Battle For Atlantis Page 12

  “And you are, sir?” Chelmsford demanded.

  The Twenty-fourth’s adjutant hastened to make the belated introduction. “This is Mr. Uys, General. He is a scout in the Boer militia and has much experience fighting the Zulu.”

  “And do you have much experience leading a column of British regulars?” Chelmsford demanded of Uys.

  Even under his deep tan, Uys flushed in anger.

  “If your people had done a better job with the Zulu, my people would not have to be here now,” Chelmsford added as his steward brought out a covered dish.

  Uys nodded, as if he knew something the general did not. “Good day to you, sir.” He turned on his heel and exited the tent without another word.

  As Chelmsford went back to his meal, Uys paused outside the flap and looked about. Chelmsford’s tent was pitched on a small knoll, where the artillery, still hitched to their oxen, should have been deployed. Peering to the north and east, Uys could see a high escarpment--Isandlwana Hill--several miles away. He stiffened. He could swear there was someone up there, highlighted by the almost horizontal rays of the setting sun that came from behind him.

  **********

  Shakan saw the militiaman leaving the large tent. She felt his gaze touch her even at this distance. The man turned and went to his horse, galloping to the southwest and the Transvaal. Shakan knew he would not return. She was standing on the edge of the Nqutu Plateau to the north of where the British were.

  She was worried. The British were moving slowly. Too slowly. She did not know the exact day the battle was to be joined, but she sensed it needed to be soon. She had had the voice in her head all her life, sometimes louder, sometimes just the tiniest of whispers that she could choose to ignore if she wished.

  She was alone except for Cetewayo, the Zulu commander. Cetawayo had issued strict orders. The only Zulu south and west of the Nqutu Plateau were those who had put up the token fight at the kraal and retreated quickly as soon as they were engaged, a time-honored Zulu tactic to draw the enemy in. It was so time-honored that Cetewayo had hesitated to use it, until Shakan assured him that the British commander would not know of it.

  Shakan had spent most of her life alone. Her mother had taken her far to the north, out of the Zulu territories and beyond the reach of any who might want to harm the daughter of Shaka if they learned she existed. They lived simply, off the land, having little to do with the people in the area. Takir had died when Shakan was twelve, leaving her alone. But just before she died, Takir had led Shakan on a strange journey.

  To a cave four months’ journey away, in the very north of Africa. A cave where another old woman had been, as if waiting for them. A woman with white skin. But also with the Sight. Shakan had known that as soon as she entered the cave. The old woman had taken Shakan into darkness and beyond. A journey that had both frightened and thrilled the young girl. That was when she had received the first of her instructions from the voice.

  Standing here on this escarpment with the king of the Zulus was near the end of a long journey, one that she knew needed to be over with soon. Beyond the coming battle, she could not see nor had she been shown or told anything.

  “They are slow,” Cetewayo said, echoing her thoughts.

  “But they will keep coming,” she assured him.

  “There is one good thing about their slow movement, though,” Cetewayo said.

  “And that is?”

  The Zulu king smiled. “They will not be able to retreat quickly either.”

  EARTH TIMELINE--III

  Antarctica, July 2078

  Two more soldiers had been killed on the second jump, colliding in midair and becoming entangled in each other’s chutes. Chamberlain had reluctantly decided that enough was enough. He wasn’t even sure their assault would be an airborne operation. The Oracles had never · been very specific about exactly what form the Final Assault would take. For all he knew, they might have to walk into battle.

  Into battle was one last thing they needed to do, a time-honored practice for soldiers about to go into battle: prepare their weapons.

  When the final battles against the Shadow had been joined, the human armies had been dismayed to find that their projectile weapons did not work well against the Valkyrie armor. Bullets, even large caliber, bounced off. The Valkyries’ own spears could cut through the armor, but to get the spears, they had to first kill a Valkyrie, something that occurred rarely. By the time they managed to capture some of the Valkyries and investigate the armor, the war was over and the gates were closed.

  They’d discovered, too late, that the Shadow used nanotechnology in the makeup of the armor, and that projectiles fired at high velocity actually imparted energy to the molecules that made up the armor, giving them the power to stop the projectiles. A slow-moving projectile--almost a contradiction of terms to a traditional weapons expert--however, could penetrate. The problem was how to make such a projectile?

  The answer was a weapon that had to be able to do two things: fire a projectile to hit the Valkyries and then contain a secondary load that could penetrate the suit armor slowly.

  Attached to each member of the First Earth Battalion, on the shoulder of their firing side, was the M-6. Each one was three feet long, cylindrical, going from six inches in diameter where the circular magazine was, tapering to a two-inch-thick barrel from which the rounds exited. The n itself slaved to receptors on the suit forearm of the firing arm where sighting was integrated with the suit cameras via the computer. An infrared aiming point was projected from the gun’s barrel and picked up by the cameras. The gun also drew power from the suit because unlike guns that came before, it did not use gunpowder to fire the projectiles but rather an electromagnetic rail system built into the length of the tube.

