Area 51_The Sphinx Read online

  Mualama rolled into the coffin, Duncan on top of him. She pulled shut the lid—just in time, as the metal reverberated with the impact of the bullets.

  • • •

  The copilot of the Hind armed both outer Spiral antitank missiles. He received a lock-on confirmation from his sight on the grounded bouncer.

  “Firing one,” he announced. Immediately he hit the missile fire lever again. “Firing two.”

  As both missiles streaked toward their target, the pilot fired another burst from the nose-mounted machine gun at the long black pod.

  Hanging on to the door frame between the pilots, Balele watched both missiles impact on the alien craft. A cloud of dirt and debris obscured the target area.

  “Land us next to that black thing,” Balele ordered. “We will…” He paused as something blinded him. He blinked, and in that time period the unscathed bouncer had halved the distance between the two craft.

  “Evade!” was all Balele had time to scream before the forward edge of the saucer-shaped craft sliced into the front windshield of the Hind. The chopper’s blades splintered off as they hit the alien metal, and in less than a second the helicopter was cut in half, both parts falling like so much deadweight the three hundred feet to the ground.

  • • •

  Duncan heard the explosions, then seconds later the sound of something heavy hitting the ground nearby and secondary explosions. She felt Mualama below her, the top of the coffin pressing against her back, her eyes seeing nothing but absolute darkness.

  “Is there a way to open this from the inside?” she asked.

  “I’ve never been inside before,” Mualama replied in a subdued voice, “so I regret to inform you that I do not know.”

  Duncan reached around Mualama, feeling the bottom of the coffin. She arched her back, pressing against the top, but the metal was unyielding. “This is not good.”

  “It is better than what happened to my nephew,” Mualama said sharply.

  The sudden release of pressure on her back was not as surprising as the sunlight that momentarily blinded Duncan. She rolled on her side and blinked.

  “Ma’am, I think we’d better get the heck out of here.” Major Lewis held the lid up and offered her a hand.

  Duncan climbed out of the coffin, noting the burning wreckage of the helicopter and the unmarked bouncer.

  She stepped aside as Mualama pulled himself out. The tall African straightened and then gave a slight hiss of pain and doubled over.

  “What’s wrong?” Duncan asked.

  Mualama pointed toward his back.

  “Oh, God,” Duncan muttered as she saw the piece of white bone sticking out of his back.

  “It’s not mine,” Mualama said. He nodded his head toward the now-crushed skeleton in the coffin. “I felt it go in when we jumped in.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?” Duncan felt around the edges of the six-inch sliver that protruded. She couldn’t tell how deep the bone went in.

  “Pull it out,” Mualama said.

  “We can get you—”

  “Ma’am.” Major Lewis was scanning the crater walls. “Those guys in the choppers might have friends who are coming this way.”

  Duncan wrapped her hands around the bone and gave one quick, firm pull. The bone slid out, and the only indication of pain Mualama gave was a sharp inhale of breath. She tossed the bone into the coffin and pushed the lid down. When she turned back, Mualama was kneeling over Lago’s body.

  “Get this and the stone rigged with the cargo netting,” Duncan ordered Lewis. “Use the straps he already has around both.”

  Lewis nodded and turned to the bouncer. Using hand and arm signals, he got his copilot to lift and come to a hover over the objects.

  While Lewis was doing that, Duncan walked over to Mualama. She could see the blood still oozing from his wound, but she knelt next to him. She could hear him speaking in a low voice, the words rhythmic and in a language she had to listen to for a few seconds before recognizing it as Arabic.

  Mualama pulled a cloth over the dead man’s face and slowly stood. “Why is it always the young who die?”

  Duncan felt the pressure of time. If someone knew she had come here and tried to ambush them, there was no time to be wasted here. Mualama didn’t appear ready to talk, and the coffin wasn’t what she had hoped for when coming here. “We’re ready to go,” Lewis informed them.

  “Come on.” Duncan took Mualama’s arm.

