14

SOUTH ORKNEY ISLANDS

A thousand Argentinean and British soldiers watched as the Pyotr Veliky was towed into port by the two frigates of the U.S. Navy. The men gathered at the large dock were amazed at the damage incurred on the giant missile cruiser that looked as if she was about to succumb to the calm waters off Orkney. The sight even curbed the historic hard feelings between the two nations that had battled two decades before over the Falkland Islands. No man wanted to be witness to the scene of the proud warship as she was assisted into port.

Two of the men who had joined the crowd of onlookers were Admiral Carl Everett and former Master Chief Jenks who, with their men and materials, had just arrived by C-130 Hercules transports and now awaited their transfer to Camp Alamo. Carl had sent his remaining fifty-two men onto the large airstrip to load what gear they had remaining after the Gray strike on the Space Center.

Everett had explained to Jenks that Sarah McIntire and Jason Ryan, along with a woman he knew, was supposedly onboard the Pyotr Veliky—although he still didn’t know if the trio were alive or dead. The report had filtered through the soldiers waiting at the dock that the cruiser had suffered catastrophic losses in her brief engagement with the Grays. Everett saw the men who had saved the missile cruiser from going under start to line the decks as she was finally tied off and technicians ran aboard her like ants swarming a wounded elephant. They all saw the men of the battle-hardened ship wave as the vessel that had saved them moved quickly back to sea after escorting her in. The strange shape of the USS Zumwalt moved slowly past her damaged charge and blew her horn in salute to the proud Russian vessel. The men on the cruiser’s deck waved and hollered their thanks at the American seamen lining her stealth-designed angled decks.

“Glad to know the goddamn navy can get something right from time to time,” Jenks hissed as he puffed his cigar.

“Damn thing looks too small to fight a battle,” Everett said as he watched the stealthy frigate leave the small bay.

“Yeah,” Jenks said as he looked at the taller Everett, “well, everything tough doesn’t have to be big, does it, Toad?”

Carl laughed as he knew the master chief was referring to himself. “No, but it sure helps sometimes.”

Jenks cleared his throat and spit and then glared at Everett.

The men on the dock watched as a large Royal Navy shipboard crane started to lift a large object off the fantail of the listing cruiser. Technicians were screaming at the operators to lift it slowly. It was eventually placed down on a large transport awaiting its delivery. It was being taken to the hold of the large C-5a Galaxy waiting for it on the airstrip.

“I guess they’re in a hurry before all of this activity attracts prying eyes from up there,” Jenks said as he looked skyward into the crisp, cold air.

Carl joined Jenks in looking apprehensively into the sky. The combat air patrols by a squadron of Sea Harriers of the Royal Navy had ceased two hours before the damaged Pyotr Veliky had entered the bay. Too much attention to the area was the reason he figured.

Jenks stepped back as a dark-haired woman grabbed Everett by the fur-lined jacket he was wearing and turned him to face her. She kissed him deeply as Jenks raised his thick brows in wonder. Carl picked Anya Korvesky up and swung her around. He hugged her and then set her down with a serious look on his face.

“Sarah and Jason?”

Anya pointed to the ship’s gangway she had just run down to the consternation of the safety officials on the dock. Sarah and Ryan were walking down the thick planking with their bags. Sarah saw Everett and she waved, surprised to see him. Ryan was stunned as well as they reached the bottom and then hurried toward the waiting trio.

“Well, I see you’re done cruising with the Russian Navy,” Carl said as he hugged Sarah. He shook hands with Ryan, who immediately saw the new shoulder boards on the admiral’s fur-hooded parka. His eyes widened.

“Whose ass have you been kissing … sir?” Ryan asked as he turned to Sarah in mock horror.

“He better start by kissing mine since I have the fate of his men in my ample hands,” Jenks said as he eyed Anya up and down appreciatively.

“Master Chief?” Sarah said for her second shock in as many seconds.

“Hello, little lieutenant, glad to see you and Mr. Ryan made it off the communist pig boat alive.” He accepted the strong hug from McIntire. Jason shook the man’s hand and then shook his head. He turned to Anya and explained.

“Once upon a time, the admiral here sank the master chief’s boat … on purpose, if I remember.”

Anya smiled as she saw the memory was an especially fond one for Carl and Ryan, but not so much to the scowling little man they faced.

“Goddamn right it was on purpose.” Jenks started to turn away from the group. “And it’s Professor Jenks to you from now on, Commander Short Shit,” he said to Ryan as he started to walk off. “Now if you ladies would like to escort an old sea dog to his aircraft, we have a flight we have to catch.”

“I too have a flight to catch,” a voice said from behind them. Carl looked up and saw a Russian officer as he approached.

“Captain Lienanov,” Sarah said as she saw the man in full black dress uniform. “What’s going on?”

