Chapter 31: Big Eagle’s Eggs

The old Russian scanned the latest report from his spies on the Interdictor, then settled back into his heavy chair and stared blankly at the far office wall for a few moments, his fingers steepled under his chin. He considered his years of experience dealing with enemies, beginning with the savagely brilliant tactical commanders of the German army. He fought them in his youth when Hitler’s armies attacked; his homeland erupted in flames and his friends and family were buried in bloody rubble.

It would be a serious mistake to attribute rational behavior to the insane American who orders these assaults against our visitors. The man is possessed by paranoia and madness, so think, Viktor, think! What would be the most insane thing he could order, once the news of this failure reaches him?

“Unbelievable!” he whispered aloud to his surroundings. “Absolutely unbelievable that an entire task group of men, machines and weapons could be brushed aside like sweeping ants off a picnic blanket ... without harming a single ant! Viktor, you imagine that in all your years you have acquired some wisdom—but never would it be possible to possess such power, such technology, and never allow yourself to take the life of an attacker.”

No, never if you lived a thousand years, ten thousand years! He resumed his silent introspection. They were right to warn me, and they will warn the world of humanity. We are not—nor will we be for a long, long time—ready to possess such power. We would surely misuse it!

Now he knew! He reached for his telephone, keyed in several sequences of numbers, and when he heard the answering voice, he spoke softly in a half-choked voice:

“Pietor, the American madman! He will drop bombs. If he cannot capture the alien ship, he will try destroy it with deep-penetrating bombs. You must warn Mr. Jameson and the Senator. They must act immediately to prevent this!”

Viktor replaced the handset in its desk cradle. He was worried by his estimate of the madman’s probable action. He had no doubt the aliens could erase bombers from the sky as easily as he could swat a fly out of the air. But that would kill the human crews. He doubted they would do that.

What an insane irony! he sighed in sorrow. We would unleash our inhuman lust for killing against their absolute regard for human life, to destroy them!

The President’s administration, outside of himself, his national security advisor, his chief of staff, and the agency director, had no clue about what happened in Marie Byrd Land. When the Director threatened the chief of staff with death should any word of the alien invasion leak following his briefing, that pretty effectively stopped the leaks.

And the briefing so panicked the President that the Director achieved his purpose: the President ordered the chief of staff and the national security advisor to ensure the Director had everything needed to neutralize the threat, and to maintain secrecy. Word of aliens would panic the population. Nationwide panic could bring down him, his administration, and his political party.

The Director called Air Force General LeRoy Masterson at the Pentagon.

“General, we have an action request. My people are faxing the details to your office. Please destroy it after you make whatever notes you require. Any leak of that message would be considered a most grave violation of national security protocols. Please inform your staff accordingly. Call me when you have arranged for action on this request, General.”

The Director’s secure telephone rang no more than five minutes later:

“Are you insane?” the voice screamed from his receiver. Sandy in the outer office could hear the shouting; she rose from her chair and closed the door to the Director’s office.

“No, General, I assure you that I am not insane. Do you dispute my request?”

“No, I do not dispute your request. I refuse your request! This is insanity! Are you not aware that a binding international treaty signed by every responsible nation forbids such an action? Are you aware of the consequences if we do this thing? The President would have both of us in Leavenworth for even thinking of performing an insane strike like this!” the General shouted into the telephone.

The Director waited until the General paused for breath.

“General, I have authorization from the highest level. Must I report that you refuse this request unless it is confirmed by the highest authority?”

“You can damn well bet on that! If you think I will order the military forces of the United States to engage in such a reckless, illogical, unlawful action as dropping deep-penetrating bombs into an internationally-protected area of the globe, you’re insane!

“Director, if you think you can, then you’d better have the highest level call me directly.”

“Can you imagine, Barnes?” the President said to his chief of staff sitting in the Oval Office. “General Masterson actually called me, his Commander in Chief, insane and criminally reckless!”

Barnes nodded silently, very carefully wearing his Saturday night poker face, the face so devoid of any emotion that his friends jokingly called it his thousand-dollar face.

“No, Mr. President. I expect that has never happened before, not in recent memory, at least.”

“Well, there’s nothing for it but to relieve him of command. Issue the order immediately. And Barnes? This is a highest-priority national security order, and all of the Patriot Act protocols, as interpreted by our legal staff will apply in this instance ... there’s to be no paper, no record, no word to anyone. Simply have the General relieved by verbal order of the President. Have it done privately at his home, out of public view. And let’s be sure we put him out of sight for awhile; it would be unfortunate if he made wild accusations in public.

“Notify me when the General is in custody. I’ll call his second-in-command and order the strike. There will be no doubt of its execution at the earliest moment. I suppose I should have done that to begin with. Might have saved myself the embarrassment of disposing of a three-star general.”

Barnes’s poker face nearly broke but he caught himself. It was devastatingly apparent that the President claimed power under his interpretation of the Patriot Act that the Constitution never allowed.

He’ll be declaring martial law and suspending the legislative and judicial branches, Barnes shuddered as he hustled from the Oval Office. He wondered who in hell he could trust to carry out this order!

The SeaVire ships made good speed away from Antarctica. It took little time to airlift the men from Siple Island and to retrieve the boats and listening teams scattered along the ice shelf. When all were aboard, the ships left station.

Werner Schmidt informed the Director that SeaVire Services would refuse any further action under their contract. He also advised the Director that legal or covert actions against his firm would be most inadvisable. He wished to put a quick end to a bad situation. His ships and men were withdrawing immediately.

“Mr. Director, I expect that our invoices for services rendered will be honored without delay. Your office has them. And sir? Please do not call us again.”

Damned good riddance, you German autocrat, the Director thought to himself as he put the receiver down. Incompetent bastards ... I wonder if he would be so smug if the world knew how a bunch of penguins handed his men their asses out there on the ice!

“Sandy, those invoices from SeaVire?”

“Yes, boss?” she replied.

“See that they get settled today, out of the slush fund. The one for director contingencies?“

“Sure, boss. Before quitting time,” she answered.

I haven’t had a raise in three years, thanks to those self-serving, budget-pinching bastards in Congress, and this asshole just threw $73 million dollars and loose change into the crapper! Asshole! she mumbled to herself, in her silent thoughts.

The days got longer. The abandoned machines of the SeaVire expedition threw slightly shorter shadows when the sun rose a little higher in the northern sky during the mid-day zenith. Each day when the planet rotated to expose Siple Island to the distant galaxy, the Masi’shen communications technicians dropped their energy shields to listen for a signal from home.

There was little transmission delay between galaxies. Their signaling technology had no light-speed limit. Thus it was that on the day after the SeaVire forces departed, a message was heard by the crippled Masi’shen ship. The crew rejoiced! They had been lost for so long, buried under the ice, stranded on the loneliest of earth’s continents. The message was so simple, but so profound: a Masi’shen fleet was on the way!

“Corky, I hope I’m not asking a stupid question, but do we have any sort of shipboard satellite internet connection, or a satellite telephone service? I’ve got a premonition that it would be really useful if we could upload digital photos or a video stream to outside observers,” Mike asked.

“Hmmm ... let me think. We do have satellite service. It’s pretty much an essential part of our contracted towing services. Some of our tows are extremely high-dollar value and the customers like to see for themselves when they want an evaluation or a report on their cargo,” Corky answered. “Actually, let’s not rely on my limited knowledge. Let’s go talk to our radioman and chief systems expert. He’ll have the best answer to your questions.”