CHAPTER 17
The next morning brought bright sunlight that flooded into the open garage, illuminating Chase, Ogilvey and Gar as they leaned over one arm of the hunkered-down walking machine, or quahka, as Gar called it. Gar was repairing the damage caused by Chase’s mishap. He had opened a box of odd-looking tools and was using one of them to adjust a fitting inside a small hatch on the right forearm, which was overstuffed with the wires and gadgets.
Ogilvey pointed to a shining metal cylinder within the cavity, about a foot long and two inches wide.
“Is that the power pack?” he asked.
“Gah,” Gar replied, snapping the cylinder out of its place and handing it to him.
Ogilvey turned the cylinder over gingerly in his hands. “What’s this called, again?”
“Kekuah,” Gar murmured, concentrating on his adjustments.
Ogilvey handed the cylinder to Chase. “It’s the power source for the laser gun.”
Chase took the cylinder carefully and inspected it for distinguishing features, but there were few. It felt as light as aluminum and seemed like it must be filled with nothing heavier than air. There were pipe fittings at each end and a rectangular hatch in the middle with a small button next to it.
Gar spoke several unintelligible words, which Ogilvey interpreted. “He says, open it.”
Chase pressed the latch-button and the rectangular lid popped up. The chamber inside was filled with fine white powder that glowed with faint magenta light.
Gar gestured at the powder and said a few more words in Kra-naga.
“That’s kekuah,” Ogilvey translated. “Go on and touch it.”
Chase touched the kekuah and then rubbed a bit of the powder between his thumb and index finger. “It feels like fine sand.”
“Oh, it’s not sand,” Ogilvey quipped. “If I understand Gar correctly, that material you are handling is light.”
“Light?” Chase shook his head. He pointed to a streak of sunlight across the garage floor. “That’s light. This stuff is solid.” He sniffed at it. There was no smell.
Ogilvey chuckled. “But it’s light, nonetheless. The Kra mastered light technology 65 million years ago, attaining a stage well beyond what we humans presently know. Their most amazing discovery is kekuah. That whitish-pink powder is pure light, transformed into a solid.”
Gar nodded but Chase remained doubtful. “That’s impossible. Light moves. You can’t stop it. I was awake through part of physics class, anyway.”
“The Kra,” Ogilvey chuckled, “would beg to differ with your physics professor. Light can indeed stop moving and the Kra know how to make it do so. They have a clear technological lead over us, at least in this one area. According to Gar, it all depends on a fairly simple insight that our scientists seem to have missed.
“Nokah, Ogil-vee,” said Gar. “Nohoota-vah tanta Einstein.”
“Oh, yes,” the paleontologist responded. “Gar reminds me about a problem with Einstein’s equation.”
“A problem with E = mc2?”
“Quite.” Ogilvey smiled. “Several of our most cherished scientific tenets seem like nothing more than superstitions to Gar. It’s as if we thought the earth were flat, or that the sun revolves around us. And, being ahead of us in these matters, the Kra find it easy to manipulate light in ways we think impossible. To Gar, it’s not an issue of great genius. It’s just a simple matter of perspective. See here?” he went on, pointing to a place on the concrete floor where the familiar equation had been scrawled in pencil. “I wrote it out for Gar, but he’s corrected it.” Next to Ogilvey’s writing were clusters of pencil-scratchings in an alphabet unfamiliar to Chase.
“These are his revisions,” said Ogilvey, pointing at the scribblings. “He says E = mc2 is a nice beginning, but only holds true if time stands still. If time goes forward, however, then Einstein’s equation is too simple.”
“Hallam zhulanki tolatta,” said Gar.
Ogilvey translated, “Our priest had it wrong.”
“Priest?”
“Yes, referring to Einstein. You see, in Kra-naga, the same word is used for either priest or scientist. The Kra don’t distinguish between the two. Sometimes I think we humans don’t either.”
Chase scowled, unconvinced. “Our scientists have measured the properties of light. They know its speed, the red-shift of the galaxies…”
“Ah yes,” Ogilvey smiled. “The Big Bang theory of the universe. Wrong again, according to Gar. Just another of our primitive superstitions. He claims the universe is not expanding at all. I tried explaining the Big Bang theory to him but he laughed it off. I protested that the red-shift of light from far-away galaxies proves the universe is expanding but his counter-explanation was that light dies.”
“Light dies?”