“It seems the powers that be have declared me shipless. The Pyotr Veliky has been declared unfit for sea duty and is to be scuttled immediately in a very much witnessed fire at sea, so as to make others believe she succumbed to her battle damage with her cargo still strapped on her deck.” He looked back sadly at the ship he had commanded for only five days. The very same crane that had lifted off the alien power plant was now lowering a duplicate mock-up onto the fantail where men of the missile cruiser were waiting to tie it down.

“I’m sorry, Captain, for the loss of your command,” Ryan said in total sympathy. The Russian officer raised his seabag and then stared at his company.

“Thank you, but she wasn’t really mine.”

“What now?” Sarah asked as Carl realized exactly what was planned for the captain.

“I would guess that the orders in your pocket are directing you to a place called Camp Alamo?”

“Yes, they do, and a transfer to another ship, but my orders are confusing at best,” he said in very good English as he looked closely at the twin stars on Everett’s shoulder boards. “Excuse me, Admiral, but they are rather ambiguous orders. It seems I’m being transferred to a vessel that is situated in the middle of Antarctica.”

“Well, Captain Lienanov, welcome to the world of ambiguity, and I suspect you are hitching a ride with us.” He pointed to the large transport truck leaving the dock area with the power plant strapped to its giant trailer. “And that too, to the aforementioned Camp Alamo, another rather ambiguous name that has connotations in American history that my colleagues here will gladly explain to you later.” Everett gestured for the small group to follow the master chief.

With one sorrowful look back at the now doomed Pyotr Veliky, Captain Lienanov turned and walked away from his first command.

*   *   *

The two enormous C-5M Super Galaxies were fully loaded to their capacity. Two hundred and seventy thousand pounds of men and cargo crowded the largest aircraft in the United States inventory. Sitting next to the Super Galaxies was the most obscure aircraft to take to the skies in many years. This strange aircraft would be carrying only one item in its bulbous belly: the alien power plant.

The colossal storage area of the French-owned Airbus A300-600ST “Beluga” had absorbed the heavy power plant like a hungry animal as the strangely shaped Airbus began lowering her top-mounted loading bay. Two other French-built Airbus A300-600ST Belugas had taken off earlier as a decoy and these too were flanked by two C-5Ms from Airlift Command in an attempt to fool any prying eyes that may be watching, as it was the designers of this part of Operation Overlord who knew they were pushing not only the program’s luck, but were also betting the lives of over six hundred men, women, and soldiers that transporting them in the bright sunlight of day would catch the Grays off guard.

The eight combined and extremely powerful General Electric TF39 Turbofans of the two Galaxies were brought up to full power, drowning out the full three squadrons of Royal Air Force Sea Harriers as they flew up and over the long runway at Orkney. The fighters would escort all three aircraft most of the way to McMurdo Station’s Pegasus runway, where the American weather station operated the only landing site on the Antarctic continent that could support the heavy transport aircraft that was arriving there.

As the Beluga lifted off with her heavy load, no less than sixteen Sea Harriers took up station, above, beside, and under the French Airbus. The Beluga made a radical change of course and then climbed to the north before they would make a course correction and hopefully one that would confuse any unwanted onlookers.

Admiral Everett was invited up to the Galaxy’s large fly-by-wire cockpit as a courtesy to the navy by the air force and allowed to sit at one of the engineer consoles as the colossal transports took off. Once in the air the pilot nodded his head at his copilot and the Air Force colonel removed a message flimsy from his clipboard and tapped his headset so Everett could put his on so he could hear over the roar of the powerful turbofans. Carl slipped the headphones on and accepted the message.

“Just to let you know, these four aircraft are hot. I think the Defense Department has them on their stolen vehicles list.” The colonel looked to the pilot and then back at Everett. “The acting president and his new chairman of the Joint Chiefs ordered us home two days ago, but we all developed engine trouble in the extreme cold down here,” the copilot said as he smiled with tongue firmly planted in cheek. “The Air Force Chief of Staff and the head of Air Force Intelligence send their regards and hopes this operation is worth it.”

“So do I, Colonel, so do I.”

Carl raised the message and read.

Gray attack on Camp Alamo and Operation Overlord imminent …

Operation Gray Strike is fully activated with truncated training schedule …

Defensive command at Alamo has been warned as per this message …

Operation Overlord will commence within two days …

Good luck and God speed …

Caulfield, General (USA Ret.)

Carl folded the message, then thought better of it and handed it to the engineer, who noticed the worried look on the admiral’s face. He accepted the message, tempted to see what it said.

