Jaunt (2 page)

De Lis nodded to Waters. The DARPA doctor explained, “At first, the DoD believed it was indeed a lost bomber, due to the configuration of the crater and its blast patterns. But, the residual nuclei decay just don’t match predicted levels for that kind of accident, especially for an atomic reactor. The physical, however, is a different story—the crater is two hundred years old.”

Gilmour’s and Mason’s jaws dropped. Both agents looked straight into the crater.

“How could it have escaped detection so long?” Gilmour asked, his eyes plainly discerning the crater’s definition without the embellishing outline.

“The technology simply wasn’t sophisticated enough until now. And to be honest,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “no one bothered to look. The CAC hasn’t exactly been on anyone’s watch list for some time.”

Gilmour looked over to de Lis. “Do you believe it to be a threat?”

“Causing as much damage as it did, and by virtue of its perceived age, yes. Right now, with affairs being as they are, we need to find out exactly what it is, how it happened, and most importantly,” de Lis added, “keep it out of Confederation hands.”

“And that leads to us,” Gilmour said.

“Exactly. Our mission is to travel to the crash site in Chinese-occupied Nepal and ascertain its contents, integrity and origin, if at all possible.”

“At all costs,” Mason presumed.

“At all costs,” de Lis confirmed. “Everyone here is expendable if the greater mission requires it. I believe you know that, Agents?”

Regrettably, Gilmour and Mason did indeed.

The spine of the world silhouetted the Milky Way, the dark majesty of the Himalayas ahead of them capturing the collective gazes of Gilmour and Mason as they rode the C-255

Grasshopper “jumpjet” through a pack of cirrus clouds. The hybrid delta-wing/helicopter’s engines soon switched off, leaving the vertical takeoff and landing craft to glide for several moments as glistening, snow-peaked summits rotated below.

“Prepare for descent,” the pilot’s muffled voice said. “Engage seat restraints.”

Gilmour secured himself, taking a second to sneak a glance out the circular starboard window. “Prettier all the way up here. Sometimes wish I could stay in flight forever.”

“Eh, you’d get bored before too long,” Mason commented. “I know how you are...the adventure sounds great now, but you’d miss saving the world with me.”

“These days I’m not so sure about it. Can’t the world stop for a little while, maybe just long enough to enjoy what’s out there, sample a little of what life’s like?”

“Do people really know what life’s like, outside of their internal universe?” Mason asked, laughing. “Most of the modern world doesn’t have the luxury of globetrotting like us. Too bad it doesn’t pay better, or get women easier.” Mason reclined and folded his hands behind his head. “Oh, well, my philosophy’s always been to live it up while you can, ‘cause tomorrow, it could all be taken away. Keep it in mind.”

The overhead and running lights in the jumpjet’s corridor darkened as the mainland appeared below from a curtain of altocumulus clouds. In a matter of about fifteen minutes, the jumpjet had descended a height of eleven kilometers. Seconds passed until the jumpjet trembled, its rear engines roaring to life again. The agents’ bones rattled as the twin ramjets’ horsepower coursed through the craft, pitching them towards the Earth once more.

A riverbed snaked a groove into the mountains, soon splitting the rocky shield into a narrow valley. The jumpjet’s VTOL engines rolled them gently into the mountain pass, following the winding valley like a weary bird migrating home, welcomed by the patches of scrub grass sprinkled amongst the riverbed's upper reaches.

Within the hour, the jumpjet had arrived at the landing zone, its vertical descent dropping them amidst an open scrub plain. Gilmour and Mason waited for the “All clear”

from the pilot, then unstrapped themselves and headed to the craft’s cockpit. De Lis propped open the jumpjet’s forward starboard hatch, which extended a short stepladder down to a dry riverbed. Valagua, packed with several briefcases and a rucksack, stepped out next, followed by Waters, who stowed only a minor arrangement of baggage. Gilmour and Mason brought up the rear, toting their own hastily assembled rucksacks from Washington.