“Yes, Chase. Light ages as it goes along, just like everything else. Time is again the key. Like we humans, light loses its energy over time. For light, loss of energy means a longer wavelength: a red shift. It gets redder the longer it travels and the amount of reddening depends on how long the light has existed rather than how far it has gone. According to Gar, the galaxies are going nowhere, there is no Big Bang, and no expansion of the universe. He says our priests are wrong on that one.”
“But,” Chase protested, “light can’t just lose its energy. Energy can’t be created or destroyed.”
Ogilvey’s whiskery face split into a wide grin. “Right you are, Chase. But Gar points out that in a multi-dimensional universe, time elapsing at the speed of light equals distance, and time is the thing Einstein neglected. For every photon of light, ‘E’ only equals ‘mc2’ when it is brand-new. As light travels through space its energy is converted into something called eelahkah, which means roughly, ‘time-distance,’ if I’m translating correctly.”
Gar nodded.
“Kra priest-scientists take into consideration not just the interconversion of matter and energy, but also of energy and time and distance as well. To them, each is connected to the other.”
Chase shook his head. “Wolf-reintroduction training didn’t exactly prepare me for this. But what’s it all got to do with kekuah?”
Ogilvey resumed his lecture. “The Kra have found a way to control the time-distance string elements of the photon. In doing so, they control its motion. Once that has been accomplished—and please don’t ask me how—the light particles cluster together into that powder and just sit there, suspended in time and space, until they are sent on their way again. Gar assures me you are looking at pure light energy in a tangible form, right there in your hand.”
Chase closed the lid of the cylinder and handed it back to Gar reverently, but Gar handled it casually. He clunked the cylinder into its slot in the machine’s arm and closed the repair hatch.
“I’m impressed,” said Chase, “although I don’t quite see how it works.”
Ogilvey grinned. “You and me both. But there are disadvantages to kekuah technology. They haven’t yet found a way to miniaturize it. That cylinder is the smallest they can use, which explains why Gar’s tintza rifle is so darned huge and why they’ve no equivalent of a pistol: too much gadgetry required to make the light start moving again. Despite that shortcoming, kekuah is impressive stuff. One of those small cylinders is good for thousands of shots from the laser cannon—”
Gar interrupted with a few cackled words.
“Millions of shots,” Ogilvey corrected himself. “And there are a couple of bigger cylinders inside the fuselage that can power this whole fighting machine for a year or more.”
Chase patted the side of the machine’s shining body. “What I wouldn’t give to own one of these babies. How fast will it go?”
“Gar says it’ll do 38 gokaks,” Ogilvey replied.
“Gokaks?” Chase took off his cap and scratched his head. “How fast is that?”
Ogilvey shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
A snuffling noise behind made them turn. Henrietta was across the drive in front of the barn, n
ibbling at a pile of loose hay thrown down from the loft by Kit, whom Chase spotted standing in the loft doorway. He called a cheery good morning.
“Good morning,” she called back.
He strolled out to watch her feed the parasaurolophus, which ignored him though he was less than twenty feet away. “You’ve got a way with animals, Kit.”
She sat down and hung her legs over the edge of the loft with an amused gleam on her face, tossing down another armload of hay to Henrietta. The duckbill responded by stretching up to place her billed muzzle in Kit’s lap, mildly looking in her eyes. Kit stroked Henrietta’s head and cooed, feeding her bits of hay that she nibbled tamely.
Chase grinned. “How do you like studying dinosaurs up-close-and-personal?”
“Wonderful!” Kit smiled back. Then her expression changed to one of concern. She pointed beyond him. “Look!” she cried. “Oh, my God!”
Chase turn quickly to see an armored tank turn off the county road and come at them at flank speed. It was the first in an entire column of tanks. Henrietta brayed nervously and trotted away to the pasture as the roar of tank engines swelled and clattering metal treads lifted clouds of dust into the air. The lead tank came on with its cannon aimed at the garage, smashing the wreckage of the ranch gate and scattering wooden pieces into the ditch like a collection of toothpicks. It reached the garage so quickly there was no time for anyone to react.
Chase felt tremendously mixed emotions. He was elated to see the equivalent of cavalry coming to their rescue, but an edgy feeling grew as the cannon barrel continued adjusting its aim-point at the inside of the garage where he, Ogilvey and Gar stood. As the immense battle-machine halted, Ogilvey cautioned, “No one make a false move. They must think we’re consorting with the enemy.”