“Destroy that as soon as you can, but pass it around to your men first, they deserve to know.” Carl removed the headset, then stood and first patted the pilot and then shook the colonel’s hand in the right seat. “Thank you, gentlemen … for everything. As soon as you make your drop off get the hell out of Dodge as soon as you can. I have a feeling the skies in this part of the world’s going to turn hot real fast. Get home safe.”

Everett moved off and down the stairs and saw his friends as they explained what they could to Captain Lienanov. Jenks was at one of the fold-down desks that were arranged for the relief crews to file reports during flight. He had headphones on, listening to his engineering notes. He nodded his head at Sarah, Ryan, Anya, and Lienanov, then moved aft and down another short flight of steps and saw the men he was looking for.

He saw the two teams of commandos as they rested against the vibrating skin of the giant aircraft. He shook his head as he noticed that the SEAL and Delta teams were still separated by their disrespect for each other’s abilities. He became angry but held it in check as he grabbed hold of a safety strap and leaned in to the two operational leaders of the two teams. Both officers were new as the first two had never made it out alive after the attack on the Space Center.

“I want these men broken up into mixed teams.”

The naval lieutenant and the army captain looked up. Both had questioning looks on their faces as Everett leaned in.

“Sir?” The SEAL turned and offered the same questioning look to the Army Ranger picked to replace the Delta team leader. The Ranger just sat there with his training schedule locked in his hands.

“Look, I know the engine noise in here is loud enough to drown out a locomotive, but if I have to say things to you gentlemen twice I’ll throw your asses right off this aircraft. Do you understand what I’m saying now?”

The Army Ranger braved getting thrown off the Galaxy. “I hear you, sir, but don’t follow.”

“Yeah, you’re Army, all right,” he said. The Navy SEAL tried to hold back the small snicker that escaped his mouth. Everett just leaned closer to the SEAL and glared. “I know the SEALs have changed since my days in Team Five, and the navy has had to make hard choices about who they accept these days for the duty, but don’t advertise the fact that you’re a dumb fuck that doesn’t know shit, all right, Lieutenant Shit-for-brains?”

Not even the Army Ranger was tempted to laugh at the dressing down of his counterpart.

“Now, take your rosters and mix these men up evenly between ingress and assault. I want the new team rosters before we land at McMurdo. Is that clear, or do you want me to stand here and explain why an admiral always gets his way?”

Both young officers remained silent for the longest three seconds of their lives.

“Yes, sir,” both said simultaneously.

“I’ll meet the men in fifteen minutes to explain why their part of this mission will be either their moment of triumph or the biggest cluster-fuck since Operation Eagle Claw in Iran. It all depends on how they work together. Am I clear?” The famous 1980 foul-up in the Iranian desert had occurred when differing and mixed commands brought the rescue operation to free the embassy hostages to an abrupt and disastrous conclusion.

“Yes—”

“I said, am I clear?” he shouted, getting the attention of the two teams lining the bulkheads of the Galaxy.

“Yes, sir!” the two officers said as they jumped to their feet, colliding with each other as they did.

Carl let go of the strap and then started to say something else, but was interrupted by a familiar voice from behind.

“Admiral, can I have a minute?”

Carl turned, ready to continue his tirade against whoever had the balls to interrupt him. His eyes took in Jason Ryan as he removed his cold-weather parka and then held the cold, blue, angry eyes of his friend.

Carl turned and gave the two men a look. They were still standing at attention even with the heavy rocking motion of the transport.

“Gentlemen, rosters before we land, and tell the men I’ll speak to them in fifteen.” Everett turned and followed Ryan back toward the front of the Galaxy.

Ryan stopped near a pile of strapped-down gear and turned to face Carl. “Admiral—”

“Look, don’t do that.” Everett too removed his cold-weather jacket and then tossed it on the cargo netting holding some of the assault gear in place on their pallet.

“Do what?” Ryan asked, knowing full well the meaning of Carl’s statement because he had felt the exact same way after being promoted to full commander a month earlier.

“Address me by that rank.”

“Okay, then I won’t call you that, but they will,” he said, pointing toward the two frightened officers he had just left.

Everett lowered his head and then turned and looked at the two men as they looked lost and at a loss on where to start with the extraordinary orders they had just received. He turned back and took in the small, dark-haired naval aviator.

“They don’t know you as Carl, or Captain, or as a friend from a closed Group. Those men know you as Admiral Everett and will never know anything else. They have come to terms with the fact that someone far over their heads thinks of you as someone who can pull off whatever way they have designed to get you”—he again nodded back at the men—“and them killed. But maybe, just maybe those people who saw fit to promote you actually knew what they were doing, Admiral, just like they knew what they were doing when they placed Jack into the same situation. They have seen you two work together and know that they have a fighting chance to succeed with you two in the positions you now hold. Those men deserve Admiral Everett, and not the SEAL you still think you are. Because to tell you the truth, they are that good and will die proving it.”