The jumpjet had been parked a good distance away, presumably to preserve the site’s integrity for the next day’s expedition. De Lis retrieved a holobook, which had been equipped with a crude map of the location, and gestured to the team to follow him. They came upon a bend in the riverbed, where their eyes were soon flooded with light; ten meters away, several tents equipped with portable lights and generators stood, awaiting their arrival.

To his left, Mason’s eye caught a glint on the rock floor. Walking past, he dismissed the glint before rethinking and reversing his steps. His curiosity piqued, Mason scooped up the object and dropped it in his jacket pocket before rejoining the group. Two small men emerged from the first tent and approached de Lis, who shook the hand of one dressed in a seemingly uncomfortable three-piece suit. “Secretary Buhranda, good to finally meet you.”

Buhranda, the local representative of the Central Asian Conglomerates’ Chinese contingent, cracked a toothy, smarmy smile. He ran his hands through his tousled, jet-black hair. “Your flight was good, Doctor?” he asked in clipped English.

“A little bumpy. But we’re glad to finally be here.”

Buhranda sized up the other Americans. “I...suppose you are exhausted. Please, come inside. You can refresh before we have business tomorrow.”

De Lis nodded again. “Thank you.” He turned to the group and stepped back, allowing all four to proceed ahead of him.

Buhranda’s apparent major-domo, fitted with climate-appropriate woolen jacket, khakis and boots, took the lead, showing them to the temporary domiciles. Waters and Valagua were first inside, having been assigned the left end of this particular tent. The major-domo then turned to Gilmour and Mason, and gesturing with the flick of an index finger, assigned them the right section. Handing Gilmour a small lamp, the major-domo grunted, proclaiming this small pocket Gilmour’s and Mason’s area. He then exited, stalking past the two doctors.

Gilmour lit the lamp and set it into a corner. Placing his rucksack next to it, he said,

“Charming.”

Mason glared at Waters and Valagua across the way. Throughout the flight, neither Waters nor Valagua had so much as uttered a syllable to the two agents. They continued that trend by huddling close on the opposite side of the tent, speaking their scientific jargon while emptying scientific equipment out of their bags.

“So, are we on a separate mission, or are they just very quiet?” Mason whispered. Gilmour stood mute, not knowing what to think. Their chilly reception threw him quite off guard; he half-expected de Lis to change his mind and send them back home. They would appear to be just as useful there as here.

“Well, how about a little science experiment of our own?”

Gilmour furrowed his brow. “What?”

Grinning, Mason produced the glinting object from inside his jacket pocket. “Found something to play with.”

Gilmour drew closer, picking the stone out of his partner’s hand, which he held to the warm lamp light. “This from the LZ?”

Mason nodded. “It’s much different than the floor here. Take a look at the scoring. Maybe subjected to intense, incredible heat and pressure.”

The stone was encrusted with pitted and cracked silicates, but a discerning eye turned up another, clearer material at its core, which was amazingly lightweight.

“This isn’t at all like the meteorites I’ve ever seen,” Gilmour said. “All the ones you see are always grainy, rough, or metallic. This looks like there’s a gem inside.”

“That was my first thought as well. I’m not a geologist, but a good detective doesn’t have to be. This is definitely in the realm of the exotic.” Mason’s mind went wild, imagining all sorts of strange and otherworldly explanations; but none seemed to be explanation enough to him.

Gilmour balled the stone in his hand, making a fist, then smiled. “I can’t get over how light it is.”

Mason caught his partner’s convivial mood. “What?”

“I just felt like a kid again, almost like I was reliving a memory...to when my old man and I would go rock hunting.” Gilmour placed the stone back in Mason’s open palm. “Hadn’t thought about that in a long time.”

Morning came with a sudden pull of the cloth tent divider. De Lis crouched beneath the tent’s short canopy and informed the two agents their mission was set to begin. After a quick sponge wash to their faces, the two agents changed into hiking gear and exited the domicile.