  The cylindrical magazine held eight rounds, which were the key to defeating the Valkyrie armor. Each round was just under two inches in diameter so it could slide down the barrel without having metal-to-metal contact, kept in the exact center and accelerated by the electromagnetic field produced by the barrel on each firing. It took about a second for the barrel to recharge so the rate of the fire of the gun was thus limited.

  Each round was a pointed sabot, a casing that held the secondary round that would do the actual armor penetration. The sabot would impact the suit armor and come to a complete halt, stopped by the reactive nanotechnology. A millisecond after being halted, the sabot would split open, revealing the secondary round, which was an inch in diameter. It was a flat-nosed slug that contained a thermal charge that the scientists had discovered could momentarily burn a hole in the armor. The opening was very brief, less than half a second before the nanotechnology repaired it, but it was enough, for behind the thermal charge was the part of the round that killed whatever was inside the Valkyrie suit: a shell that exploded right after the thermal charge, sending a cluster of flechettes through the hole. It was a very complicated system that had taken years to perfect and had yet to be proven in combat.

  Chamberlain and his soldiers lined up fifty meters from the base of a long ridge. Engineers had placed targets, both stationery and moving, along the base, and the battalion spent a day firing.

  Chamberlain had never gotten totally used to firing the M-6 after being initially trained on conventional firearms. The silent operation as the round was accelerated down the tube and exited it was strange to him. The only sounds came when the round hit a target and the thermal charge went off followed closely by the flechettes charge, a strange double-pop that was slightly preceded by the flash of the thermal charge as it ignited, then the sound wave reached the fire.

  As the brutal sun went down, Chamberlain finally called a halt. They were ready. Now it was a question of when they would get the opportunity that decades of training and development had prepared them for.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EARTH TIMELINE--THE PRESENT

  Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center, San Diego, CA

  Dane watched as they lowered the dolphin that w
as to be his link into the larger tank. It looked none too pleased at being encased in the black suit and rolled a baleful eye at Dane as the derrick put it in the tube filled with thick green liquid. A woman in a wetsuit was on the edge of the tube, holding the large black helmet that would cover the creature’s head.

  “What’s the green stuff?” Dane asked which he figured was a reasonable question given that he would soon be in it.

  “We call it embryonic fluid,” Talbot said. ‘’The tanks are important because we use them to reduce to almost zero the physical sensation coming into your brain, allowing you to focus on the mental task at hand.”

  Dane watched as the woman slid a tube into the dolphin’s mouth. The creature did not seem to like what she was doing, thrashing back and forth, occasionally hitting the surrounding glass with a solid thud.

  “What’s going on?” Dane asked.

  “She’s putting the breathing tube in,” Talbot said. He paused, glanced at Dane, then continued. “That’s not the worst part. Watch.”

  The tube appeared to be in and the woman gave a thumbs up to the scientist manning the console between the two tubes. He hit a button. The dolphin thrashed even more wildly for almost a minute before becoming still.

  “What the hell was that?” Dane demanded. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his plan of action. “That doesn’t look like oxygen.”

  Talbot led him forward to a bulky machine that had clear lines coiled around the outside. A pump was moving, pumping a reddish liquid into the breathing tube that led up to the dolphin.

  “It’s a cooled, liquid oxygen mixture that is pumped · directly into the lungs,” Talbot said. “We--the navy--perfected it for deep-sea divers so they could handle the pressures at extreme depths. The machine is doing the lung’s jobs because once we go into operative mode the autonomic nervous system doesn’t function properly anymore, and we can’t count on either occupant of the tube to be able to breathe on his or her own.”

  “I’m going to be breathing a liquid?” Dane asked, knowing the question was stupid as the answer was right in front of his eyes.

  “It’s not too bad,” Talbot said, sounding completely unconvincing and belying his earlier statement about the worst being yet to come. “Come with me. Let’s get you geared up and explain what you’re going to experience.”

  “Great,” Dane muttered as Talbot led him along a short corridor to another room filled with equipment and consoles. A cluster of scientists waited, eyeing Dane as Talbot went to a table and picked up a black helmet, the human version of what had been placed on the dolphin. He turned it so Dane could see the interior. There was a thick padded liner.

  “This is the thermocouple and cryoprobe liner,” Talbot said. “Our goal is to allow you to focus your brain more clearly than you ever have before in your life. More than even the best trained monk. More than any human has ever been able to achieve.

  “I was faxed a top secret report from your boss, Mister Foreman,” Talbot continued. “In it he described some of the unique aspects of your brain. Your capabilities. We can help you with that. We know about the speech center on the right side and we tap into it with this”--he held up the helmet--“It is indeed the center for a residual telepathic capability, which apparently isn’t so residual for you and those like you.”

  Talbot paused and his eyes got a distant look. “If only we had known about you and your kind. We could have--”

  “Ditto,” Dane cut him off. “If I had known this technology existed, we might have been able to do a better job against the Shadow. But let’s stop the what-ifs and get on with it. What are you going to do to me?”

