David Golemon - Ancients

He studied the intelligence reports and matched them with the large sand table. The Americans had left close to two thousand troops behind to guard combat engineers who were undoubtedly laying traps and tank obstacles to slow him down. As commander in the field, he had the option and the right to attack these troops if he thought them a danger for any future attack.

"Colonel," he said as he looked at the terrain just across the border.

"Sir," the thin officer said, standing at attention.

"I want a three-tank-brigade thrust in sectors three, eight, and thirteen. Catch the Americans unaware before they can finish with their traps. I want the men and equipment they leave behind destroyed. Then order the brigades to hold position south of the border."

The colonel could not hide the shock on his face. He stepped up to the sand table and looked at the positions the general had ordered taken.

"Are we acting on orders from Pyongyang?"

"My orders are defensive in nature, Colonel. I do not need Pyongyang's permission. From this moment on, we will observe radio blackout. We'll receive only."

"But, General--"

"Carry out your orders, Colonel, or I will find an officer who will!"

The colonel saluted and left the bunker. If he hadn't known better, he would have believed that the general was starting it, rather than trying to prevent it.

The war was now on, whether Kim Jong Il or China wanted it or not.

The computer center was abuzz as the crystal-clear imagery of Crete started coming in from two KH-11 Blackbirds in geosynchronous orbit over the Mediterranean. Europa was a great help in her microsecond washing of the pictures, which cleaned them up to maximum enhancement. The pictures were being relayed to Jack, Carl, Ryan, and Mendenhall in Ethiopia. The images of the bright blue waters looked inviting until they saw the tracks in the sand and large tents and metal buildings at the island's southern end. Camouflage netting hid equipment that stretched for fifteen kilometers around the centermost portion of Crete, but it was the tracks in the sand that had Jack's attention.

"What do you think, Jack?" Everett asked.

"Not good, swabby, not good at all," he answered, and then he hit the intercom for the direct link to the Pentagon. "General Caulfield, do you see the tracks leading to the camo netting, satellite designation one through sixteen?" Europa had designated the sixteen centerline camouflage nets as 1 through 16 and the figures popped up on the monitors in red.

Collins and the general had seen enough of the tracks in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait to recognize them immediately.

"I would say we have good old-fashion SAMs underneath the netting."

"I agree," said Caulfield.

"General, the plan for taking the beach could become very costly."

Caulfield had worked out his end of the plan with the navy and marines and knew that it was hasty but as good as they could get with the current Mediterranean assets.

Jack had informed Niles that he and his element would concentrate on the Egyptian tunnel they had discovered on the bronze-plate hologram; they were hoping that it led to the Coalition. The theory was that the tunnel had once been used for secret travel and survival of their hierarchy. The linguists, along with Carmichael and Martha, had been working nonstop to decipher the details of the map.

"It will be very costly, Colonel, but while we're keeping their heads down at the front door, your team just may slip in through the back door."

"Agent Dahlia has indicated that the Coalition has at least a brigade-size force for beach defense and a minimum of thirty advanced warplanes hidden somewhere in the region. Has the navy decided what other surface assets they can give us?"

"We have the Royal Navy, but not much else."

"Damn," Everett said as he looked at the waters surrounding Crete.

"All we have currently in the Med is the Tarawa-class Assault Ship Nassau and the Wasp-class USS Iwo Jima . The beach assault will comprise the Iwo 's eighteen hundred marines, supported by the Nassau 's eighteen hundred in a follow-up second wave. The two assault ships, plus whatever we can get through Italian airspace, from Aviano, will supply air support. We're just too damn low on assets in the area."

"My team is en route to Aviano as we speak. The navy has pulled SEAL Team Six out of Afghanistan and the survivors of SEAL Team Four from San Diego. The backdoor force will be supplemented with men from our Group and by a company of marines from the two attack carriers. We'll be going in light and fast."

"Right, get me your final plans as soon as you have studied the intel from Space Command more closely, and then I'll brief the president."

"Yes, sir."

Jack switched off the intercom and looked at his three men. "A lot of people aren't coming back from this one. I want you to know that you don't have to--"

"This speech really gets boring, Jack," Everett said; Mendenhall and Ryan looked at Collins as if he had insulted their mothers.

Collins just nodded.

As they looked at the map, Sarah McIntire walked into the room and saluted Jack.

"My team is ready, Colonel," she said.

Jack nodded. "Will, you and your protection team of ten men will accompany the lieutenant and her geology and paleolithic team to the Valley of the Kings. The president has called in a favor from the Egyptian president to get the team into the valley to find that back door. You will have no other backup, and I expect you and her to get in and get out safely and report. After you've located the subterranean gateway, we move in."

"Yes, sir."

Collins looked back down at the map and avoided Sarah's eyes. She wanted him to look at her again with something more than a military bearing, but she could see that he was forcing himself not to.

"Good luck, Lieutenant. Your transport is waiting."

She saluted again, but when Collins did not look up, she turned and left. Everett, Ryan, and Mendenhall turned to face Jack.

"Little cold with her, weren't you, Jack?"

Collins just closed his eyes and said nothing. Then he straightened from the map and looked at Mendenhall with his piercing eyes. The look alone said it all. His orders were clear.

"I'll watch her, Colonel."

Jack just nodded, not trusting his voice because of the fear he felt.

Tomlinson stared down the long shaft, the sides of which were shiny from the equipment used to widen it from its original series of stone arches. The rebar used to shore the downward-spiraling tunnel made it seem like a thirty-five-foot-diameter spiderweb. Tramcars sat at the entrance ready to transport the final troops and Wave equipment down into the city, of which 2.2 square miles was indeed dry, as they had hoped. All thought of the missing Dahlia was now far from his mind.

This was the pivotal moment in the history of the Juliai. Whole nations would be placed under the umbrella of the Coalition, which would dictate to the world the Ancients' laws of a demanding new society, a model of which had once been the city and civilization right beneath his feet.

Tomlinson shivered in the wind as he saw the shaft that would lead to his lost city. From there all things would be righted.

"Your people really came through, Mr. Director, I want you to know that," the president said as he looked through the window at the protesters out on Pennsylvania Avenue.

"Don't get all mushy on me. I still want my budget."

The president shook his head, then turned and sat in his chair.

"So, even if Colonel Collins finds this back door, what if the tunnel has collapsed in the thousands of years since it's been used?"