Everett eyed his friend for the longest time and then shook his head. “Just when in the hell did you become so deep thinking?”

“I guess being separated from Will has made me look smarter. I’m still the same ruggedly handsome naval aviator I was a few days ago.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” He started to turn away and return to the men he was to train, but stopped and held onto some loading straps to face Ryan. “And I guess those same powers that be saw something in you also, Commander Ryan.”

“Nah, they were just mesmerized by my rugged good looks too.”

BLAIR HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Giles Camden listened to his new designee for the directorship of Central Intelligence, Daniel Peachtree, as he explained his run-in with Virginia Pollock at Walter Reed.

“And she still refuses to give us that damn asset of theirs?” the president asked, fuming over this woman’s refusal to fear his office.

“Not only that, she practically dared us to come after him,” he lied.

“Well, we have the men in the area and I have warned the director of the FBI that he had better come up with an exact location of this complex and raid the damn thing and get me that alien son of a bitch. How these people could be so gullible as to believe the same kind of beings that eat people is beyond me.”

Camden’s chief of staff cleared her throat to get the two men’s attention. With a wary eye toward Daniel Peachtree she stood and handed the president a report in order that the subject be changed from that mysterious base hidden in the desert of Nevada, to a more real threat to his power.

“Sir, General Caulfield sent this message through the auspices of the National Security Agency and routed through the communications hub at Fort Huachuca.”

The president read the message and then angrily tossed it into the trash next to his desk.

“What this treasonous action amounts to is a general military coup. I have to bring the military’s refusal to follow a presidential directive straight to the American people. This is unprecedented.” He fumed and then stood and paced his office. “I want Caulfield brought up on charges, along with the people responsible at NSA for forwarding this message. I also want the Air Force Chief of Staff’s resignation on my desk immediately!”

The female chief of staff looked petrified at the orders. “Sir, if we bring all of this out into the open more than it already is, the faith in this office is going to tumble even further than it has to this point. The press is asking a lot of questions as far as the resignations of the former president’s staff and the firing of so many military advisors.”

“What in the hell do you mean, even further than it already has?” he demanded.

“Mr. President,” she started, facing the man directly. “Our friends in the news outlets have seen a trend and they don’t particularly like it. Even though the American people had disagreed with the spending on military preparedness, they now know the reasons why, and are starting to wonder why so many of the cabinet and military personnel are quitting over your new Home Shores First policy.”

“That is exactly why I have to tell the people about the refusal of the men around me to do as they are instructed to do to protect them.” He waved his arms maniacally. “When they find out that we have designed a defensive plan developed by one of those alien bastards, they will see why that plan cannot, should not be trusted.”

“Sir, announcing a possible coup by your military, a scenario that has not once been uttered in the history of the presidency, will not bode well with the current emergency happening. It will only further confuse the issues you are trying to make clear to the American people,” Peachtree said. He finally got the first warning signs that Camden had lost control of the situation.

“This also came in,” the chief of staff said as she handed the president another message from the Pentagon. Peachtree shot the woman a look as if she had just thrown a can full of gasoline onto an already out of control fire. “It seems the 7th Fleet has turned around to conduct rescue operations in and around the South China Sea. The situation is confused at the moment, but the communiqué looks as if it was forwarded through the offices of the NSA. I have looked into the matter and haven’t found any smoking guns thus far, but I am still checking.”

Camden sat there stunned at the information.

“Also the Air Force is still slow in implementing your order to cease all cooperation with this Operation Overlord. They claim bad communications due to alien activity coupled with bad weather. I’ve checked through the Pentagon and the area of concern is clear skies and no communication interruption.”

“It is a coup,” Camden mumbled as he looked at Peachtree.

“Mr. President, allow whatever it is to happen. We’ll fight this in our own time with the Constitution in our corner. But for right now you need to explain to the citizens why you are wholeheartedly against this plan of action.”

“To do that I need that asset that’s hidden away from my CIA and the rest of my people. I need that Matchstick, or whatever its name really is!”

“With the threat I made at Walter Reed to that Pollock woman, we may see some progress in that area very soon. In the meanwhile, there is a bit of good news.”

“Oh, please tell me,” Camden said with sarcasm lacing his voice.

“It seems the message sent to the Overlord command structure has warned of an imminent Gray attack on their hidden facilities. We may have little to worry about in that regard very soon. Then you can claim that you were right in not backing the former holder of this office in his plan for defensive cooperation. Also, not all of your military is refusing your orders. The task force consisting of the George Washington and John C. Stennis Battle Groups have turned away from their ordered route toward the Antarctic. They will not be there if called upon for support. It seems the admiral in command was not a friend of Admiral Fuqua, nor, dare I say, General Caulfield.”

