner as the second transmission had been received-on a sliding wavelength moving up from fourteen twenty megahertz. Whether the Rock had received it, no one knew.
The members of the team were sitting in the operations shelter with Lamb, trying to regroup from the double shock of the military action in Siberia and Levy's attempt at communication.
Lamb shook his head in reply to Fran's question. "I’ve asked that same question and my people have cross-referenced your backgrounds, looking for a common thread. We've come up with nothing for all four." He looked at Hawkins and their gazes locked-Lamb was convinced Levy had crossed some mental line and "no longer had both oars in the water," as Lamb had scientifically put it.
As if she had intercepted that look, Levy's low voice cut across the room. "You think I'm nuts, don't you?" When no one answered, she continued. "I assume you know about my therapy? And my institutionalization?" This time she didn't wait for an answer. Her voice took on a slightly mocking tone. "The doctors believe what happened to me happened because my rapid academic advancement outstripped the emotional skills I needed to cope with it." She laughed. "I assure you, gentlemen, and lady," she said, nodding her head at Fran, "I am probably the sanest person in this room right now."
"Then you know about my breakdown too," Fran quietly commented, looking at Lamb. That brought a look of surprise to Hawkins's face.
"Yes, we know about it, but you've been cleared by the doctors," Lamb replied.
Batson was vibrating in place. "What about you?" He was looking at Hawkins. "Did you have a breakdown too?"
"No. I just kill people," Hawkins replied, his eyes glinting dangerously.
Batson was caught up in the confusion of the situation. "Well, I haven't had a breakdown, nor have I had to get re-grooved in a nuthouse. Nor have I killed anyone. So why am I here?"
The sharp crump of an explosion derailed any answer. "What's that?" Fran asked.
"We're blasting to get to the chamber," Lamb explained.
"I thought you weren't going to do that," Batson said.
Lamb's reply was brief. "Things have changed."
"Afraid they're going to beat us to the punch?" Hawkins asked.
"They've already beaten us to the punch, as you put it," Lamb replied. "Either the Russians are behind this thing or they're as confused as we are. Either way, they've already uncovered their site. We can't waste any more time."
"What are you going to do when you get to the chamber?" Fran asked.
"It depends on what's there." Lamb shrugged. "It might be the same as what's in Tunguska, but we have to remember that Tunguska never transmitted. We're sitting on the transmitter. Maybe the one over there is just a receiver."
A man poked his head in the tent and gestured for Lamb, who stood. "If you come up with anything that you all have in common that my people might have missed, let me know. I've got other pressing matters that I need to attend to." He walked out, taking his folders with him.
Fran looked at Hawkins and then Batson. The latter sank into a chair with a sigh. "Listen, Fran, I think I know why I'm here. And probably why you're here. I can even understand why you're here." He jerked a thumb at Hawkins. "But I don't understand why Levy is here."
"Why do you think you're here?" Hawkins asked.
"I'm one of the top experts in the world in geology. This thing-whatever it is-is in the middle of the largest homogeneous rock in the world." Batson waved a hand, to forestall Hawkins's comment. "On top of that, though, is that I'm a member of the Hermes Project. As is Fran."