  Mualama pulled his arm out of her grip. “How did they know we were here? No one knew Lago and I were, of that I am certain.”

  “There are spies everywhere,” Duncan said. “We’ll sort this out elsewhere.”

  “Why should I trust you?” Mualama argued.

  Duncan spread her hands helplessly. “I can’t tell you to trust me. But to be blunt, I don’t think you have much choice.” She nodded her head toward the burning wreckage of the helicopter. “There will be more like that coming. I don’t think you can outrun them in your Rover. And we do have some of Nabinger’s notes.” She turned for the bouncer and looked over her shoulder. “Your choice.” Mualama reluctantly followed.

  CHAPTER 13

  Vicinity Easter Island

  D - 32 Hours

  “Admiral!” The remote pilot’s voice echoed through the communication shack on board the USS George Washington. A storm was raging outside, with little sign of abating.

  Admiral Poldan hurried over. “What is it?”

  “I’ve got contact with Global Hawk. It’s just cleared the shield.”

  “Global Hawk? I thought it was down. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The admiral frowned. “What the hell’s it been doing? It’s nine hours overdue!”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Wouldn’t it be out of fuel if it had been in the air all this time?” Poldan asked.

  “It would be close, sir, but it might be able to stay up this long. It was built for long endurance flights.” The pilot was throwing switches. “My contact is weak with the computer. She seems damaged. It’s barely moving fast enough to stay airborne.” He looked over his shoulder at the admiral. “I recommend we bring her on board. I don’t think it can make it back to the mainland. Plus we can download whatever data her imagers picked up.”

  “You can land it on the flight deck?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do it.”

  The pilot returned his attention to his controls. “I’ve got it.” His hands delicately played with the joystick. “I’m bringing her in.”

  “I’ll be in flight observation,” Poldan said.

  The admiral went out the hatch, then climbed up to the observation deck, where the flight operations officer was in command. The rain had lessened slightly, and Poldan could see the entire flight deck but little beyond it.

  “Ops, I want you to suspend all launches and recoveries until we get Global Hawk down.”

  “No problem, sir. I’ve got only our CAP air cover up, and they cycled over twenty minutes ago, so they won’t need to come down for two hours.”

  “Do any of the CAP planes have visual on Global Hawk?”

  “Yes, sir. Eagle Three did a pass.”

  Poldan picked up a pair of binoculars. He focused on the trailing edge of the flight deck. His crew was running out the safety net to catch the Global Hawk, as it did not have a hook to snag the landing cable, the way carrier planes did. Poldan was impressed as the men strung the net in less than two minutes in the rain on the heaving deck.

  “Good job on the net, Ops.”

  “Thank you, sir. Radar has incoming half a mile out.”

  “How’s the path?” Poldan asked. The last thing he wanted was that Air Force jet jockey in the commo shack crashing the UAV into his flight deck.

  “Looking smooth, sir.”

  “Anything off, even the slightest bit, you get that remote pilot to do a go-around.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Poldan p
ut the binoculars to his eyes. The Global Hawk suddenly appeared out of the mist, gliding down.

  “She’s smooth and in the path, sir.”

  Poldan didn’t say anything. He watched as the wheels of the plane touched down perfectly, just fifteen feet from the trailing edge. The plane rolled forward and was caught in the emergency net, bringing it to an abrupt halt.

  “Maybe we ought to give that Air Force jockey a set of sea wings,” Ops said. “I want my deck clear ASAP.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Poldan lowered the binoculars. He was leaving ops when a startled yell spun him about.

  “What the hell!”

  The operations officer was staring down at the flight deck. Poldan ran up next to him.

  The Global Hawk was—the only word Poldan could use to describe what he was seeing—dissolving. The long wings were drooping down to the flight deck, then disappearing.

  Poldan brought the binoculars up and focused. The wings weren’t disappearing. They were breaking down into very small parts, those smaller parts flowing across the deck. They reached the legs of a crewman who had been hooking the plane up to be pulled out of the net.