“So you recommend that we do nothing for now, just play the ‘little boy being picked on’ by the military bullies in power?”

“Exactly.”

Camden thought about this as he returned to his chair and sat. He paused as he looked at his Chief of Staff, who nodded her agreement.

“All right, I’ll wait to cry wolf at the door, but I need that alien and I want to know what it knows. I am a firm believer that the former president has been lied to; even he couldn’t be that big of a fool.”

Peachtree turned to the president’s chief of staff. “Would you excuse us for a moment, please,” he said with a smile.

She looked frustrated as she never trusted the man standing before her boss, but moved to the door and left regardless.

“I didn’t mention this before, but that Dr. Pollock knows a little too much about the murder of Lynn Simpson Collins, and has threatened us with that knowledge.”

Camden couldn’t believe what it was he was hearing. The same nightmare he had faced before taking office was still rearing its ugly head—the one thing that would not only get him thrown from office, but also would send him to prison. He remained quiet.

“I have informed the Black Team in Arizona that they are free to get their hands on this alien asset any way that they can.”

“And?” Camden asked expectantly.

“And to immediately eliminate the only bread crumb in the trail leading back to us.”

The president knew he shouldn’t have listened to Peachtree in the first place when it was suggested they use Hiram Vickers to find the asset. But he had, and there was no sense barking about it now.

“It’s about time. Kill that stupid bastard. It seems everything has gone wrong for us since he mindlessly murdered that girl and brought her brother closer to finding out who Vickers really worked for.”

“That is already in the works, and we have the men that will not only do that, but get the asset as well. You’ll get the truth of what’s happening from the mouth of that little alien very soon.”

Camden nodded and could only mumble the words of possibly the only thing that could save his presidency: “The Matchstick Man.”

CAMP ALAMO

ANTARCTICA

Jack and his new staff gathered inside of his office that he was assigned. The new men, Major Sebastian Krell and Lieutenant Van Tram, had been assigned to coordinate getting men and equipment outside for training purposes, a topic that had been both men’s main gripe since meeting up with Collins. Meanwhile, Will Mendenhall was standing over the desk, feeding the general sheet after sheet of paper with the assigned troops under his command, while Henri was assigned to liaise with the troops of the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions and the German 23rd Panzer Division. Henri’s fluency in all languages guaranteed confusion but Jack had no choice. Farbeaux knew battle tactics as well as himself. He had handed Collins the status of his command. The general had over seven thousand combat troops and their equipment, sixty-five Leopard II main battle tanks, and two hundred armored personnel carriers of both Bradley Fighting Vehicles and the German-made Fuchs 2 wheeled personnel carrier.

Henri had reported that he was concerned about the wheeled vehicle of the German Panzer division and the way it would handle in the ice and snow when called upon to run interference for the Leopard IIs.

“Colonel, I suggest you bypass the nomenclature of the book specs and go directly to the soldiers that operate the system. They’ll tell you straight if they believe the Fuchs can do the job or not. If they can’t, get them off the line. But I suspect they will.”

“I will do that,” Henri said as he passed another report and design specs toward Collins, who picked it up and looked at it. “These are the design specs for the new tracks for the Panzers and the Bradleys. You see why the planners are so nervous about the maneuvers you have requested. The deep-seated spikes can really tear up the ice and could be a possible trail for anything with eyes to follow straight back to the facility.”

Jack examined the new design and saw that instead of the normal padded tread of the American-made Bradleys and the M1 Abrams, these were heavily spiked. Those steel anchors designed for traction purposes would find purchase in this environment by digging in deeply.

“Damn, I hate to say it, but Sir Bennett and his people have a point. Damn, is there any chance of getting the Panzers’ and Bradleys’ old padded tracks on?”

“Again, military planning,” Farbeaux said with a smirk. “They weren’t sent along with the replacement parts or equipment.”

Collins rubbed his eyes and then looked at Mendenhall. The captain shook his head.

“Do you think we’ll even have the time to get a training and maneuvering field test in after the warning from General Caulfield?”

“It would have been nice just to find out if the damn Panzers could even move out there.”

Van Tram and Sebastian Krell joined them at the desk. “The SAS colonel has requested extra security for something they call Poseidon’s Nest,” Major Krell said as he handed Jack the communication. “He says at least four hundred men from either the 82nd or 101st would be adequate.”

“Oh, is that right? And what am I supposed to do when those commanders scream bloody murder because I’m taking away from their already short-staffed divisions?” Jack looked at Krell, not expecting him to answer.

“The men he would take are very important to both divisions, sir. He wants the fast-reaction force that is to plug any gap in the lines if and when the Grays get close to this Poseidon’s Nest, whatever that is.”