“We are, aren’t we?” said Chase, glancing at Gar, who stood frozen with the expression on his deadpan Kra face unreadable. Did he understand Ogilvey’s advice? Ogilvey, went ashen white, but raised a trembling hand in greeting. Then he raised the other to signify surrender.
The top hatch of the tank opened and a helmeted and goggled soldier half emerged and pointed the tank’s mounted machine gun at Gar. He shouted sternly, “Put your hands up. Nobody has to get hurt.”
“Easy on the trigger,” Ogilvey called, raising his arms higher. Seeing Gar hadn’t understood the order, Ogilvey hissed sidelong, “Hands, Gar, er…tooka, tooka. Get your hands up.”
Suddenly grasping the concept, Gar raised his hands. Chase breathed easier when the tank commander let a hand off the machine gun and waved Ogilvey and Gar forward. “Come out here where I can get a good look at you.”
The three moved out of the garage and onto the driveway with hands high. Chase glanced up at the barn. Kit had disappeared.
The tank man demanded, “Would you civilians like to explain what you’re doing here with the enemy?”
“He’s a friend,” said Ogilvey, keeping his hands up.
The soldier’s jaw dropped as if that was the last thing he expected to hear. He paused to think as the other vehicles rumbled up and halted in line behind him. A Humvee pulled out and stopped beside the tank and a man in Army camouflage fatigues and field helmet jumped out of the passenger side. Drawing a pistol from a brown leather holster, he eyed Gar and spoke to the tank commander.
“All right, Suarez, I’ll take over from here. You just keep ’em covered. If they make a false move, shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Yes sir, Colonel MacIlvain.”
The colonel turned his attention to Gar. “Now, what have we here?” He walked up and leveled his pistol at Gar’s face.
Gar hissed nervously but held his ground.
“You don’t look so invincible up close,” the colonel blustered, moving his aim to Gar’s heart. “I’ll bet you bleed like everybody else.” His eyes glared with intense hostility.
Chase took a step in their direction. “Listen, he’s okay—”
“Okay?” the colonel snapped, pointing his pistol at Chase and stopping him in his tracks. “I think he’s gonna be dead, pretty quick.” He swung the gun to point at Gar’s head again. Apart from the momentary flinch of an eye, Gar held steadfast.
Another vehicle roared up, a squarish Armored Personnel Carrier that pulled in alongside the Humvee. A half-dozen armed troops leaped from the back hatch, spread out and knelt to cover Gar, Ogilvey and Chase with assault rifles. After them came a man with general’s stars on the collar of his fatigues.
“Very good, Mac,” he said to the colonel. “I see we have a prisoner.”
Colonel MacIlvain straightened as the general approached, but didn’t lower his gun from its aim point between Gar’s eyes.
“Prisoner?” he questioned. “Matt, are you sure it’s safe to let him live? He might be more dangerous than he looks.”
“Good point, Mac, but he might be valuable too, if we can interrogate him.”
“Y-yes, he c-can be,” Ogilvey stammered, his raised hands trembling with fright. “P-perhaps you gentlemen would like to join us inside for s-some coffee?” He grinned sheepishly at the general.
The general stared at him for a moment and then laughed ironically, shaking his head. “We’ll be glad to join you inside all right. We’re going to need this house as a base of operations.” He turned and walked toward the kitchen door. “Colonel,” he called behind him, “bring these folks—and that thing—along.”
The soldiers bound Gar’s wrists together with cable handcuffs. Colonel MacIlvain escorted the three of them into the house where a platoon of office staff had already begun setting up a field headquarters. Two young soldiers ran a spool of wire out the back door and into a radio-command vehicle while two more converted the dining room table into a communications center with a radio and video screen set up amid a tangle of wires and gadgets. The general was looking over a map at one end of the table but stopped and came to meet them when they entered the living room. “Hog-tie this fellow,” he said, pointing at Gar. A soldier knelt by Gar with a thin cable to bind his feet.
“Wait!” cried Ogilvey, stepping between the general and Gar. “This is not necessary.”
“It is necessary,” General Davis said emphatically. “I want him right here in the living room where I can keep an eye on him but I can’t allow him to move around. Proceed, corporal.”
“I am sure he will give his word—” Ogilvey began but Davis cut him off with a bitter laugh.
