Deep Crossing

  We made our third team drop at 05:00 Earth II time. I had enough confidence in Erin’s interpersonal skills to authorize the trade of an ounce of gold for some Earth II money. If that went well, they could hop the trolley to the library and save five miles of walking. Food from a restaurant was also approved. We held on orbit and watched long enough to make sure those dealings worked out.

  Paris had checked the gold exchange price the day before. Gold was going for 25 dinars an ounce. In the pawnshop, Erin’s communication skills seemed to work well. The shop owner offered her 15 for the blank coin. I cringed when Erin demanded 20. The shop owner gave in, though he milled around smirking like someone making too good a deal. Erin instructed him to be sure to include change for the trolley. He asked if she wanted a whole dinar’s worth of tokens. She agreed, and a few minutes later we watched a smiling Paris help her board the trolley.

  Heartened by the success of our first relations, we broke orbit to look for a military base that supposedly did not exist. It was one of those emperor’s-clothes military bases. The military insisted it was not there. The rest of the world seemed to know it was. The place was a sprawling airfield on a wide, flat plateau surrounded by mountains. There were big runways, strangely shaped hangers, and miles of fencing and inroads protected by guard shacks and roving security teams. In the center of the complex one large building commanded many other smaller ones sporting busy aircraft hangers. There was testing of some sort going on. A large six-engine propeller aircraft waited on an apron with a lot of personnel fussing over it. The entire base seemed preoccupied with the operation.

  We dropped to 50,000 feet above a cloudbank and held. Winds were a brisk one hundred and fifteen knots, but the ship managed it comfortably. Our scans did not find anything. We ran Paris’ interior infrared program and mapped out the large building. There did not appear to be anything of interest. RJ rebelled at the idea of forgetting the place and leaving. He insisted nothing was exactly what you were supposed to find at a secret military base. He argued a more personal visit was needed. I countered that it was far too dangerous. To my dismay, he showed me a plan he had already constructed.

  It was a nice plan. He had the frequencies of the base radar. We would descend in broad daylight out of sight, and feed back those same frequencies in such a way as to make ourselves invisible. The Griffin would stay on the ground at idle waiting for us, scanning for long-range bio signs so that a quick getaway could be made. While at the library he had located a private company under contract to do the main building’s janitorial services. Their cleaning truck arrived daily on the outskirts of the base at approximately 2:00P.M. We would hide by the roadside, stall the truck momentarily with a hand scanner, and climb in the back. Once inside, we would borrow cleaning coveralls if there were any, and become janitors with attitude. We would escape the same way we went in. I said the plan was too iffy. RJ insisted it would work. I said it worried me. He said our job was to learn what happened to the Nasebian’s spacecraft and if there was a Nasebian spacecraft the base was where it would be, and did I want to go back and tell the Nasebians we were afraid to check it out. I said, “Oh, damn you.”

  It took less than an hour to set up. RJ finished making clip-on security badges complete with the company logo. He had no idea what they were supposed to look like, but any badge was better than no badge. I spent the time making up mission abort plans in my head for each stage of the idiocy we were about to attempt. I did not like the plan and I liked my abort strategies even less. Shelly lowered us down into the trees as close as she dared. We ended up in bushes on the side of a dusty unpaved road the color of yellow clay, where if you listened carefully enough you could still faintly hear the Griffin at idle. In the distant sky, the big four-engine plane drew a white chem trail. It released some kind of aircraft which flashed across the blue before gliding powerlessly down and out of sight.

  The janitorial truck showed up right on time, but it stalled too slowly and we had to run behind to catch up and climb in. To my relief no one was in the back. I clicked my weapon off stun and held to a strap in the cluttered darkness. The ride was rough and noisy. The truck smelled like every carcinogenic chemical known to man. There were no coveralls to borrow. Our flight suits, badges, and borrowed janitorial accessories would have to do. A long pause at the gate brought friendly voices and laughter. The truck jerked ahead to the clatter of grinding gears. We stopped too quickly. Equipment slid forward and went thud against the floor. RJ quickly peered out the back door. He waved frantically and slipped outside. I tried to keep up.

  We were on the most exposed side of the largest building. The gate we had entered was visible in the distance. One guard looked our way, but paid no attention. The only concealment nearby was an office door twenty feet away. We walked briskly to it with a bucket and broom, and found it unlocked. RJ gambled and charged in. No one was inside. It was someone’s messy office. We closed and locked the door behind us.

  “RJ, I’m now realizing this really was a bad idea.”

  “We’re in, aren’t we?”

  “Oh yeah, we’re in deep.”