“Thank you, Major.” Jack stood and walked to the wall map of Camp Alamo and the design of its interior. As he looked he saw a large blank spot that wasn’t filled in with detail. He jabbed at the section that lay ten miles distant and was connected by only one ice tunnel. “Major, I suspect your Poseidon’s Nest is right there, as everything else is in use and explained.”

Krell stepped forward and examined the spot Jack was pointing at. “Yes, sir, I agree.”

“That’s about enough of the compartmentalized and need-to-know bullshit. Will, get me Sir Bennett on the line. I need a meeting with him and our mysterious Admirals Kinkaid and Huffington within the hour. Say I insist for security reasons.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Henri, you feel like getting out of here for a while?” Collins asked while staring at the blank spot on the map.

Farbeaux laid the multitude of paperwork down and then looked at the general.

“Why do I get the honor of getting out of all of this wonderful paperwork?” the Frenchman asked.

Collins turned and faced him. “Because if they don’t show us what in the hell they’re protecting, I need you to get us inside there. And if the SAS is protecting that site, I need all the sneaky-bastard stuff I can get to bypass the most dangerous security in the world. After all, it was the Special Air Service that trained us both, as I recall. And besides, all they can do is shoot us.”

Will paused with the phone in his hand. Tram and Krell smiled.

“Well, I didn’t get all dressed up to do paperwork. After you, General Collins.”

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later both Farbeaux and Collins were sitting in the main conference building facing Professor Bennett and Admirals Kinkaid and Huffington. The men didn’t look too pleased at being ordered by this man to a meeting that was not planned.

“General, I appreciate the difficulty you face not knowing certain aspects of Overlord, but I must say what you ask just isn’t possible at the moment, at the proper time we—”

“Now, sir,” Jack said as he eyed the man in charge of Alamo.

“General, Sir Bennett is only responsible for the defense of Alamo, not the area in question. That is ours and ours alone,” Kinkaid said. “The SAS is under the strictest of orders from not only Lord Durnsford, but your own president and your Dr. Compton, to keep this played as close to the vest as possible, and to keep that area secured. So no, your request is denied until such a time as we see fit to explain.”

Jack had been thinking about this area and had decided to play a hunch as he remembered everything ever explained to him by Niles Compton. He was about to bluff his way into Poseidon’s Nest.

“Look, I know the British government discovered the site. I know that artifacts were uncovered there that may or may not affect me, and a colleague of mine, directly. Your dig may have started out as an archeological function four years ago, but you found more than just a watch there. You found Overlord. Now, how close did I come?” He eyed both naval men, who sat with their mouths agape.

Professor Bennett laughed lightly.

“Well, you were warned when the general was assigned that he wasn’t your typical soldier and was capable of deduction beyond the officers you are used to working with.”

“I … I…,” Kinkaid started but didn’t know how to begin his denials.

“Gentlemen, it’s time we show the general what he is here to protect. I believe the time for spy versus spy has passed, as we are dangerously short of time. You gentlemen have yet to install the power plant that is still in transit from McMurdo Station, and have even yet to see if the bloody thing will work with technology it was never meant for—after all, we only have the assurance from our small alien friend that the two systems are even compatible. Let us share with the general what it is Her Majesty’s government uncovered over thirty years ago and has spent the fortunes of six countries to develop and repair, shall we?”

Admiral Huffington slammed his palm down on the tabletop. The Royal Navy man was furious, but he was in a tight corner because everything the professor had said was true—they were out of time. He nodded his head in agreement.

“Well, General Collins, gather your staff and tell them to meet us in section 2287. It is a very long ride. And tell them to dress warm.”

Jack stood as well as Farbeaux and was soon joined by Sir Bennett.

“Shall we go and introduce you to Overlord?”

*   *   *

Sir Darcy Bennett, Collins, and Farbeaux met Sebastian, Tram, and Will at the large junction that had tunnels carved in the ice that ran off in differing directions like the spokes of a wagon wheel, with the exception of one. This one was closed off to the men and women of Camp Alamo and sealed with a large steel door. Standing guard at the door were five SAS soldiers in white camouflaged battle dress, with two fifty-caliber machine guns stationed on either side of the dual sliding doors.

As they waited a tram pulled up with Admirals Kinkaid and Huffington, who looked none too pleased at the filleting of their security precautions. General Collins’s outright refusal to add additional security, as per their request, probably did not help matters. Collins steadfastly refrained from answering, only saying that he was fearful that by breaking up individual teams from the 101st and 82nd, especially with their lack of Antarctic training, would muddy what little teamwork the two divisions had established during their original mountain training of six months before. To break up men who had at least that much training together, sending 10 percent of them to Overlord, would disrupt Jack’s command. As the defense leader he had that right to refuse—that’s why he had the two stars on his collar. Thanks to Sebastian, Tram, and Henri, the admirals never thought that Jack’s staff could find enough excuses to refuse them, and they were, to say the least, put out by this.

