the subs.' Another warning, no doubt. Another threat. 'Pipe it down here, Bear.' 'Yes, sir.'
An audible click on the intercom confirmed a change in lines. A second later, a sturdy voice radioed, '…calling the Excalibur. Acknowledge.'
Jon transmitted, 'This is General Brewer of the Excalibur. Identify yourself.'
The voice on the other end paused for a moment and then said, 'General Brewer? Jon? This is Captain Farway. It's been a while.'
A smile picked at the corners of Jon’s mouth.
'Farway? Captain? What are you doing on a Barracuda? I thought you were attached to the Newport News.'
The friendly voice answered, 'I am. Out here doing a training mission for a bunch of cherries and next thing you know the Secretary of Defense sends me on a goose chase after you. Said you been up to no good, he did.'
When Jon Brewer had traveled to retrieve the runes from the Arctic Circle, Captain Farway-a pre- Armageddon naval veteran-and the Newport News submarine provided a ride.
'I hope none of those newbies are claustrophobic,' Brewer teased in recalling Farway's warning when Jon had ventured onto a sub for the first time in his life.
A soft chuckle in the Captain's voice suggested he remembered the reference.
Jon Brewer went on, 'You're not the first our Defense Secretary has sent our way. We just tangled with a couple of Witiko bastards.'
'I copy that. General, listen, I'm a fair judge of character and after spending far too much time with you under the waves a few years ago, I got the feeling you were a standup guy. If it was just me here…well, I'd be more than happy to find a little elasticity in those orders. But Jon, I've got three boatloads of kids here. I'm not going to let them get caught up in all this.' 'I understand, Captain.' 'So I'm going to follow my orders to the letter. I'm going to keep an eye on you.' Brewer thought it over and finally said, 'Okay then, Captain. Happy to have you along for the ride.' — Woody Ross stood on the platform in the center of the bridge, his eyes moving from display to display, his fingertips issuing orders and commands although far too few crewmembers were onboard to carry out those orders.
One hour after having made contact with the submarines and three hours since disposing of the Witiko attackers, smoke still poured from various wounds across the Excalibur. With so few men onboard, it would take many more hours-maybe days-to stop the bleeding. However, nearly all of the problems were contained, allowing him to turn his attention to more pressing matters.
'Flight two, clear for takeoff,' the brain ordered.
He watched via monitors as another pair of Eagle transports jetted off the stern launching pads, cut through swirls of smoke, and went off in search of that phantom radar trail.
27. Incubation
JB watched the sun slip toward the horizon, sinking as fast as his hopes. A chilling ocean breeze carried sprays of salt water across the boy and his father as they lay on what might be mistaken for a nearly flat island of rocks floating in the middle of the sea.
They had climbed through cramped tunnels and dark corridors, all the while protected by JB's control of the base's systems. Trevor could only stumble a few steps at a time, preferring to crawl like a beast and he never responded directly to the shouts and pleas of his desperate son.
Eventually Jorgie found some kind of service corridor running parallel to an aircraft hangar. There JB witnessed the deranged Missionary stumble into one of the featureless blob-like flyers The Order used for transport. He tried to kill the evil being with the tentacles in the bay that existed to load and unload cargo, but the ship escaped and flew off to the east.
A short time later JB managed to open a thick-skinned hatch and drag his dad to the surface, leaving behind the dungeon-like Hell hole where the mechanisms of the facility continued to rend and kill any remaining followers of Voggoth.
Jorge had not eaten anything since a stale candy bar nearly two days ago. His stomach ached with emptiness. He felt bruises, cuts and scrapes and a nasty cough brewed in his chest. He could only guess his father's condition because his dad had not spoken a word. Even in the open ocean air the man did nothing other than lay on the spongy fake rocks with his eyes sometimes open, sometimes closed.
So they waited. A shivering little boy in shorts and his nearly comatose father.
Jorgie thought he heard something above the constant lap and splash of waves surrounding the half-mile circumference of the phony island. He had just begun to fear that his ears had succumbed to fantasy when a shadow appeared to the west.
He saw it…pushing aside clouds the same way a boat pushes aside waves. A massive thing seemingly too large to fly moving toward him even as the last rays of sun slipped below the horizon.
– 'Well what is it?' Nina, standing with Jon Brewer in the corridor outside the VIP stateroom, asked.
'It looks like an island of, well, rocks,' he answered. 'I guess it's really some kind of base. Sonar shows it's like an iceberg; a lot more under the surface than on top, just sort of floating in the same place. They grew it, I think. Same way they grow all their war machines.'
'And it's just out here, in the middle of nowhere?'
'In the middle of nowhere, yeah. We caught some luck when one of our Eagles saw a radar blip. Ashley's son says that blip was the head bad guy making a getaway in one of The Order's chariot ships.'
'Does this island have any defenses?'
'Nothing we've seen yet,' Jon answered and while he usually would not take well to being grilled by a subordinate, he felt that in this case, Nina had earned some leeway.
'Do you want me to lead a strike team down there?'
Jon realized this was a momentous moment for Nina Forest. She had spent weeks on a secret mission for Ashley, starting first with investigating the assassination, discovering Godfrey’s involvement, finding a dead body that was not a body at all, bringing to light a conspiracy that involved Trevor’s best friend, and then-the biggest shock of all-to find that instead of being assassinated, Trevor Stone had been kidnapped by The Order.
While Trevor’s current condition might be as good as dead anyhow, Nina had not let Internal Security, The Order’s monsters, or long odds stop her pursuit of answers.
She kept on fighting for him, while I sat in an office and pushed papers.
He told her, 'No. We don't have the personnel onboard to do that. We have to figure out what's wrong with Trevor, first, and then go from there.'
After an Eagle pulled Jorgie and his father from the fake island, Trevor had been wheeled into his quarters on a gurney resembling something akin to a zombie. He breathed, his heart beat, and his eyes opened and closed on occasion, even his fingers and feet twitched every so often. But he did not react to anyone, including his wife and son. It was as if his body was there but his mind had been taken somewhere else.
Jon told Nina, 'You did a great job. He would be proud and we all appreciate what you and Gordon went through. Now I’ve got to see the rest of this through. I don’t know what that will be but,' he nodded at the closed stateroom door, 'it starts in there. Now get some rest.'
She nodded as if accepting his advice but Jon assumed she would likely end up on the shooting range on Deck 7. Whatever the case, Jon turned his attention to the VIP stateroom, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Ashley and JB sat on either side of the bed hovering over Trevor who lay with the blankets pulled to his chin. His eyes remained closed, either asleep or comatose.
Jorge had changed into a sweat shirt and jeans borrowed from Jon's daughter's wardrobe. An empty dinner plate and a half-glass of milk sat on the nightstand. Trails of tears shone on his cheeks, matching similar streaks on his mother's face.
Jon walked in on the middle of a conversation. No, a berating. JB demanded his mother, 'Do something! You're his wife! You have to pull him out of this!'
