CHAPTER 21: THE PRESENT
“Mike? Are you there? Is anyone there?”
“There’s nothing,” the radio specialist said. “If they were listening, they’d have heard you by now.” He reached forward to turn off the microphone.
“Don’t you touch that,” Reynolds rasped.
“Ma’am—” the specialist began, but Nurse Cummings reached across her patient, pinched the young man’s ear between thumb and forefinger, and gave a slight twist.
“Listen to the lady,” Cummings said.
The specialist carefully removed Cummings’s fingers from his ear, stood, and left the room. The radio stayed.
“Mike Turcotte?” Kelly Reynolds whispered. “Anyone?”
Turcotte was on the edge of where the array had been. The mothership had punched a hole in the side of the mountain over twenty times the size of that created by the work of the mech-machines. He could see pieces of debris far below, most appearing to be pieces of the mothership. He could see nothing of the array, the pylons, or the Airlia vehicles. All destroyed.
They’d won the final victory.
Turcotte found it hard to believe after all that had occurred the past several months since he had arrived at Area 51. Aspasia’s Shadow. Artad. The Swarm. All dead. Both motherships destroyed. Mankind was free.
Turcotte checked the TASC suit oxygen level. He had two hours of air left. He’d come this far, he’d give it two more hours of effort. He headed toward the location Duncan had given him for the Fynbar.
Yakov reached into a pocket and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the lid and offered it to the others. Quinn and Kincaid shook their heads, but Leahy grabbed it and took a deep swig.
“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” Yakov said as he took the flask back from her and had a drink. “This wasn’t a very good plan,” Leahy said.
Yakov chuckled. “You should have seen some of the plans we’ve implemented in the last few months fighting these aliens.”
“How much air do we have?” Quinn interjected.
Yakov looked at the small display panel. “I have no idea. I don’t know the Airlia word for oxygen so I don’t know which of these indicators is the one to read. However”—he flicked a finger against the panel—“this one looks very low, and given our luck I would guess it is the one.”
Turcotte was circling Mons Olympus, staying at the same altitude. He saw a trench in the soil ahead a couple of meters deep and cutting laterally across his path. He looked up and saw an impact point five hundred meters up, near the lip of the volcano. Looking to the right he found Duncan’s spaceship a kilometer downslope.
Turcotte turned in that direction. His walk changed into a full-out charge downhill, as he took large bounds in the lesser gravity. His last bound carried him on top of the Fynbar. He did a quick exterior inspection. It was dented and battered, but the most critical damage was on the upper, right-front deck, where plating had been ripped open by the Talon’s blast.
He went to the rear of the deck and opened a compartment as Duncan had instructed. A large cylinder with a hose and nozzle was inside. He removed it, went forward to the hole in the hull, and turned it on. A red spray spewed out of the nozzle and began filling in the hole. As it hit, it hardened. It took the entire cylinder, but after a few minutes Turcotte felt satisfied he’d sealed the breach.
He went to the hatch and entered the ship. The instrument panel was still aglow, which meant there was power. He continued to follow the succinct instructions Duncan had given him. Preparing to take her own life along with the Airlia’s, she had given him the way to save his and the others’. Whatever she had done to him, Turcotte knew they were more than even now.
A light went green — the one Duncan had told him to watch for. Turcotte unsealed the suit and took a cautious breath. The air was breathable. He sat in the pilot’s seat and took hold of the controls.
The ship lifted.
Everyone inside the escape pod jumped as there was a loud bang. Yakov stood. “It is about time.”
“What the hell is that?” Leahy demanded. “I believe it would be Mr. Turcotte.”
“But—” Leahy was confused, as were Kincaid and Quinn.
Yakov shrugged. “Who else could it be?” He went to the small porthole in the hatch and peered out. “The ship is here. The hatch is open. I say we hold our breath and make a dash for it.”
“Are you crazy?” Quinn asked. “You want to stay here?”
“How do you know it’s Turcotte?” Quinn demanded.
“If it was an enemy, they would not be, how do you say, knocking. They would just blow us up. I think Ms. Duncan had something more in mind when she told us to get in this pod, then jettisoned us.” Yakov looked at the other three. “We have no airlock on this thing. Once I open this door, we lose our air. And we all must go together.”
Leahy nodded. “Just give me a countdown.” Kincaid edged closer. “All right.”
Quinn was shaking his head, but Yakov ignored him. “Three. Two. Exhale hard. One.” Yakov threw the lever and the hatch blew out.
Inside the Fynbar, Turcotte saw the four dash across the short space between the ships. He heard the clang of the outer airlock door shutting and watched the gauge on the console as it quickly pressurized.
There was a light flashing on the high-frequency radio the Space Command team had placed on board. He’d seen it as soon as he’d taken the seat. He knew who it was. And while he wanted to know what Kelly had learned while merged with the guardian, he did not want to hear it alone. He felt a tremendous sense of foreboding.
The pressure equalized, and Turcotte hit the button to open the inner airlock, then stood and faced the door. Yakov, Kincaid, Quinn, and Leahy entered the ship.
“My friend!” Yakov threw his arms wide and wrapped Turcotte in them, lifting him off the floor and spinning him about once. “We heard and felt a large explosion.” He put Turcotte down and peered at him. “Since you are here, I assume it was not nuclear.” “Lisa Duncan crashed the mothership into the array.”
Yakov let out a deep breath. “You were right about her ultimately. That was most brave.” He took out his flask and held it up.
Turcotte accepted it and drank deeply. “And Artad?” Yakov asked.
“He boarded the mothership just before she did it. She locked the Talon down and took him with her.”
“Ahhhh.” Yakov nodded. “It is done then.”
Turcotte knew it wasn’t a question. Yakov, even more than he, had fought the aliens and their minions for decades. The Russian sat down in one of the seats. Turcotte greeted the other survivors of Area 51. So few left. He sat back in the pilot’s chair, next to Yakov. The green light flashed, beckoning.
Yakov saw it also. “A message?” “Kelly Reynolds.”
Yakov’s bushy eyebrows arched. “She can speak?” “She knows the truth. How all this started.” Turcotte waited. Yakov was the first to nod. “We need to know.”
“Why?” Turcotte asked.
“In order to decide what to do next,” Yakov said simply.
Turcotte glanced at the others. Leahy seemed a bit confused. Quinn and Kincaid both looked back and he could tell that they would let him make the decision for them.
Turcotte picked up the mike and transmitted. “Kelly. This is Mike Turcotte.”
Kelly Reynolds was just about to call for the thirtieth time when Turcotte’s voice sounded from the speaker.