  “All right. First, we’re going to focus on your parasympathetic nervous system. This helps the body relax. Your pupils will constrict heart rate slow, the digestive system shuts down, and-most important--your muscles all relax. We do this by lowering your body temperature.”

  “How low?”

  “Low enough,” Talbot said. ‘’Then we give you some juice--electricity. Not much. And only in targeted areas. Thus, we can increase brain activity in those areas we want to. And in those areas we don’t want to be active, we insert a cryoprobe that lowers the temperature in the brain target areas to around ninety-three degrees. The neurons in those areas stop firing.”

  “What parts of the brain do you shut down?” Dane asked.

  “Those connected with the parasympathetic nervous system since those bodily functions are taken care of by the isolation tank,” Talbot said. “Every milliamp of power we can save is critical.”

  “What exactly is the microprobe?” Dane asked.

  “A microscopic wire that is inserted directly into the targeted areas of the brain.” Picking up Dane’s unease, Talbot hurried to continue. “The wire is so small that you won’t even feel it go in and when it’s removed there is no bleeding. The wire is less than point zero zero eight millimeters in diameter.”

  Dane sat down in a chair. He felt old and tired. He heard Talbot’s next words but didn’t really care. Explanation wasn’t that important anymore.

  “The thermocouple does the opposite of the cryoprobe.” Talbot said. “We direct thermal probes into those areas we want to emphasize. The wires we use are so thin you won’t even feel them go in.”

  That did little to reassure Dane.

  “After you’re in the tank and hooked up,” Talbot continued, “we then establish a link between you and the dolphin.” Talbot shrugged. “My RVers use the link to draw power. I’m not sure exactly what you’re going to do.”

  Neither am I, thought Dane.

  “Are you ready?” Talbot asked.

  “Yes.”

  **********

  Dane stared at the dolphin in the other tank as he was lowered into his own tank. It was a bizarre sight, floating in the water completely still, its head covered with the black helmet and the body with the skin-tight suit.

  Dane was surprised that the fluid was warm, given that Talbot had said it would be used to lower his body temperature. He was lowered to neck level, then one of the scientists In a wetsuit climbed to the edge of the tank holding the black helmet and a flexible tube.

  Dane reluctantly nodded. The scientist slipped the end of the tube into Dane’s mouth. He gagged as it passed into his throat, his body automatically trying to reject the foreign object. He could see Mart and Ahana watching, and he sensed Earhart’s attempts to send him calming thoughts and emotional support.

  “Easy,” the scientist whispered as she placed a hand on the back of his head, holding him still. His throat was still spasming when the woman nodded. Dane could see the red fluid coming in the tube and it took all his strength to remain still and not rip the tube out of his mouth. He felt a ripple in the tube.

  Dane’s chest heaved as liquid poured into his lungs.

  “Take it easy,” the scientist advised. “Try to relax.”

  That was impossible. Dane was drowning, his lungs filling. His diaphragm heaved as he tried to expel the fluid in a basic survival instinct. To no avail as more was pumped in.

  Although Dane knew the liquid contained oxygen and was sustaining him, his body couldn’t accept it for several minutes. Finally, however, his body stopped fighting the invasion and became still. Dane suddenly realized that the solution around his body was cold, very cold. They must have been lowering the temperature even as they poured the solution into his lungs.

  He couldn’t move. He watched with wide eyes as the helmet was slipped on and then his world went dark. He was lowered farther down, until he was completely immersed. He had little sensation other than an overwhelming feeling of cold.

  “I know you can hear me,” Talbot’s voice sounded loud in his head. “The cold feeling will go away very quickly. You’re doing all right.”

  Dane felt a buzzing inside his head and a light flickered in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t actually see anything so he had to assume the image was being fed into his brain via the various probes.


  “Watch the dot,” Talbot said.

  Dane focused on the small white spot. He realized it was changing colors, going from white to blue.

  “It should be changing colors,” Talbot said.

  Dane realized he could feel nothing. No sensation at all from his body. It was as if he were asleep yet awake at the same time.

  “All right,” Talbot’s voice now had a distant echo. “Your peripheral nervous system is shut down. We’ve got control of your breathing and your heart beat. Everything is working fine.” Talbot’s voice was growing fainter, as if he were moving away. “We’re going to--” and then the voice was gone and there was total silence. There was only the dot, now bright red.

  Then an explosion of pain that blanked out the dot for several seconds and brought only complete and utter darkness. It felt as if someone were tearing the top of his head off. Dane wanted to scream, but he couldn’t feel his lungs or throat or mouth to even make the effort. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.

  Then the dot was back and the pain began to fade.

  And there was noise. A very faint noise. Clicking. Something Dane had heard before. Where? When?

  It was a dolphin. Rachel had made the same noise.

  The ocean. Dane was in the ocean, swimming. Not using arms and legs, but his entire body. The water was gliding by on his skin, so smooth. He’d never felt so powerful. So free. He could see sunlight glinting above and darkness below, but he was in a warm band of cobalt blue. And he wasn’t alone. To his right was a dolphin, keeping pace with him.