  “It’s working perfectly. You’ll see.”

  A paper-cluttered desk in the center of the room boasted a sprung swivel chair that was leaning back too far. A storeroom door behind it was ajar. There was a second door with a glazed window that led into the building. Just at that moment the silhouettes of two people appeared. They were speaking in low tones. RJ and I looked at each other like two kids about to be caught. Bucket and broom in hand, we ducked into the storage room and quietly closed the door. I pulled out my weapon and set it to stun.

  The two voices entered. The conversation became clear. “But it wasn’t too close, right? You were able to back it off under control.”

  “No, it was okay, really. We’ve just got to figure it out.”

  “And you’re sure about the .98?”

  “Yeah, I was pretty much paying attention about then.”

  “This isn’t funny, Vance. Control problems are no joke.”

  “You’re preachin’ to the preacher, Curt. It was my ass.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll go see what the lab guys are doin’ about it. No reschedule until we have something.”

  “We’re close, Curt. Really close.”

  There was the sound of a door opening. “Why don’t you come down to the lab with me? We’ll see what they think.”

  “Okay. You got it.”

  The door shut. We waited. Nothing but silence. When I felt sure the coast was clear I put my weapon away, opened the door, and ran face to face into someone no man should have to meet.

  Myself. It was me in an old-fashioned wrinkled green flight suit. He was a mirror image. He stood there, one foot away, just as shocked. He was missing a scar that I had on my neck. He had another to make up for it near the front. Everything else about him was identical, a perfect twin.

  And it began. He stepped back and raised both hands in defense. I leaned back and half-raised my hands. He grabbed my wrist, planning to twist it around into an open-handed lock, just as I would. I sidestepped alongside him and wrenched my hand free. He countered by trying to wipe a hand over my face to bring me down with a foot behind my legs, just as I would have. I countered by pushing his hand up over my head as it arrived, and spun to face him, bringing a palm heel strike toward his chest. He countered by turning sideways to let the punch sail past, then grabbed the arm and pulled me forward to throw me off balance. I rotated my back to him and used his body to break the pull, then spun to a ready stance. He feigned with the right hand and tried to get me with a left hook. I moved inside and took the forearm from his punch on my right shoulder, then shoved him back into his desk where he reached out to catch himself, wiping everything off the desktop. It crashed to the floor in a heap.

  We both moved away and separated. He narrowed his stare in a look of determination that worried me. He opened his mouth to call for help when RJ, staring wide-eyed through the open
closet door, finally lurched out and yelled, “Gentlemen!”

  The other me looked at RJ and froze. His expression was wide-eyed. “Patrick! What the hell is this? It’s impossible! A twin? Can’t be... You’re too young!” The other me stepped back, placed a hand on the newly cleaned desk for balance, and stared at us. “Who the cruck are you guys? You’ve got ten seconds before I start screaming security.”

  I was still breathing heavy from the exchange and had nothing to offer. RJ held up one hand and spoke in earnest. “Wait. We can explain. But it’ll take more than ten seconds.”

  “Of that I’m sure.”

  “Give us a chance. Can we just calm down a minute? Nobody’s here to fight. We’re not here to do any harm.”

  “Two imposters in a high security research facility? I’m not seeing any good answers.”

  I caught my breath and managed to come up with something stupid. “We’re not from around here.”

  He looked at me with disdain. “Tell me something I don’t know, you idiot.” He repositioned himself an inch closer to the door.

  RJ struggled to maintain the truce. “Thirty minutes in this room. That’s all we need and you’ll understand.”

  “You keep telling me nothing. Your ten seconds were up a while ago.”

  “There’s a good explanation for all this. Just give me a second.”

  “Somebody disguised to look like me? It’s too late, you guys. You’ve screwed up the plan. Give it up.” He straightened up and took another inch toward the door.

  “No, no. It’s not like that. We’re the good guys. Just give me a chance to explain,” insisted RJ.

  “Boy, I’d like to hear that myself,” I said.

  RJ snapped, “You’re not helping.”

  “I know what this is, guys. You’re part of the People’s Revolutionary Army. You're trying to infiltrate this base disguised as me and my best friend. You screwed up, though. Patrick Manning died five years ago. Where’d you get your intel? Your plan was blown before you started. There’s no way you’ll get off this base. Time to turn yourselves in before somebody gets hurt,” he said, trying to slide another casual inch in the direction of the door.

  RJ persisted. “Who died five years ago?”

  “You must know I’ve got to call for security.”

  “Please, don’t do that. If you turn us in, it’ll be messy. What we need is your help.”

