BRAINRUSH 02 - The Enemy of My Enemy (33 page)

“Not really,” Doc said. “That’s why we need your help.”

Jake considered his options. He wanted to grab the mini—regardless of the physical risks associated with using it—and return to L.A. in order to help Tony find his family and stop Battista. But he couldn’t leave yet. Not until he downloaded what he knew about the artifact to Doc and his team. In the end, he would need their help to discover a way to launch this alien rocket with an entirely new message:
Mankind is
not
a threat.

He pointed to one of the pictograms that ran along the perimeter of the object’s surface—the one depicting three humanoid figures facing off against a tribe of early man. 

“It began twenty-five thousand years ago…”   

Chapter 58

The mountains of northern Nevada

T
he tractor-trailer rig kicked up a flurry of dust as it pulled off the paved highway and onto the dirt road. The driver slowed, downshifting to maneuver the big truck around the next bend on the narrow road. The barren landscape offered little in the way of trees to shelter the vehicle, but after two more twists in the road, the rolling hills provided cover from the main highway. He pulled to a stop with a hiss of hydraulic brakes and cut the engine.

A blast of hot, dry air embraced him when he exited the air-conditioned cab. The midday sun blazed overhead. He closed his eyes in silent prayer and welcomed the memory it brought of his Afghan village. The hum of the trailer’s generator broke the momentary spell, and he walked the trailer’s sixty-foot length, stopping at a chest-high access panel near its end. He unlocked the panel door, took a quick glance to confirm that the area behind the trailer was clear, and depressed the green
open
button centered in the panel.

There was a metallic click as an interior lock disengaged, followed by the electronic thrum of twin actuators that slowly opened the bottom-hinged door. The ramp completed its arc and settled to the ground. From within the shadows of the cargo space, the twin headlights of a Hazardous Materials Emergency Response Vehicle (HAZMERV) stared out at him.

**

Battista squinted against the sudden daylight that swept in through the descending ramp of the trailer. He turned away from the brightness, swiveling in the HAZMERV’s front passenger seat to study the eight-man team behind him, lined up on the bench seats. Each man was fully encapsulated in a yellow biohazard suit with a self-contained oxygen system. LED lights inside the suits illuminated their hard faces, giving them an otherworldly visage. Battista and Abbas, who was in the driver’s seat, were dressed similarly, though they had not yet donned their masks.

“Frightening, aren’t they?” Abbas said.

“There isn’t a soldier alive who wouldn’t shy away at the sight of them,” Battista agreed.

He keyed the mike on his headset. “You may remove your hoods for now.”

The men complied. Grateful nods followed.

The twenty-six-foot long, bright-yellow HAZMAT vehicle they occupied was a mockup of the emergency response trucks used under the authority of Homeland Security and operated by the military. This USAF version had been carefully outfitted with the appropriate emergency lights, and red and white striped HAZMAT placards and bumper markings that warned of the truck’s grim purpose. The rack of antennas and the top-mounted satellite dish added to its authenticity. It was indistinguishable from the official vehicles currently stationed in the region. A matching fifteen-foot-long, enclosed trailer was hooked to its tail end.

Battista check his watch. It was two p.m. They should get the call any minute. He grinned as he imagined the agony that Bronson should be feeling about now.

Chapter 59

Area 52

“T
heir technology is based on telekinetic propulsion,” Jake said, standing at the lectern. The audience of scientists and techs leaned forward in their seats. Fingers hesitated over laptops and tablets. They were in a meeting room down the hall from the main cavern. In spite of the fact that Jake had been transferring information to them for nearly four hours, there wasn’t a bored expression in the room. Doc sat in the front row with his sleeves rolled up and an unlit pipe jutting from his mouth. Timmy was beside him.

 Jake glanced at the large flat-screen suspended from the ceiling in the front corner of the room. Normally used for video presentations or slide shows, it was currently connected to a camera mounted in the main cavern. The alien artifact shone on the screen. Jake shook his head in dismay and continued his lecture.

“Einstein taught us that every mass has energy, and vice versa,” he said. It felt good to share the extraordinary events and information with men and women who wanted nothing more than to learn—without judgment. “The greater the mass, the greater the energy. And it can be tapped into telekinetically.” 

Pulling the mini from his pocket, he held it on his outstretched palm and focused his thoughts. The tiny pyramid rose and hovered above his hand. There was a collective gasp from the audience. Jake allowed the moment to last until he realized that the effort needed to maintain the hover seemed to increase exponentially with each beat. With a grunt, he released his hold and the mini dropped back into his palm.

Another bad sign, Jake thought. It had been so easy to perform that trick a couple months back. But now, even with the additional energy provided by the proximity of the mini, it was increasingly difficult. He realized his heart rate had suddenly doubled and he remembered the warnings from the doctor.
You have the heart of a ninety-year-old.

Noticing a flash of concern on Doc’s face, Jake pocketed the mini. It was time to wrap things up. He needed to get out of here and help Tony and the others.

“I suspect they discovered a way to mechanically duplicate telekinetic ability,” he said. “That would allow them to tap into the mass and energy of planets and stars, using it to push or pull them in any direction. Sort of like slingshotting their crafts through space. Acceleration would be unlimited.”   

Timmy’s eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s not exactly correct,” he said.

“How’s that?”

“Einstein’s theory of relativity. When an object is pushed in the direction of motion, it gains momentum and energy, but it can’t move faster than the speed of light, no matter how much energy it absorbs. Its momentum and energy continue to increase, but its speed approaches a constant value—the speed of light.”