“His word? I’ve seen nothing but death and destruction for four days, and you want me to trust one of these devils? I don’t think so, Mr.—what was your name?”
“Doctor,” said Ogilvey. “Doctor David Ogilvey, Professor of Paleontology at Montana State University.” He extended a hand and the general shook it, nodding politely.
“I’m General Matthew Davis. You’re a dinosaur digger, eh? I’ll bet you’re amused by all this.” Davis gestured toward Gar, who had hunkered down docilely to let himself be bound hand and foot.
“Yes, I must admit—” Ogilvey began, but Davis cut him off again with a wave of his hand.
“Anyway, what’s your connection to this… creature?”
“His name is Gar. He came here to make peace.”
“Peace?” Davis looked dubious.
Colonel MacIlvain leaned against the front doorjamb with his arms folded. “I wouldn’t trust any of them, sir,” he said. “They were working on that fighting machine together when we drove up. In my opinion it’s some sort of collusion. Ask the old man what he gets out of a peace deal. Maybe his own Quisling government?”
Davis put up a hand. “Easy, Mac. Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m willing to listen.” He turned to Ogilvey. “Speak your piece, Doc. I haven’t got much time so be quick about it.”
Ogilvey nodded at Gar, now squatting on the carpet and leaning on one haunch with his hands and feet bound together. “He came to us of his own volition to arrange an armistice.”
“How do you know that?” Davis eyed Ogilvey suspicio
usly.
“Because I’ve been talking with him for two days.”
“Talking with him? Now I’ve heard everything.”
Ogilvey looked dismayed. “Please hear me out. Gar is a leader among the Kra. His job is to make sure the animals they reintroduce don’t become extinct again.”
“Hooray for him,” Davis growled. “What about us? It seems to me humans are the endangered species now.”
“No, no,” Ogilvey pleaded. “Quite the contrary. Gar understands exterminating humans is no more justifiable than the other way around.”
“Did it occur to you that this thing—” Davis pointed at Gar, “—might be here to misinform us, sucker us into giving up?”
“No,” Ogilvey protested. “I’m sure he’s sincere.”
Davis looked from Ogilvey to MacIlvain and back again. “You know, I almost want to believe you’re right Doc, but I can’t take chances. I’ve got to stick with what I’m sure of and that’s our battle plan. We’ll talk peace if it fails.”
Ogilvey frowned. “By then it may be too late.”
Davis sighed, addressing MacIlvain wearily. “Put these people under guard too. Keep them upstairs, out of my hair. I’ve got a war to fight.”
MacIlvain drew his pistol and motioned for Chase and Ogilvey to go up the stairs. Chase went to the stairs but Ogilvey lingered in front of Davis. “You’ll regret this choice, General.”
Davis turned away and walked toward the dining room where several of his staff waited. “I may regret it, Doc. That’s the hell of being in command.”
Chase and Ogilvey were put in Will Daniels’ upstairs bedroom with an armed guard outside the open door. Minutes later, Colonel MacIlvain reappeared with Kit.
“I was hoping you got away,” Chase said after MacIlvain left her with them.
She shrugged. “Where was I supposed to go?”
He shrugged back.
Two overstuffed chairs faced the bedroom windows with a view over most of the ranch. Kit took one seat and Ogilvey took the other. Chase burned off some nervous energy by pacing the Persian carpet runner beside the big four-poster bed, while a young soldier outside the door cradled an assault rifle in his arms and eyed him cautiously. The three captives had a good view of the barn and pasture, around which soldiers swarmed like ants, throwing up a redoubt of sandbags along the equestrian fences connecting the house with its outbuildings and caching supplies in the barn. Directly below, tanks and armored vehicles lined the driveway. The noise of diesel engines and shouted commands filled the hot afternoon air. Dust drifted in a light breeze.
Chase watched the rush of men and equipment. “Do you think they can drive the Kra out from under Sandstone Mountain?”
Ogilvey shook his head slowly. “I don’t see how. You saw for yourself how extensive their tunnel network is. Gar says they’re constructing a whole series of new underground fortifications.”
“But look at all these tanks and guns,” said Chase. “That’s a lot of firepower.”
Ogilvey observed the scene below with a look of intense displeasure. “I think this is the utmost folly.”