  The man’s screams reached all the way to the flight operations deck as he was swarmed under.

  • • •

  Lisa Duncan had just finished putting a bandage on Mualama’s back when Lewis turned in his seat. “We’ve got a relayed radio contact that you should hear. It’s from Task Force 78 through one of the planes flying cover over the task force relaying from Admiral Poldan to Captain Robinette on the USS Stennis, and I thought you might want to listen in.”

  “Put it through.” Duncan picked up a headset and slipped it on. A burst of static came through the earpieces.

  “This is Eagle Three. I say… Three. Jesus Chr—… flight… Some kind of … what… crazy. Over.” The pilot’s voice was high pitched and excited.

  Captain Robinette’s voice came through clearly. “Eagle Three, this is Task Force 78. What is your situation? Over.”

  The static built up to a high pitch and then suddenly it was clear. “Seventy-eight, this is Eagle Three. I don’t know what the hell is happening! They’re jumping overboard! The Washington’s still under way—it’s turned for the island at flank speed! But the flight deck. In the rear. It’s gone! Gone!”

  Duncan leaned forward in her seat, pressing the headphones tight as she listened to Robinette. “Who is jumping overboard? Can you patch me through to the task force commander? Over?”

  The pilot’s voice had gone up another notch. “The crew! They’re going over the side! Something’s happening to the back of the ship. About forty meters of the flight deck, it’s changing, dissolving. Something. Jesus, I don’t know! It was that freaking plane.”

  “Eagle Three. This is Captain Robinette. Son, you need to calm down. What plane?”

  “The Global Hawk! It came back. They landed it on the deck, and now all hell’s broken loose.”

  Captain Robinette spoke again. “Can you patch me through to your flight ops? Eagle Three, do you understand? Over.”

  “This is Eagle Three.” There was a pause. The voice firmed up a little. “Flight ops ordered me not to attempt landing. They said something was happening, something was attacking the ship.”

  “Can you patch me through?” Robinette repeated.

  “Hold on.” There was crackling noise. Then a new voice, one that Duncan recognized, came on.

  “This is Admiral Poldan. Over.”

  “Admiral, this is Captain Robinette. What is your situation? Over.”

  “They’re getting control of my ship.” Duncan could hear the shock in the subdued tone of the admiral’s voice. “They’re taking it over.”

  “Who has?” Robinette asked.

  “Those things. They’re eating the ship. They’ve taken over steerage and the engine room. We are on a heading directly for Easter Island. Range eighteen thousand meters and closing at flank speed. They’ve taken my ship.”

  “What things?” Robinette asked.

  “They came on the Global Hawk. It landed and just began dissolving, breaking down into these things. They’re so small, you can’t even see them! They tear right through metal. And when they get hold of a person…” The admiral’s voice broke. “My crew. They’re jumping overboard. They’re running. You can’t fight these things!”

  “Admiral!” Robinette’s voice was sharp. “What is attacking you?”

  “I don’t know. You can’t even see them. Just this black swarm, but it has no form. I don’t know what it is. I haven’t been close to it yet.”

  There was a loud explosion in the background. Duncan could hear voices yelling.

  “Admiral?”

  “Someone blew up a five-hundred-pound bomb on the flight deck trying to stop them! Jesus.” There was a short pause. “Range to shore, seventeen thousand meters and closing.”

  There was a sharp crack. Some voices yelled in the background.

  “God! They’ve hit the bottom of the bridge island. We’re cut off.”

  Duncan pressed the transmit button. “Admiral, this is Dr. Duncan. What is happening?”

  “I’ve ordered the rest of the task force away at flank speed,” Admiral Poldan said. “The pilots are going to have to eject, as they don’t have enough fuel to reach land.”

  Lewis handed her a photo that had just come out of the SATFax. “Imagery from the KH-14 overhead, ma’am.”

