James Glass - Sedona Conspiracy

“We’re going to push this thing back through the portal and light up their day. An extra push will help. I need a volunteer.”

Hands went up, but Eric hesitated. A ten second delay on a nuclear explosion, and they were going to push it into a tunnel? Maybe twenty miles in, and the bay would be safe, but how did they expect to get out in ten seconds?

While Eric was thinking, Alan chose a marine, and talked to the man while several marines were crudely hammering together a crate around the rearmed device. Alan had the timer in his hand, was explaining something to his volunteer. Eric was wondering how much extra thrust one man could give to a powered lifter when it was suddenly apparent to him that two men were doing the job and Alan himself was the second man.

Commanders didn’t go on suicide missions. That was too stupid for any military unit in the field, so what fact was Eric missing?

The crate was picked up on a lifter, turned sedately and headed towards the portal, which suddenly flickered and flashed on. Alan operated the controls, had the timer in one hand, and leaned a shoulder against the machine like his volunteer was doing.

“Good luck, sir!” shouted someone, and several marines saluted as Alan passed by them. The lifter accelerated, now within twenty yards of the portal.

Suddenly there was gunfire; two repeating flashes of fire came out of clear air from the left side of the portal. Alan cried out in pain, and his marine volunteer went down flat on his face.

The return fire was terrible, a hundred guns focused on one small area. Two figures shimmered into view by the portal, orange fluid gushing from their heads and bodies as they collapsed to the floor.

Alan clutched his free shoulder and pushed hard on the slowing lifter.

Well, screw this , thought Eric. He dropped his rifle and sprinted the few steps to the lifter, slamming a shoulder so hard against it that Alan nearly fell away.

“ You again. Just can’t stay out of it,” grunted Alan.

“You hurt bad?” asked Eric.

“Shut up for once, and push.”

“How far?”

“A few yards now.”

The rippling blue surface was close. Eric dug in his heels and pushed harder. There was a buzzing sound like static, and then a pull and a brief sensation of cold and blackness as the shimmering surface swallowed them—

And spit them out into a room with bright lights at the ceiling and a balcony on which three men stood, two of them young, the other older and quite familiar.

John Coulter saw him, and his mouth opened in an ‘O’. He looked behind him, and then lunged towards an instrument panel on the balcony.

Alan pressed something on the timer, and slid it on the floor into a corner of the room as Eric jerked the long-slide Colt from its holster and snapped off a shot at Coulter.

The bullet struck Coulter in the throat. He made a gurgling sound and clutched at his throat with both hands.

Eric aimed carefully and shot the man in the chest. Coulter toppled against a railing and went down on his knees, coughing blood.

“Come on!” Alan pulled Eric back by the shoulders, and there was a sensation of cold and blackness.

They fell onto the concrete floor of a dimly lit bay filled with marines, and behind them the face of the portal went from blue to red, and was gone.

Alan lay on his side, gripped a shoulder sleeve now soaked in blood, and smiled weakly. “Got the bastard,” he said, and passed out.

“Medic!” screamed Eric, and several men arrived to help their wounded commander.

Outside of the portal bay only a handful of people knew what had happened until after it was over. The only indication of anything unusual had been the automatic lockdown of the bay. Davis had been in touch with the control room when the smoke cleared, and by the time Eric got to Sparrow’s bay efforts were already underway to return Sparrow for flight. Dillon was there, and so was Davis, and a flatcar loaded with crated equipment was rolling into the bay on tracks.

“Well it’s good to see you didn’t get your ass shot off,” said Davis. Eric guessed he was trying to be funny, but it wasn’t.

“We lost a bunch of marines in there, Colonel.”

“ We didn’t lose anyone. Foreign troops on the base weren’t my idea, Price, but I guess it’s good we had them here. I hear Nutt was wounded.”

“Shoulder. The bullet went through. They said I could see him later this afternoon. He’s the commander of that marine unit, Colonel.”

“I know. Right in the middle of it. I guess I envy him. At least he has a command. Well, damn it, so do I. Sparrow will be back in this bay by dinnertime, and you have a flight test in two days. No more delays. Will you be ready for it?”

“Absolutely,” said Eric.

“Good. Dillon has two copies of a briefing delivered personally by Brown. Get it from him. I’m going back to the office.”

Davis suddenly smiled, and held out his hand. “I really am glad to see you alive, Price. Glad you could help shoot up some bad guys for us.”

Eric shook the man’s hand, and Davis walked away. Eric was left with the distinct impression that Davis hadn’t heard the whole story yet, including Eric and Alan’s dive through the portal.

He found Dillon by the flatcar, and the man knew even less. “Haul it out, haul it back in. False alarm, I guess. Davis says we have a definite go in two days, and this time I believe it. That guy Brown delivered these to me personally just a few minutes ago. One copy is for you.”

He handed Eric a thin, loose-leaf notebook. “Got time for coffee?”

“Sure,” said Eric.

They made the walk to Mess. Halfway there, Dillon asked, “That’s a marine field uniform you’re wearing. How come? You’re not military.”

“Davis wanted me to look like everyone else when he thought an attack was coming.”

“And it didn’t?”

“Well—”

“Don’t worry about it. I just wonder why you smell like a gunnery range. Need to know is the rule, and my job is to fly Sparrow, so don’t tell me anything.”

Dillon had coffee. Eric was ravenous and had a chopped steak topped with two eggs. For a few minutes they ate silently while Eric leafed through the notebook.

“Looks like we’ll be robots again,” said Dillon. “The whole flight is programmed once we reach space. All you do is throw a switch or two.”

“What’s N-space?” asked Eric.

“Never heard of it until now.”

“Says here our turnaround is N-space/Ariel sector 3.”

Dillon just shrugged his shoulders. “Like they told us last time, I guess. Just sit there and enjoy the ride.”

Maybe Alan can give me a clue , thought Eric. After the meal, Dillon went back to watch over the transfer of Sparrow. Eric got his kit, took a shower, and changed back into civvies. He asked for directions, and took an elevator up three levels to where he’d been told sickbay was located. He asked the corporal at the reception desk if he might be able to see Sergeant Alan Nutt, a patient there.

The corporal checked a card tacked up at a corner of the desk. “Sergeant Nutt is in room twelve, sir, but if you’re Doctor Price you’re supposed to go to room five first. Can I see some I.D.?”

Eric showed it to him. The corporal came around the desk and led him down the hall to room five. “In here, sir.”

The room was dark. There were two beds, and one was empty. A man lay in the other bed, back turned to Eric.

“Excuse me? I’m Eric Price. I was told to come to this room. There might be a mistake.”

The man rolled over. “No mistake, dear. You’re invited.”

Eric’s heart thumped hard twice at the sound of the man’s voice.