  He hesitated. “You think I’m going to collaborate with you? Man, your Intel really is messed up.”

  It was then I noticed the weapon in RJ’s hand. The other me noticed it, as well.

  “What is that?”

  “I’m sorry we’ve put you in this situation. Please believe me, no matter what happens, you won’t be harmed.” I said.

  “And you… I know I don’t trust you. Just let me step outside for a moment, that’s all. If you’re really the good guys, everything will turn out okay. Okay?”

  “You should also know that when we’re done, nothing bad will have happened here, and there will be no trace of us,” I said in a brief moment of insight.

  “Look, I’m not the secret agent type. You guys have got to turn yourselves in. Otherwise, there could be shooting and blood and all kinds of unpleasant stuff. Get it?”

  “I’m sorry. We just can’t allow you to turn us in,” I said.

  “I’m just going to slowly open this door and bring back someone you can talk to. No need for anyone to get hurt, okay?”

  RJ’s voice became solemn. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Just take it easy now. Everything will be fine.” He began slow, incremental moves toward the door. After seeing RJ’s weapon, he had been playing us for time, just as I would have. Out of the corner of my eye I could see RJ’s hand shaking a bit holding the weapon. I could also see that the other me had noticed that. The other me was wondering if he could make the door. I was wondering if RJ was fast enough and had it in him, then I remembered the gang leader at Heidi’s.

  RJ did not wait for him to make his move. Dejected, he hung his head sideways, whispered, “God damn it,” and fired a pulse. My duplicate stiffened and fell. I caught him around the shoulders before he hit the floor and lowered him down.

  “Nice shot!”

  “This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”

  “It was stun, right?”

  “Of course the hell it was stun!”

  “Nice shot, really.”

  “This man is your identical twin!”

  “I noticed.”

  “This changes everything.”

  “I’m just glad you shot the right one.”

  “He said he knew me.”

  “He seemed to like you, go figure.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “Would you help me get him up? It’s the least I can do for me.”

  We dragged the other me to the desk and set him in the chair slumped over. We leaned on the desk and caught our breath.

  “Do you think we made too much noise?”

  “No, damn it.”

  “Do I really look that bad asleep?”

  “Worse.”

  “Well, he should be out for twenty or thirty minutes.”

  “You know his clothes would fit you perfectly.”

  “Very funny.”

  “And his identification could be used by you in any good department store.”

  “You want me to put on his clothes and ID and see if I can get into the records department.”

  “What more could we ask for? It’s a perfect plan.”

  “You could have said that before we dragged him over here.”

  “What, do I have to think of everything?”

  We positioned the other me back onto the floor and made the switch. I straightened the unfamiliar green flight suit and stood up straight. “How do I look?”

  “Just like Vance Cameron, at least that’s what his name tag says. Colonel Vance Cameron, to be exact.” RJ clipped the badge to my breast pocket.

  “I shall try to remember who I am at all times.”

  “I, on the other hand, will remain here praying you will be back soon enough that the other you does not wake up and need to be stunned again.”

  “Oh, that’s an ugly thought. And how do we get out of here? Even if we make it, he’s onto us. He’ll wake up, tell the whole world, and they’ll be looking for us at every turn.”

  “One disaster at a time, Kemosabi. Find out if there’s a record of the Nasebian ship anywhere and we’ll make the rest up as we go along.”

  “Well, that puts my mind at ease. You sure you’ll be alright here?”

  “I will lock the door behind you and take no calls.”

  “Keep your com open.”

  “Duh...”

  I slowly opened the door to the hall and checked in both directions. No one around. Trying to appear assured, I walked deliberately out and turned right. RJ clicked the lock behind me. There were closed double doors with windows ahead on my left. I did my best to hurry by, hoping to avoid anyone who might be inside. It did not work. A muffled voice immediately called out, “Colonel Cameron! Wait!” A technician or engineer in a white smock stuck his head out and called. “Colonel, wait. We need you to look at this.”

  There was no avoiding him. I stopped, turned, and waved acknowledgment. As I returned, he became excited. He gestured me into his laboratory where three others in white lab coats were standing at the observation window of a car-sized wind tunnel. I expected them to recognize me as an imposter. They did not.

  “We will hit supersonic on the next try. I promise you that. We can beat the control problem. It’s just buffeting. Look at this. It’s what we think we need.” He spread out a drawing of a rocket plane’s tail section and tapped one finger on the elevator and horizontal stabilizer. “The control loss only occurs during the buffeting just before Mach one. If we increase the elevator parameters, that might do it. We make the lifting surface larger and you get a finer level of control. There wou
ld be structural damage if you overcorrect with this size elevator, but if you’re careful it might be enough to overcome the loss of control.”