“Well, I know that, but—”

“That’s how we know they can’t get back here for forty years,” Timmy added.

“What?” It was Jake’s turn to be surprised. “How’d you figure that?” His mind was already ten steps ahead of his mouth. There was only one way to solve that equation.

“Easy, it’s a simple mathematical—”

“I can do the math, Timmy. But not without a destination.”

The confused expressions from Doc, Timmy, and several of the others signaled the answer before Doc voiced it.

“I assumed you knew,” Doc said. “We figured it out in the first week or so. Even though our telescopes weren’t prepped like they are when we’re monitoring a satellite launch, we still caught enough of a glimpse to establish a track. The object was on a direct course for the Gliese Red Dwarf star system and specifically to a planet we call Gliese 581-G. It’s 119 trillion miles from Earth and smack in the center of the habitable zone. It’s just enough distance from the parent star to allow oceans to form without boiling away or freezing, and that means it can sustain life. The track is too exact to dispute. That’s where it’s headed.”

“Here, let me show you,” Timmy interjected. His fingers danced and slid across the surface of his tablet. He rose and showed Jake the screen. It was a simple animation of an object being launched from Earth. It followed a trajectory into deep space and then bounced back to its point of origin. “Forty years, round trip.”

Relief swept over Jake. It was the best news he’d heard in a long time, other than the fact that Francesca carried his child—a child that now would have a chance at a real life. Mankind could make a lot of changes in forty years, if given the right motivation. And the people in this room could help make that happen.

Things were finally turning around—

The stomach cramp hit him like a hammer blow. It felt like something exploded in his colon. His legs gave out and he doubled over onto the floor. There was a sudden expanding pressure and his bowels evacuated with a huge rush of air. The odor was tainted, as if was chemically laced. Jake rocked back and forth from the nauseating agony. He heard startled shouts, cries of pain, and the sound of chairs toppling over. There were several heavy thuds.

Just before passing out, Jake saw Doc, Timmy, and several others sprawled across the floor.

None of them moved.

Chapter 60

Area 52

T
he site was five miles off the main highway at the end of a box canyon. It was a rolling landscape that was scarcely alive, save for the short-rooted tanglers that edged the old mining road bisecting the narrow defile. The last two hundred yards of the road were recently paved, and a gated concrete wall topped with triple strands of concertina wire protected the area within. The wall stretched from one end of the canyon to the other. A newly constructed guard shack stood outside the gate.

Other than the armed USAF military police at the shack, there was no apparent activity around the half-dozen drab structures that stood within the perimeter. Two military transport trucks and an open-air jeep were parked in a small lot. A helicopter was tied down nearby. The paved road disappeared into the face of the canyon, blocked by a forty-foot-wide by twenty-foot-high blast door embedded into the rock.

The magnified scene jiggled as the HAZMERV and its trailer bounced over a rut in the road leading to the gate. Battista lowered the binoculars. “Three guards.” He placed one of Kadir’s plastic breathers over his nose and tightened it in place with the elastic strap. Abbas did the same. The men in the rear were already wearing the devices.

Battista reached for the cylinder affixed to his belt and twisted the valve. The antidote flowed like a gentle breeze across his nostrils and left a metallic taste in his mouth. He donned his hazmat hood and activated the microphone linked to the rest of his team. “Sixty seconds.”

The sound of magazines ramming home told him the men had heard him. Their AK47u submachine guns were small enough to hide on shoulder slings beneath their bulky hazmat suits. Abbas brought the truck to a stop at the front gate.

The men stationed at the gate would either open the massive blast doors, or they would not, Battista thought. Either way, they shall die. He tensed as one of the policemen, armed with an M4 carbine, hurried to the driver’s window. The man looked nervous. Abbas lowered the window and the guard’s eyes widened when he saw that the vehicle’s occupants were in hazmat suits.

Abbas spoke before the guard offered a challenge. His voice was amplified through a small external speaker embedded on the front of his suit. All traces of his Middle Eastern accent had vanished. “What the hell are you doing out in the open without a mask, Sergeant?”

“W…what—”

“Goddamn it. Contamination could leak from the facility at any moment. Hang on!” Abbas turned his back and barked an order into the truck. “Three masks. NOW!” He extended his arm out the door and handed the sergeant a full-face M50 gas mask. “Stow that beret and put this on, soldier.”

“Yes, sir!” The sergeant allowed his M4 to dangle from its harness and donned the mask in record time. At his signal, the two remaining guards hurried over and followed his lead.

“Anyone else above ground?”

The sergeant’s reply was muffled beneath his mask. The voice amplification feature had been disabled in the device. When he realized that Abbas couldn’t hear him, he just shook his head.

Abbas motioned to the remaining two guards as they fumbled with their masks. “Get a move on!” he ordered. “There are people dying in there!”

One of the guards rushed to the shack and started entering data at a console. The other two stepped aside as the gate swung open and a row of columnar barricades disappeared into the ground. Abbas put the truck into gear and moved into the complex. The blast door was directly ahead of them. The massive steel wall split open at its center and swung slowly outward. The tunnel beyond disappeared into the mountain.

At long last, Battista thought. He pressed a small button hidden within the glove of his suit. A signal activated micro devices hidden within the masks given to the guards. It released a brief spray of the same pressurized gas that had been carried in by the American. The effect was instantaneous. The guards collapsed to the ground and remained still. A brief whiff of the compound—another of Kadir’s brilliant creations—was intended to cause a loss of consciousness that lasted twelve hours. The gas would prove deadly if it wasn’t allowed to dissipate.