The two men waited inside the automatically driven tram as the men loaded in. The SAS watch commander checked the identification badges that hung around their necks; even the two admirals were questioned and then finally passed through.

The men were placed inside the tram in groups of threes and the final two rows of seats were reserved for four heavily armed SAS soldiers. Admiral Huffington nodded at the gate security and from a glass-enclosed booth the guard opened the automatic blast doors. Collins watched from the second row of seats as first one set of doors opened left to right and slid into the ice wall on either side; then just as rapidly a second set of heavier, thicker doors slid up and into the ceiling and floor. As the men looked beyond they saw that the track was concrete and that it vanished after only a few feet inside the large-mouthed tunnel. The tram started forward without any noise other than the wind rushing down the tunnel. The temperature dropped dramatically as the car moved in.

As they watched the crystalline ice slide by, the speed of the tram increased, creating an additional freezing wind that reddened their faces. Then the car angled down sharply. Jack heard Will Mendenhall yelp—Will was afraid of anything that moved without him being in control. That was thanks to Jason Ryan. Ryan scared the young captain any chance he got with his flying and the driving of any wheeled vehicle. Jack had always meant to talk to the navy man about freaking everyone out with his prowess with machines, but never had gotten around to it.

Professor Bennett, sitting next to Jack, started to explain that which he had already partially guessed, but never in his wildest imagination did he expect to hear the real story of the origins of Operation Overlord. Before Bennett started, a glass bubble came up from both sides of the tram and then a clear glass shield did the same at the front and the rear. The tram slowed while still on a downward angle and then came to a stop. Before anyone could even think about what was happening, the tram started straight down on an elevator the men never saw. It started traveling at a high rate of speed and then suddenly stopped, and then before that shock wore off the tram started forward once more, this time at a slower rate of travel. As the lighting came up at a higher illumination, Collins and the others could see that the strata of ice had changed dramatically. It was now mostly solid and transparent. It was literally a block of ice they were traveling through.

Sir Bennett placed a small headset on as the two admirals frowned, and started telling the tale they all had waited to hear.

“Gentlemen, what you see all around you is a prehistoric inland body of water, named the Shackleton Sea. It was discovered approximately thirty-five years ago by a British survey team sinking test holes for volcanic activity. In the estimation of our science boys, and through the efforts of the University of California and the National Weather Data Center in the United States, we have come to the conclusion that the Shackleton Sea is well over 700 million years in age.”

Collins looked back and saw that his four staff members were duly impressed as the frozen sea whizzed past them at thirty miles per hour and was still traveling deeper as Bennett continued.

“Species of microbial life from the time before the continents separated have been recovered during excavation—animal life never before seen or documented. As the geology teams continued to drill for core samples, some very amazing things started to be brought up from this very, very deep sea. Things, gentlemen, that had no right to be anywhere on this planet at any time in its history—shards of metal, pieces of dense unknown carbon fibers, and, dare I say, even human remains.”

Farbeaux had his sense of wonder piqued as he looked from the green-tinted ice toward Mendenhall, who didn’t look like he was enjoying the tour one bit as the tram traveled even deeper. Bennett seemed to sense Will’s unease and added another little trivia fact.

“I dare say that we have one point eight miles of inland sea above our heads at this very moment.”

Mendenhall lowered his head and it was the small, very intrigued man from Southeast Asia that gave Will a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as the captain just realized that after his trip into outer space and his ride to the moon, he had developed an extreme case of claustrophobia.

“Through an accidental break in the ice in the eighties, a weather team of scientists discovered something rather bizarre that sent our world into chaos. After we achieved access we sent large teams down into the sea and started analyzing the find. Finally, after we analyzed the samples of composite fiber, plastic, and steel from an ancient discovery, we were shocked to see the artifact, to say the least, was viable to the point that it looked brand-new, despite the scorch marks and damage it had sustained during some confrontation or the other. Four years ago, after the moon missions and the discovery of alien technology in South America, we started to share our amazing find with our counterparts in America, and thus we learned about your little house guest in Arizona. We learned the tale of the tape, so to speak, of the ancient war between Mars and our common enemy, the Grays. Then it all started to make sense with the information of the finds on the moon and the magnificent technology uncovered in Peru.”

Jack knew the story, and hoped Will could come up for air long enough to explain to the others, as they only knew their little contributions to the entirety of the tale.

