It seemed to Turcotte that the destruction of the Mission’s base of operations had happened long ago, though it was actually relatively recent. They had narrowly stopped the Mission’s attempt to wipe out mankind with a deadly virus. “Yes.”
“His last words before he killed himself were about Tunguska. In 1908. I just saw the explosion that occurred there. It was caused by the craft I described getting hit by some sort of energy weapon.”
“An Airlia weapon?”
“No. It appears to be a human weapon.”
Turcotte felt a stir of excitement. “What kind of weapon? Who made it?”
“I can see if the guardian has stored that information,” Yakov said, “but more importantly at the moment, there was an escape pod from that alien craft. Survivors.”
“What does that have to do with Lisa Duncan?”
“The Master Guardian confirms that neither Artad nor Aspasia’s Shadow have her — at least their guardians had no information on that and they were interfacing with their computers up until I shut them down. Its best estimate based on the available data is that she has been taken by the survivors in that pod.”
“Who?”
“The Swarm.”
Turcotte felt his skin tighten as he recalled the gray orb inside the tank that he and Yakov had seen at Section IV. That had been even more repellent than the contact with the guardian at Dulce. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know. Let me see what else it has.”
Yakov leaned against the Master Guardian, searching for more information. Turcotte radioed Quinn, telling him to get every bit of information he could on Tunguska and what had happened there in 1908. And what had managed to destroy the Swarm craft.
Yakov kept his hands on the Master but turned his head and called out to Turcotte. “The array they’re building on Mars is indeed for communications. It’s a little confusing, but the impression I’ve picked up is that with this array they can reach the Airlia Empire relatively quickly.”
“That’s all we need,” Turcotte muttered. Yakov frowned. “Something’s happening.” “You could be a little more specific.”
“Another bouncer just entered the cavern,” Yakov said. “A hatch is opening near the front in another hangar.”
“Can you override?”
Yakov shook his head. “The Kortad damaged the mothership’s control room before they left, cutting off the Master Guardian from complete mothership control so they could take the Talon. The only way to control the ship is from the control room.”
“Who’s in the bouncer?” Turcotte asked as he checked his MP-5 submachine gun, making sure a round was in the chamber and he had a full magazine.
“The only person I know who has one is Aspasia’s Shadow,” Yakov said. “Unless some have been removed from Area 51.”
Turcotte realized that his asking a question with such an obvious answer indicated that he wasn’t functioning at a very high level. “Can you get us to the hangar that just opened?”
Yakov removed his hands from the Master. “Yes.” He ran for the exit to the room and turned right in the central corridor, Turcotte on his heels.
“Remember, my friend, if it is Aspasia’s Shadow, he has partaken of the Grail,” Yakov said over his shoulder, as they raced down the passageway.
“We’ll see how immortal he is after I blow his head off,” Turcotte muttered, one hand tight on the MP-5, the other holding Excalibur. He felt a line of sweat soaking the middle of his back. His vision went blank for a second and he staggered, but his sight returned as suddenly as it had gone and he continued behind the Russian.
After six hundred meters, Yakov skidded to a halt in front of a door. He hit a panel on the side and a door slid open.
“Here.” Turcotte tossed Excalibur to the Russian, who caught it by the handle and looked at it with less than enthusiasm. “I’ll take point,” Turcotte said.
“How nice of you. And I am supposed to back you up with this?” Yakov held the sword in front of him.
“Better than nothing,” Turcotte said, remembering Mount Sinai, which was the last time he’d entered a place with Yakov holding a gun. That had ended with Yakov “killing” Lisa Duncan while trying to stop Aspasia’s Shadow from stealing the Grail. Neither man had known at the time that she had partaken of the Grail and was immortal. Of course, Turcotte realized, they hadn’t really known at the time that Duncan wasn’t who she had appeared to be either.
Turcotte edged inside the doorway, taking in his surroundings. The cargo bay was about a hundred meters wide by fifty deep. And empty except for a bouncer that was settling down on the floor about twenty meters directly in front of him. Turcotte put the stock of the MP-5 tight into his shoulder and aimed at the top hatch. He could sense Yakov’s hulking presence right behind him.
The hatch was flung open and a figure climbed out. Turcotte recognized Aspasia’s Shadow from Mount Sinai, except he had an intact hand where Turcotte had shot one off. And in that hand was a cloth-covered object.
“Hold it right there,” Turcotte yelled.
Aspasia’s Shadow laughed without humor, as if he had just been spoken to by a cockroach he planned to crush under his boot. “You humans certainly are persistent. Very irritating lo say the least.” He slid down the side of the bouncer to the hangar floor and he lifted his arms wide, the object in one hand, stretching his body. “I have fought among you stinking people for millennia. It grows tiring after so long.”
“And you’ve finally lost,” Turcotte said.
“No. Not lost. Just a setback. And Artad is running, isn’t he? So the old civil war is finally over. Congratulations.” He glanced at Yakov, noting the sword in his hand, and recoiled a half step back before stopping himself. “I will trade you.” He held up the shroud-covered object. “The Grail for Excalibur.” He grimaced as if remembering something unpleasant. “I made an offer like that once before. Many years ago. To Artad’s Shadow masquerading as Arthur.”
“And he obviously didn’t accept the offer,” Turcotte said.
“Ah, that is true,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “And Artad’s Shadow — Arthur — like me, was smarter and more aware than the original. We were so close to—” He paused, as if suddenly aware to whom he was talking. “Ah, but it ended in blood and death as always. Merlin. The supposed Watcher. He was very troublesome. Another human interfering in things beyond his scope and awareness. As you are now.
“But back then I didn’t have these,” he added as he used his free hand to pull out two stones. “The thummin and urim. You need them for the Grail to work.” He took a step closer. “Think about it, gentlemen. I am offering you immortality.”
“If we give you the sword,” Turcotte said, “you will control the Master Guardian and the other guardians. So you’re offering us immortality in order to live in a world you dominate? You want us to give up so easily everything we’ve just won?”
“I am tired of you humans,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “And this planet.” He abruptly changed the subject. “As I entered the cavern I saw that one of the Talons is missing. I would assume that Artad’s Kortad took one and are rendezvousing with him. Do you know where he will go with it?”
“Mars. Mons Olympus,” Turcotte said.
Aspasia’s Shadow was surprised. “Very good. Do you know why he is going there?” “The Airlia at Cydonia whom you’ve abandoned are building a transmitter.” “Impressive,” Aspasia’s Shadow acknowledged. “For a human, that is.”