Apocalypse Unseen. James Axler
for which had been discovered among the artifacts in Redoubt Yankee several years before by the Cerberus rebels. Commtacts featured sensor circuitry incorporating an analog-to-digital voice encoder that was subcutaneously embedded in a subject’s mastoid bone. As well as offering radio communications, the Commtacts could function as translation devices, operating in real time. Once the pintels made contact, transmissions were funneled directly to the user’s auditory canals through the skull casing, vibrating the ear canal to create sound. This functionality also meant that the Commtacts could pick up and enhance any subvocalization made by the user, which meant that it was unnecessary to speak aloud to utilize the communication function. Broadcasts from the unit were relayed through the Keyhole communications satellite to anywhere in the world.
Thanks to the nature of the vibration system used by the Commtact, if a user went completely deaf they would still, in theory, be able to hear normally, in a fashion, courtesy of the Commtact device.
“Where to?” Kane asked as he finished the clip.
“Mat-trans chamber for departure to Libya,” Donald confirmed before signing off.
“Great,” Kane said, delivering the last bullet of his clip into the silhouetted head of one of the targets.
* * *
CAT ALPHA ASSEMBLED fifty minutes later in the Cerberus operations room. Kane was joined by his two partners, Grant and Brigid. All three were being outfitted for the operation while Lakesh and Mariah outlined her discovery and what they would be looking for.
“Big hole in the ground,” Kane said, nodding. “I think we’re capable of spotting that. Y’know, if we look real hard.”
Lakesh ignored the man’s sarcasm. “If this sinkhole has disrupted the parallax point, then your arrival may not be possible,” he said. “I suggest you travel prepared.”
Grant shrugged, broad shoulders shifting like an avalanche. “We always travel prepared, Lakesh,” he said. “Just part o’ the job.”
“It may be that the floor has dropped out from under the parallax point itself,” Mariah outlined, “or that the materialization point is surrounded by damaged terrain such that we are unable to investigate further.”
Kane raised an eyebrow. “We, Mariah?”
“Ms. Falk will be joining you, friend Kane,” Lakesh confirmed. “I want an expert on-site in case we only get one chance to look at what’s happened.”
Kane considered bemoaning having to chaperone a civilian, but he said nothing out loud. He liked Mariah; she was trustworthy and dependable, the kind of operative who formed the backbone of the Cerberus team. Instead he said, “We might be better looking on our own for a first visit.”
“As I say, Kane, I want Mariah with you in case this is your only visit,” Lakesh said. “If there’s any sign of danger, I am certain that you will handle it and get her, and your team, out of there.”
Kane nodded. “Yeah.” It was all part of the mission.
Grant checked his Copperhead assault rifle, securing the ammo clip before slipping it into the holster rig under his jacket. “Are you bringing a gun, Mariah?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble like distant thunder.
Falk shook her head.
“Then stay behind us.”
Together, Kane, Grant, Brigid and Mariah entered the mat-trans chamber, outfitted in camo suits to better blend with the terrain they were about to leap into. The interphaser was waiting in the center of the chamber, already powered up and ready to start the jump. Lakesh spoke from the doorway as the field team made their way into the chamber.
“I’ve taken the liberty of tapping several nearby parallax points in case your destination proves disagreeable,” he explained. “They are highlighted on the screen—you just need to select one of these alternates as required and the interphaser will begin its jump cycle.”
“Thanks, Lakesh,” Brigid said, running her eyes across the narrow horizontal strip of screen that was located at the base of the pyramidal unit. “Do you know what we’re jumping into?” she asked.
“The area’s called the Bir Hakeim Oasis,” Lakesh said. “It’s in a desert and was once the site of a strategic stronghold for the Turkish military, and it was the location of a bloody battle during World War II.”
“And what’s there now?” Kane asked.
Lakesh smiled. “You can tell me that, friend Kane, in about two minutes.”
With that, Lakesh left the chamber and Brigid activated the interphaser. A swirling tempest of color blossomed from the interphaser, forming two cones of light with the mat-trans chamber, one above the deck and the other, somehow, beneath it. A moment later, Kane led the way into those impossible depths, stepping into the quantum window and onward to a ruined fort in the Libyan desert.
Kane ducked back behind the pillar, pressing himself and Mariah against it as another jarring scatter of bullets rattled against its edge.
“You okay?” he asked, watching the scene playing out all around them.
“Fine,” Mariah said, her voice high and breathless. “What about you? That bullet—”
“Shadow suit,” Kane said by way of explanation.
Although she didn’t consider herself a field agent, Mariah knew what Kane meant. While Kane might be sporting a bruise for the next few days where the bullet had struck against his arm in a hammer blow, it was a preferable alternative to what would have happened had he not been wearing the miraculous armor weave.
Kane remained tense, watching as the two armies—if indeed it was only two, it was hard to tell—exchanged fire, striking down unfortunate soldiers in sudden spills of red blood. It looked a lot like chaos, but then, in Kane’s experience, when it came down to it most ground wars did. “They’re not moving in unison,” he muttered, making a conscious effort to focus on a specific group—platoon or squadron, maybe?—who were all dressed in similar dirty white robes.
“What?” Mariah asked, confused and feeling woefully out of her depth.
Kane ignored her query, instead engaging his Commtact and hailing his partners, who had taken cover less than twenty feet away. “They’re not moving in unison, have you noticed?” he asked.
Brigid’s voice came back first, the confusion evident. She was crouched on her haunches beside a mangled column of stonework whose top had been sheared through as if bitten away by some gigantic monster, trying to piece the broken interphaser unit back together. “They’re not what?” she asked.
“Moving,” Kane said, “in unison. They’re shooting and they’re kind of moving forward in one direction, but there’s no strategy between the players.”
“Inexperienced, maybe?” Grant asked, chipping in on their shared frequency. He was standing close to Brigid’s hiding place, his shoulder pressed to another of the mangled stone columns, using a scope to watch the turret gun that had been set up on the upper level of the aged fort.
“Inexperienced could be it,” Kane agreed doubtfully, “but usually that brings out two styles of fighting—the gung ho who gets shot the moment he breaks cover and—”
Boom!
A shell struck near the cluster of ruined pillars, kicking up dirt and curtailing Kane’s speech for a moment.
“And?” Brigid prompted, glancing up from her work on the busted interphaser to make sure Kane was okay.
“And the coward,” Kane averred, “who hangs back and lets the others get shot. But I’m not really seeing those patterns, are you?”
“Uh-uh,” Grant