“Through the cooperation of entities inside of America”—Jack knew Bennett was referring to that little secret facility in the desert—“a deal was struck to give our government and others a certain amount of access to Mr. Mahjtic. His explanation of the disastrous war 700 million years ago sent us off in a new direction as far as excavating this site was concerned. But the current defense plan was not engineered until an old plan was taken from the files of Garrison Lee, a man I greatly admired and one who was familiar with the head of our MI6, Lord Durnsford. That gave Senator Lee’s conclusions instant credibility, at least in our eyes. It seems Lee, being responsible for the conclusions reached at Roswell those many years ago, came to the conclusion, rather quickly, that we hadn’t a chance of fighting such a war with the Grays. We would lose and lose badly. The obviousness of his findings was what led to the creation of Operation Overlord, with one vital piece missing.”

“The use of alien technology to fight,” Jack mumbled as he watched the passing ice sea.

“Correct, General, very good.” Bennett smiled over at the two stone-faced admirals. “Senator Lee’s conclusions were reached after he studied what remained of the evidence at Roswell. But, gentlemen, he never realized that an earlier war had been fought millions of years before the event at New Mexico. But when the mine system in Peru was discovered he became aware in the final moments of his life what the finds really meant, and passed this on to to your president while he laying dying inside Air Force One on the runway in Peru.”

Collins now remembered that Alice and the president were the last to speak to Garrison Lee in the moments before his death and now he knew what was told to them by Lee: recover any and all Martian war material for use in the upcoming fight. He knew that man’s true ancestors, the very beings that made Earth their final refuge, had left the means to do battle.

The tram started to slow as they approached another, even larger gate system.

Bennett removed the headset and mic from his head, then leaned over to speak with Jack privately.

“As we expanded the archeological site surrounding the Shackleton Sea, we found something that confused everyone in the know on the events on the moon, in Peru, and here, General.”

“You brought up Carl Everett’s wristwatch containing samples of my blood,” Jack said, not looking at Sir Darcy Bennett.

“And that, coupled with what you are about to see, made us keenly aware that you and Mr. Everett had to be onboard the team no matter what, because the finding of the watch in such an ancient sea dictated your involvement in the project. Frankly, General, we couldn’t afford the chance that removing you would change our destiny.”

“Thus the secrecy and the need to know.”

“Precisely.”

The project leader stepped from the tram and turned to the other members of Jack’s staff.

“Our alien friend in Arizona struck on the Overlord plan after we found what you are about to see. He knew the ancient power source of a Martian engine would not be viable after seven hundred million years and knew we had to replace that source. The only thing that could do that, I’m afraid, died with the Martians before the continents separated.”

“The Grays had the answer,” Collins said as he watched the SAS security team advance on the tram and its occupants. “We needed the power plant from the downed saucer at Roswell. When we didn’t have that we had to turn to the two downed ships in Arizona six years ago.” Jack turned and faced the two admirals as they listened, trying to get under their skin as much as possible with the realization that their little secret was never as secret as they were led to believe. “When the damage to them was proven too great to repair and the fact you were having a difficult time reverse-engineering the two power plants, the search for other downed saucers throughout our history commenced. Then one was finally found, in Iran, and thus the small battle of a week ago.”

Sir Darcy smiled and looked at the two admirals, who were shocked that so much information could be delivered by Collins.

“Oops,” Bennett said in mock astonishment. “It looks like the secret is out, and only several thousand people besides the general have more than likely figured it out for themselves.”

“Okay, we were bloody wrong about security. You have made your point, General Collins,” Admiral Huffington said, defeated.

With his staff gathered around him, Jack continued to finish his conclusions.

“Now that the power plant is obviously enroute, you intend to fulfill Senator Lee’s and Mahjtic’s plan. All we need to know is what it is you found that gave our alien ally the slightest hope that we can be saved before the full-scale assault begins.”

Bennett nodded his head at the SAS guards, who turned away from the group and activated the large blast doors to their front.

Jack and the others stepped up as Sir Darcy placed his hands behind his back, and like his boss, Lord Durnsford, did at Schofield Barracks, rocked back and forth on his heels as the doors opened.

“Gentlemen, I give you the answer you have been waiting to hear and the means of defeating the invaders of our world. This is the heart and soul of Operation Overlord.”

The blast doors parted in their double-axis sliding fashion. The men stepped up to the brightly illuminated and enormous excavated cave, and the truth of their combined history was theirs for the viewing.

“My lord!”

Major Sebastian Krell summed it up for the staff of General Jack Collins as the doors opened wide. And even the normally silent Tram started talking in Vietnamese when the sight was finally revealed.

Jack took in the most unbelievable sight ever created by the hand of man—a Martian hand for sure, but a human too, nonetheless. At that moment the real truth of Operation Overlord overwhelmed his thoughts.

The object was so large that it had to have been built by the hands of the ancient gods.

“Gentlemen, I give you Her Majesty’s Ship, Garrison Lee.”