“There’s someone we need to talk with. She’s probably the only person on Earth who could tell us what it is.”
“Great. Let’s call—”
“All the satellite phones are down.”
“They are?”
“We’ll have to go to her. She was in Northern Morocco last I heard.”
Twelve hundred feet below sea level, just off the coast of Northern Morocco, David Vale sat at a small metal table, staring at the flashing words on the wall panel.
Surgery in progress…
A countdown ticked the seconds away.
3:41:08
3:41:07
3:41:06
3:41:05
But David could only think of one number: 39%. A 39% chance Kate would survive the surgery.
CHAPTER 9
Immari Operations Base Prism
Antarctica
Ares was sitting at the back of the situation room with Dorian and the operations director when the analyst approached them.
“Sir, we have the Chinese response.”
“And?”
“They say, ‘There can be no peace with any enemy who threatens to destroy the Three Gorges Dam. China’s walls have held barbarian invaders at bay for centuries. This will be no different—’”
Ares held his hand up. “Okay. For future reference, a simple ‘no’ will suffice.”
“Actually, sir, we see this as an opening, a possible clue to a bargaining point—something they want in order to talk. We release the Three Gorges Dam and maybe—”
“Stop talking. You’re making everyone who can hear you dumber. It was an unconditional demand to surrender.”
The analyst nodded. “Of course, sir.”
Several minutes later, the same analyst returned. This time, he avoided making eye contact with Ares as he placed a sheet of paper on the desk in front of Dorian. “The American response, sir.”
The man was gone before Dorian looked up. He snatched the page and read the single word. The sides of his mouth curled. Fools. No, brave fools.
He handed the page to Ares, who read the single word.
“Nuts. What does that mean?”
“It’s a historical reference.”
Ares stared at Dorian.
Dorian smiled, satisfied to be the one withholding the answers for a change. He decided to give Ares some of his own treatment. “I’m afraid you don’t know enough history to understand.”
“Perhaps you could grace me with a history lesson, Dorian. If that’s not too much to ask.”
“Not at all. We’re on the same side. As you know, it’s imperative for us to share information with each other. Don’t you agree?”
Ares stared at him.
“Let’s see… In 1944, during World War II, in the Battle of the Bulge, the American 101st Airborne Division was trapped in the Belgian city of Bastogne by heavy German artillery. They received a surrender demand from the German commander. They were starving, tired, and outgunned. It was hopeless, but their response was simply: Nuts!”
Ares continued staring, waiting with an impatient look on his face.
“The Germans shelled the town, nearly leveled it, but the Americans held on. Patton’s Third Army linked up with them less than a week later. The Allies won the war.”
Ares clinched his jaws. “What does it mean, Dorian?”
“It means that they intend to fight to the very last man.”
“So be it.” Ares stalked toward the door. “Yours is a very foolish race, Dorian.”
Yes, Dorian thought. But they were brave fools. That distinction was important to him. And at that moment, for some odd reason, he felt a bit of pride at their response, as nuts as it was.
Dorian had almost drifted off to sleep when the alarms in the Situation Room rang out.
“We’ve got incoming,” one of the techs called out. “Over a hundred planes.”
The massive screens in the center of the room switched to a map of Antarctica and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. Light green dots pulsed in the blue sea, just outside a round white line that radiated out from the Immari Base. The Orchid Alliance fleet, composed mostly of American, British, Australian, Japanese, and Chinese aircraft carriers and destroyers, inched closer to the line, but none crossed it. Smaller yellow dots, which represented the planes, ticked toward the white continent.
“All the ships are still outside the rail guns’ firing radius, sir. The planes just entered. Should we engage?”
“How soon until they can fire on us?” Ares asked.
“Five minutes.”
“Launch the drones,” Ares said.
Dorian turned to him. “Drones?”
“Patience, Dorian.”
The screen changed. Three of the smaller green dots broke from the fleet, moving south, across the white line.
“Three destroyers inbound.” The tech paused, studying the screen. “We can hit them with the forward rail gun battery, sir.”
“How long before the destroyers can fire on our guns?”
The tech worked the keyboard. “Twenty minutes. Thirty tops.”
“Ignore them,” Ares said.
Two minutes passed with hardly anyone saying a word. Dorian felt the tension in the room.
Another group of yellow dots sprang from the fleet. Hundreds of points, like sand from an hourglass, falling across the firing line, toward the white landmass and the Immari base.
“Second wave of planes. Three, no, four hundred this time.” Alarm spread across the tech’s face. “They’ve launched cruise missiles. We need to—”
“Hold your fire.”
Dorian eyed Ares. What was his plan? The rail guns could shoot the planes down but not their payload. If the first wave of planes fired, the Immari base would be essentially defenseless. And even if they survived the first wave of bombs and shot those planes down, the rail guns had a limited amount of power—and it took hours to recharge. They needed to be firing now.
“Show me the drone telemetry,” Ares said.
The right-hand section of the massive screen switched to a series of tiles that showed video feeds of the American, Indian, and British planes in the distance. Three of the video blocks were black squares.
“They’ve shot down three drones.”
Two of the lead planes launched missiles.
The tech turned to Ares and Dorian. “We’ve got incoming. They’re targeting the rail gun batteries. We can—”
Ares held up his hand. “That’s enough. Turn the drones around. Keep recording.” He walked to the front of the room and stood before the group. “They started this war. Now we will finish it—in the most humane way possible: with one strong blow. A strike that takes their very will to fight.”
Dorian took a step closer to him. What’s he talking about?
Ares tapped at a console on his wrist. The drone telemetry revealed the result. Massive fissures of light rose from the ice and then every square on the far right of the screen went black.
On the map, the hundreds of yellow dots that represented the planes went out.
The map flickered, then froze.
Dorian stared, finally realizing the truth. The drill teams. The devices Ares had buried had melted the ice along the perimeter of Antarctica, away from the Immari base, close to the fleet. The drones. The photos and video. He would try to use it as proof that the Orchid Alliance had started the war and caused the flood. Would the world believe it? How much ice had Ares melted? A flood of historic proportions would engulf the world.
Humane. That was Ares’ description. Dorian wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER 10
Alpha Lander
1,200 Feet Below Sea Level
Off the Northern Coast of Morocco
“Hungry?” Milo asked.
“No.” David had no idea if it were true or not.
Milo nodded.
“You should go,” David said, his voice hollow, his eyes on the floor. “Bring some back. She might be hungry when it’s over.”
“Of course.”
David didn’t remember Milo leaving. He blinked, and the teenager was gone. He was only vaguely aware of himself sitting at the metal table that had risen out of the floor in the adaptive research lab where he and Milo had found Kate. Two glass vats towered in the middle of the room, and just beside them, lights flickered in the cylindrical bay where Kate lay, undergoing surgery at the hands of the mysterious ship.
David’s eyes drifted down, the room faded, and the countdown seemed to jump forward in leaps.
3:14:04
2:52:39
What’s happening to me?
David put his head on the table and glanced up at the countdown only occasionally.
2:27:28
Milo was back, sitting at the table. A series of packages spread out. He asked a question. And another.
2:03:59
1:46:10
1:34:01
1:16:52
0:52:48
0:34:29