  My mind did a back flip. This was a textbook control problem we had all read about during the early days when the sound barrier was being broken. Mach tuck. Just before supersonic, the lift gradient over the tail moves backward because of the buffeting. A guy name Yeager had dealt with the same exact problem.

  I shook my head. “Mach tuck.”

  “What?”

  “Oh sorry. It’s a phrase I sort of coined. Mach tuck. The lift profile is being moved by the buffeting. It’s kind of shock-stalled.”

  “Yeah, so we enlarge the elevator and that spreads the problem out. You keep control.”

  “No. The elevator design is okay. You just need to add trim to the stabilizer section, not the elevator, so it can be adjusted to a new neutral. Fine trim. Add fine trim.”

  He looked astonished. “Trim the horizontal stabilizer? Where did you get that? Trim for the stabilizer… At that speed? It could work. That’s it. It’s what we’ve needed all along. Dampening and control all in one.” He looked at me with the admiration of a rock fan.

  I pointed one thumb over my shoulder. “Records.”

  “Oh, okay. We’ll get on this right now. There won’t be time to tunnel it. I’ll let you know.”

  I waved and escaped out the door, breathing a sigh of relief that they let me go. The green-carpeted hallway led to a waiting room with a white reception desk, typewriters, and filing cabinets. Two receptionists were sorting sheets of paper into a cabinet made of wooden dividers. I dared not slow, hoping to plow on by and ignore them. Once again, it did not work.

  “Colonel Cameron, should I have your car brought around to your office, or will you be working late?” called one of the women.

  In front of me, there were three new corridors to choose from. I paused as though in a hurry. In another rare moment of insight, I turned to her and nodded. “Yes; yes please have it brought around, but I’ll drive myself, though.”

  She looked perplexed. “Yes Sir. I know. You always do.”

  I raised one hand in awkward acknowledgment, pointed down the nearest hallway and stammered “Records…”

  She smiled and pointed at the corridor on my left. “It’s that way, Sir.”

  I slapped myself on my head and turned to go.

  “It must have been a wild test flight this morning,” she said and laughed.

  I smiled, shook my head, and marched on, managing to get past four other closed doors without being stopped. Double doors with safety glass windows at the very end of the hall had a plaque that read, “Blueprint.” Unfortunately, several women were milling about inside. It made me wish I had brought Wilson. I pushed my way in.

  They were busy everywhere with stacks of documents. A longhaired blond with cherry red lipstick stopped working her machine and came over to the counter.

  “Wind tunnel testing?” I asked.

  “We’re really swamped, Colonel. You’ll have to fend for yourself. That would be isle H, on the right. I’m sure you can find it. Please be sure to put everything back in the right spot, please…” She gave me an extra long smile with a wink and returned to her stack.

  I pushed through swinging, waist-high doors and found isle H. It was rows of gray filing cabinets stacked to the ceiling. Ladders on rails provided access to the upper drawers. It didn’t take long to realize I was wasting my time. As inconspicuously as possible, I moved from isle to isle, trying to map the place in my mind. There was an adjoining room with a keypad lock on the door. Like the others, it had a safety glass window. I managed to get good glimpse inside. There was a very serious looking elevator in there with bright red seals on the keypad and a big threatening sign on its cage. The elevator did not go up. It only went down.

  Waving thanks, I left and made it back to Cameron’s office. “RJ, open up.” The lock clicked and the door opened just enough for me to slip in.

  “Someone drove up in a car and knocked on the outside door.”

  “Yeah. It’s our ride out. Did he wake up?”

  “No, but he’s been stirring. What’s the plan?”

  “We put him in the trunk and just drive right out the gate. Then, we hide his car in the woods, load him on the ship and keep him until we’re done here.”

  “We’re not done here?”

  “There’s nothing but routine test data in the main records office, but there’s a classified elevator in an adjoining room. It only goes down. I’m guessing the good stuff is under us. We need to come back after hours.”

  “What if someone is waiting for Colonel Cameron at home?”

  “Don’t be silly. He’s me.”

  “Still…”

  “We’ll check out his place from orbit, see if there’s anyone there. Wanna make any bets? You ready to get out of here?”

  “You do the stunning next time, okay?”

  “Okay. When we get him on the ship we’ll sedate him. He’s too devious to take any chances. I know me.”

  “He’s going to be one pissed off you.”

  “Boy, that’s scary.”

 

  Chapter 38