  Duncan looked at it. The upper right was filled with the curving black line marking the edge of the guardian shield. Heading directly for it was the long rectangle representing the Washington. The rear half of the flight deck was a swirl of black.

  “What the hell is happening to your ship, Admiral?” Duncan demanded. “You’ve got to tell us before you go into the shield.”

  “I can see the shield.” Poldan seemed not to have heard the question. “It’s about six thousand meters dead ahead.” There were voices yelling, the sound of shots going off.

  “You can’t even shoot them,” Poldan said. “They’re too small and too many of them. They’re like a virus, spreading all over the ship. Jesus, they swarm a man under! Oh, God. They’re outside the hatch. They’re eating through the metal. I’m giving the order to abandon ship.”

  More shots resounded out of the speaker. A Klaxon reverberated in the background.

  “They’re here!”

  A scream echoed. It lasted for five seconds, then the radio went dead. Duncan keyed the radio. “Admiral Poldan?”

  “The admiral’s gone.” The voice of Eagle Three was shocked.

  “Eagle Three, this is Captain Robinette. You are to clear away from Easter Island.”

  “Sir, we don’t have enough fuel to make landfall anywhere.”

  “Do as Admiral Poldan ordered. Get close to one of your escort ships and punch out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All escort ships, this is Captain Robinette. Close on the last location of the Washington and recover whoever managed to get off, then get the hell out of there.”

  Lewis handed Duncan several more sheets of imagery. She laid them out in front of her. The KH-14 had tracked the George Washington as it headed toward the black cover of the guardian shield. Duncan stared at the pictures, focusing on the warped flight deck. Laying the images out in time sequence, she could see the progression of something moving outward from the rear flight deck. In one of the photos an F-14 had sat next to the warp. In the next one, the rear half of the plane was gone. In the next, it was gone entirely.

  “Ms. Duncan, this is Captain Robinette.”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Do you have the imagery?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Let me check on something,” she said. She pulled out the papers she had been faxed from the NSA regarding what the guardian had accessed through the Interlink.

  While she was doing that, Captain Robinette filled her in. “CINCPAC has or
dered the rest of Task Force 78 to back off to a minimum of two hundred miles from Easter Island after picking up the survivors.”

  “What about the Washington?”

  “We still don’t know what happened to it, but at the speed and direction it’s moving it’ll go under the shield in about ten minutes, and then we estimate it will hit the shore of Easter Island.”

  “How many people got off?” she asked.

  “We don’t know yet. It’s pretty confused out there right now.”

  Duncan stopped at a certain page as it suddenly occurred to her what she was looking at. “Jesus, we gave it to the damn thing.”

  “Gave who what?”

  “The guardian. Nanotechnology.”

  “What?” Robinette repeated.

  Duncan was remembering scientific briefings she’d received. “I think the Washington was attacked by a virus.”

  “A virus?” Robinette sounded skeptical. “How can a virus do that to metal?”

  “Because the virus is made of metal. Microscopic robots.”

  “What the hell do they want the Washington for?” Robinette demanded. “To make more of themselves.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Easter Island

  D - 31 Hours, 45 Minutes

  A seemingly irresistible force hitting an immovable object. Never in the history of man-made objects had something so large headed for something so solid at such a high rate of speed.

  Foam spewed from beneath the bow of the USS Washington as it steamed at flank speed, almost forty miles an hour, toward the rocky shore of Easter Island. The alien shield had briefly turned off, allowing it to pass through, and now the land was less than half a mile away. Displacing over a hundred thousand tons, its momentum was so great that even if the order had been given for full reverse to the ship’s engine room, there was no way it could avoid hitting the island at this point. But there was no one on the bridge who was capable of giving an order and no one in the engine room who would have been able to respond.

  The massive moai statues of the Ahu Nau Nau Grouping, just above one of only two beaches on the island, Anakena on the north side, stood tall on their ahus stone platform, gazing with stone eyes at the ship rapidly approaching them.