“It may be,” a voice interrupted from the hallway. General Davis came into the room accompanied by two helmeted soldiers who stopped on either side of the doorway. He went to the window and looked up at Sandstone Mountain. “What can you tell me about that mountain, Doctor? I understand you’ve done some digging up there.”
“Scientific excavations,” Ogilvey muttered.
“Okay, excavations,” Davis said patiently. “I’m not interested in your work so much as what you know about the enemy. I’m going to risk a lot of brave men’s lives. I need information.”
Ogilvey sighed. “What do you need to know?”
“Are there any approaches to the mountain other than this road going up the hill?”
“Yes,” Ogilvey mumbled. “There’s a horse trail leading to an entrance under the cliff on this side.”
“Any other routes?”
“No, it’s all wilderness up there, and roadless.”
“That may be good,” Davis mused. “If they have no withdrawal route, we may be able to trap them.”
“Or vice versa,” Chase suggested.
“Son!” Davis snapped. “What is your military rating?”
“I—” Chase stammered, “I don’t have one.”
“Then keep your mouth shut.”
Chase almost replied, but thought better of it.
Davis turned to the two soldiers at the door. “Suarez, Abercromby, I’m going to ask you to divide your force.”
“But sir—” Suarez began.
Davis held up a hand. “Here’s the way I see it, Captain. We have the element of surprise. Given the lay of the land, I think a concerted attack at both the front and rear entries could work, so long as we retain the element of surprise.”
Suarez and Abercromby looked at each other like they didn’t think so.
“I want a penetrating attack directed at both entrances,” said Davis. “Sergeant Abercromby, you’ll take a small force up the horse trail and send two platoons of infiltrating ground troops into the tunnels. Captain Suarez, you’ll take the rest of your command and work your way beyond the mountain to attack the main entrances. I’ll coordinate your movements from this house. When both forces are in position I’ll give the order to begin the assaults simultaneously.”
“Yes, sir,” said Suarez. “But I don’t like dividing Fox Troop.”
Davis looked sympathetic but resolute. “I don’t like it either but our options are limited. We’ve gotta play the cards dealt us.”
Suarez hesitated only an instant, and then snapped a salute.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” said Davis, turning without further words to go back downstairs. Suarez and Abercromby followed.
“I don’t like this business,” Ogilvey muttered. “Win or lose, there’s something lost.”
“How do you mean?” Chase asked.
“If Gar arranges a truce, then nobody need be the loser. But how do I get Davis to stop fighting and start talking?” He took a step toward the door but the first guard was back in place. The young soldier took a wide-legged stance and half raised his M‑16.
“No farther, sir.”
Ogilvey began a long-winded protest but Chase turned away, sensing it was pointless. Kit stood at the window, staring up at Sandstone Mountain with her arms wrapped around herself. He went to her and asked, “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice frail. “Too much has happened too fast. I wish Daddy were here. I feel like I should be protecting the ranch. Just look what they’re doing.”
Soldiers in the garden were digging up the soil to fill sandbags. They had trampled most of the flowers while building a machine-gun nest. Chase looked sidelong at Kit and saw tears rimming her eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll have your work cut out for you, fixing this place up after things get back to normal.”
She shook her head. “They’ll never get back to normal.”
“I’ll stick around and help you, if we get out of this okay.”
She put a hand on his. “Thanks,” she murmured. “That would be nice.”
A parasaurolophus call rattled the room. “What’s Rufus up to now?” Kit wondered, but it was easy to see he was heading for trouble. He had approached the barn and encountered a tank and a Bradley troop transport parked too near the hayloft for his liking. Now he had gone into his angry goose act, looking like he was about to charge.
Ogilvey muttered, “Rufus doesn’t like soldiers any more than I do.”
The big animal strutted forward, honking and hissing at the nearest tank in a threat display that was both comical, given the angry-goose posture, and awe-inspiring, considering Rufus’s elephantine size.
Kit gasped when the tank turret rotated to point its gun at him. “Rufus thinks they’re invading his territory,” she fumed. “What are they going to do?”
&
nbsp; “This doesn’t look good,” Ogilvey remarked.
The parasaurolophus feigned a charge, stopping only feet from the cannon barrel with his front feet flailing the air.
“I’ve seen enough!” Kit cried. She rushed out the door before the guard could react and bolted down the stairs.
“Halt!” the guard called after her, ineffectually. “Stop where you are.” Kit was already halfway down to the living room. The guard followed, with Chase and Ogilvey in close pursuit.