Waters and Valagua had not been roused much earlier, and were equally drowsy. Mason felt a sense of victory, since they, too, must have stayed awake a good portion of last evening discussing the mission.

Now in the new daylight, Gilmour and Mason could fully comprehend the extent of the valley. It stretched on for kilometers to the northwest, before finally disappearing from view behind another wall of pale mountains. Their camp was set off to the foot of a smaller mountain face, just a bit taller than an ordinary hill. Surrounding them like a crown, however, was the more massive mountain chain, standing firm one to two kilometers in height, by far the most impressive summits they had seen.

De Lis returned from a brief meeting with Buhranda, toting his holobook. The secretary then entered his private tent and quickly expelled what Gilmour and Mason determined was a Sherpa guide. The guide slowly made his way behind de Lis, catching up to him only as de Lis paused to brief the group.

“According to the data given to me by the Chinese occupational government, the main crash site is located—” he pointed his index finger to the northeast, “approximately four hundred and forty-three meters from here. Shajda, our guide, will lead the way. Stacia, is your equipment ready?”

“Yeah. We prepared everything on the flight.”

“Excellent. Agents, how are your hiking legs?”

Gilmour traced the peaks with his eyes. “We’re in pretty good shape even though we don’t have those,” he pointed to the mountains, “in Washington.”

The doctor chuckled. “I’ll make sure we check up on you every so often.” De Lis tightened his rucksack over his shoulders. “Let’s go. Shajda....”

Shajda nodded methodically, giving all appearances that this was just another ordinary day. He gathered his pack over his shoulders to begin the long journey.

The sun climbed its ladder in the sky, burning off the vapor in the valley. As the group walked in single file, Mason brought up the rear, allowing him ample opportunity to closely study the gravel floor. From his limited experience, the valley appeared to have flooded several times within the last two centuries, obscuring any overt traces of the crash. His strange rock must have been a complete fluke, because no other stones glinted in the sun the way that one did.

Shajda blazed a trail, stopping only long enough for the team to do cursory research at de Lis’ urging. Gilmour noticed Shajda’s misgivings, but the Sherpa said nothing; he was doing what he was compensated to do.

Mason stood next to Gilmour, both men taking great interest in Waters’ and de Lis’

quick study. Waters unpacked a selection of clear sample bags large enough to hold several kilograms of specimens. Both then collected various stones and other candidate debris from over nine square meters of area before de Lis halted their progress to resume the journey. Gilmour detected a surprising hint of exasperation from Waters, which evaporated when she saw the two agents watching her.

Shajda wasted no time in directing the team to a mountain face ahead of them, tempting the Westerners to believe that the trail had come to an end. Drawing the team closer, Shajda’s trek revealed a fissure deep within the mountain, creating another, narrower trail.

De Lis consulted his holobook, not recalling this particular trail. “Shajda, halt. Where are we? This isn’t here,” he said, pointing to the cartograph.

Shajda confidently shook his head, agreeing with the doctor. “More.”

“More? No, take us to the site.”

Shajda gave a toothless smile. “More...follow.”

There wasn’t time for this,
de Lis thought. “Shajda, halt.”

Shajda paused, turning his head around.

“Good. Now, take us to the site.”

“Site, yes. Follow, now.” With that, he started again.

De Lis thought about abandoning the Sherpa, but knew the guide was too important to the mission, let alone to the group. Without him, it was doubtful they’d ever find the crash site or their way back again, at least within the short time they had available. Resigned to that fact, he followed the Sherpa down to the fissure.

The fissure-created path was damp, dark and stale. Repeatedly, the forward members of the team pulled the trailing members through, resulting in scratches and scrapes. Once daylight reigned again, de Lis and Waters played medic to Valagua, Gilmour, Mason and themselves. Only Shajda remained unscathed; apparently, he had done this many times in the past.

After de Lis was satisfied that the team had been thoroughly patched up, he turned his attention to the Sherpa. Thanks to him, the team was not only deviating from their time-constrained mission, but cut up.