“Lieutenant Granger, is everything ready?” Captain Breuber asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Launch in ten minutes,” Breuber ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
The doors on Stratzyda slid open once more. It was passing over Wichita, Kansas, and soon would be in optimal position to blanket the United States with its cobalt bombs. Even with one gone and five others inert, the remaining twenty-six were more than enough to finish the job envisioned by its Soviet creators during the height of the Cold War.
Adjacent to Stratzyda, the imaging equipment on board Warfighter scoured the face of the planet, searching for any last-minute assaults from below, the reactor powered up, the laser ready to lash out at the speed of light.
“What the hell is that?” Captain Billam had his binoculars pointed toward the south.
Turcotte directed his in the same direction and spotted what appeared to be a metal dragon rapidly approaching through the air. “Have your men stand by,” Turcotte ordered. He’d seen much in the last couple of months, but a flying dragon ranked up there with the strangest.
The dragon came to a hover about twenty meters away, then slowly settled onto the sand. Out of the rear came Elek, Che Lu, and the old man Lo Fa. Turcotte was glad to see the professor and her bandit comrade.
Elek gestured for the two to stay put as he strode forward toward Turcotte. “Give me the key.”
Turcotte pulled the black case out of his pack and opened it, revealing the Spear of Destiny to Elek. The alien/human hybrid held out his hand, but Turcotte shook his head. “It goes in there. You take it all.” Turcotte nodded his head toward the long black coffin that had been recovered from Ngorongoro Crater by Mualama. Captain Billam ran over to the coffin, opening the lid just enough to slip the case holding the Spear in.
“Release my friends,” Turcotte said.
Elek gave a dismissive gesture, and Che Lu and Lo Fa came over to stand next to Turcotte.
“It is good to see you once more.” Che Lu’s wrinkled face split in a wide smile.
Turcotte smiled in turn but kept his attention on Elek. “Tell Lexina to stop Stratzyda. I want it released by the talon. Along with Warfighter.”
“Have your men load the coffin into the back of the dragon,” Elek ordered. “Then I will call Lexina.”
As Billam directed four of his team to do that, Turcotte checked his watch. Less than eight minutes. “What is this place?” he asked.
Elek’s attention was on the men carrying the coffin to the dragon. “This is where the ordon of the Great Khan was first raised and last taken down. Chi Yu knows the location, so it was easiest to meet here.”
Turcotte had no idea what Elek was talking about. The coffin was inside, and the men returned. “I want confirmation that Stratzyda has been aborted.”
“Talk to Lexina.” Elek turned and walked away.
“Damn.” Turcotte pulled out his cell phone and punched in the code he had been given by Quinn.
There was no answer on the other end. The dragon lifted and headed to the south.
Major Quinn looked up as Larry Kincaid slid a piece of paper in front of him. “Another message from the guardian pretending to be Kelly Reynolds.”
On the screen at the front of the room a live view of the deck of the Anzio was being relayed via secure Interlink. A red digital clock counted down to the launch time and had passed through three minutes.
Quinn quickly read the message:
The Airlia have meant no harm. They have only been protecting themselves. They have coexisted in peace with us for thousands of years. They have protected us from outside forces that would destroy our world. It has only been the interference of Majestic-12 and people from Area 51 who have caused the recent troubles.
I have talked with the Airlia still surviving on Mars, and I know all this to be true. They are trapped now, but even so, they hold no ill feelings toward us.
The recent events in South America were the results of a NATO secret experiment in biological warfare. The death of Johnny Simmons was caused by your own people when they tried to rescue him from your Majestic-12. There is a guardian that supersedes all others.
They can help us, but they must be left alone. In turn, the promise not to take any action that can affect us negatively.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Quinn said. “It’s the same damn message as last time.” Kincaid sat down and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering them to Quinn, who took one. Ignoring the large signs on the wall prohibiting smoking, they both fired up.
“No, it’s different,” Quinn noted. “Was it sent the same way?”
Kincaid shook his head. “No. Just over FLT-SATCOM, not to the Internet or any of the other modes from last time. So the Navy people have bottled it up. They’re worried it’s an attempt by the guardian to forestall their Tomahawk launch.”
Quinn read the message one more time. “It’s as if the guardian’s replaying the message but it added the part about that reporter Johnny Simmons and a master guardian for some reason.” He sat up straight. “It’s Reynolds.”
“What?”
Quinn tapped the piece of paper. “It’s Reynolds. She is sending us a message. She’s the only one who would mention Simmons… he was her friend. She saw him jump to his death after they rescued him from Dulce. It has to be her.”
Kincaid frowned. “What’s she trying to tell us?”
“That she’s alive and free of the guardian,” Quinn said. “And that she knows something… there is a master guardian that can affect both the Easter Island one and the one in Qian-Ling.” He looked up. The digital countdown clicked through 3:00 to 2:59. “We’ve got to get them to stop.”
The Tomahawk leapt out of its hatch, flame roaring out of the bottom. It headed almost straight up, angled slightly toward Easter Island. Only then did Captain Breuber pick up the phone that linked him by satellite to Area 51.
“It’s too late,” he told Major Quinn. “And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t stop the missile. It’s war here, Major. And we’re going to win it.”
Breuber looked out the thick glass at the front of his bridge, watching the Tomahawk going higher and higher.
“Damn it!” Quinn slapped away the mike from in front of his face. He looked up at the front screen. Stratzyda was just minutes out from launching position.
“Turcotte turned over the key to Elek, but he can’t get ahold of Lexina to confirm Stratzyda has been aborted.” Larry Kincaid had a SATPhone to his ear. “And Duncan?”
“No word.”
“Is Stratzyda shut down?” Quinn asked.
Kincaid shook his head. “Doors are still open, and the talon still controls it.”
“Power up, lock on targets, all systems fire when ready!” Captain Forster snapped out the orders, and his crew leapt to action. He turned to his helmsman. “Get us up and away from here.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
For the first time in many days, the Springfield was under way, lifting off the bottom, the single screw turning, giving it thrust.