“Time to roll, little ones!” he exclaimed, communicator in hand.
“Huh? What time is it? Didn't the alarm go off?”
“I turned it off, Frankie.” He put it on his arm. “I thought you could use a few more minutes of sleep.”
“Mmh, yeah okay,” Burton mumbled between yawns. “I don't know if I would have gotten up earlier anyway.”
Cam let out a playful chuckle.
“Take this,” he tossed him a heavy backpack. “It's extra clothes and some food.”
“Oh, is that so? Good,” he replied, barely paying attention.
The three of them trotted toward the Falconer's hangar. Their hair was a mess—they hadn't had time to fix it. However, the excitement of the new day made them forget the detail almost immediately.
Gerard started the Falconer and rolled it to the helipad. The sky above him was still dark, not only because the sun had not yet risen, but also because a few dry, dusty clouds were drifting across the horizon with a gentle puff. Nearly all the stars were obscured, except for a few that still twinkled and refused to be covered.
“Did you get enough rest? I hope you're not mad that we let you oversleep.” He got off the heliplane.
Cam had just arrived with the rest of the squad.
Frances grimaced.
“I would have liked to wake up with you.”
“Comrades, Ponce is on her way,” Cam announced, reading from his PCC. “From the public updates, it's clear she didn't waste the night, so expect a little grumpiness,” he smiled.
With the help of intelligence and an impromptu council, she had already drawn up a plan of action to locate and round up able-bodied soldiers and civilians. The heliport area may have been nearly empty, but near the main runway the story was different: the first scout and cargo ships were already taking off, and the hangars and warehouses were full of people, soldiers and civilian volunteers. In a few hours, the base, and Alamogordo in general, would be home to double or triple the number of people, and the activity would increase accordingly. Cam regretted not being there, but his real concern was what would happen if Alamogordo attracted too much attention.
“I have already considered that and have concluded that we will have to divide our forces at various points in the Cinian territory. The council and I believe that keeping a handful of brigades in the city will not alarm our enemies. Surely, they had already foreseen that we would soon regroup. While they keep their eyes on Alamogordo, the real army corps will prepare with great discretion.”
“Have you contacted the president yet?”
“No. I'll do that as soon as we've worked out all the important details of the plan. Also… I have learned something alarming. I had agents working all night in Kennéh to gather information. It turns out that neither they nor the local Cinian citizens were aware of the takeover of the capital until they were contacted by their relatives. And it seems that the Kennéhsians in general are completely unaware of the event. Do you understand? Either their government is deliberately withholding information from their people, making themselves complicit with the Society, or they really don't know anything. I know that Arthur contacted them several times before the attack to inform them of our situation. If they knew, would they be able to abandon us like this? And for these terrorists!”
Cam and Gerard remained silent and thoughtful.
“Do you think the Kennéhsian government betrayed the truce?” whispered the second.
“I don't know, but I must consider it possible, and then we cannot count on their help. However,” Ponce looked over her shoulder at her companions, “the agents suspect, based on the comments of the citizens I mentioned, and other more discreet sources of information, that there are indeed traitors in the government, but that neither the president nor the high command of his militia are among them.”
“Hell, this is getting too complicated,” Cam shook his head, “are you saying that someone else, someone very powerful, might be hiding our situation from the legitimate government? And what evidence do these sources have to believe that?”
General Ponce stared at him for two seconds before deciding to answer.
“Mostly the observations of the compatriots in Kennéh that we interviewed. And a report from an unknown source who somehow managed to send it directly to my private mailbox with vague evidence supporting this hypothesis.”
“Private mailbox? Then you must know someone who knows the address. How many people know it?”
Ponce shook her head.
“For now, I am inclined to put this source aside. I will maintain my reservations, both about this ‘evidence’ and about Kennéh in general. I plan to meet the president in person, with a military escort. It could be dangerous, but only if the president himself is a traitor; if he is not, it will be the best way to communicate without intermediaries, without the risk of being blocked.”
There's no need for you to go,” Gerard pointed out, his eyebrows furrowed. “You should stay here, safe, where you can keep control.”
Cam raised an eyebrow.
“It is not, Gerard. But it would be the most diplomatic thing to do in this situation: for the leaders to meet as equals. A message does not seem sufficient to me to ask for something as significant as their participation in this war…
“And if she is captured, who will be in charge?” he exclaimed with uncharacteristic urgency.
“I will decide that” Ponce interrupted, firm and confident. “Lieutenant Wilker, I understand your position, but I agree with your captain. I have already formed a council capable of handling operations in case I am indisposed.”
Gerard could not agree with this decision, that she would risk herself and lo leave Cinia without a head again, he didn't think it was right. But Cam agreed, he who understood more the subtleties of honor than the common sense of personal safety.
Ponce watched Burton and Frances waiting outside the Falconer.
“That's all: do what you must.”
The general turned and walked away with her escort toward the Command Center.
Cam and Gerard walked back at a leisurely pace, exchanging a comment or two about the Kennéh affair. But that uncertainty, they agreed, should not dampen their resolve to get on with their own task.
All aboard, Burton stowed the pack and restarted the engine.
The Falconer soared over the runway, and gradually the wind harmonized with the ship's progress, until only the whisper of the current gliding along the outside of the heliplane could be heard.
The coordinates were in place, and Burton was more than ready to check every detail. Since it would be eight hours, Gerard would take turns with him. It wasn't his primary skill, but it was enough to be a good backup pilot.
As they arranged their food in a small cooler on the right side of the Falconer, the sky cleared, with hardly a cloud in sight.
“Too bad there was no coffee. I could use some right now,” Burton lamented with a giggle.
“We have more sodas. And these have some caffeine in them,” Frances threw a can at him. It almost bounced off his head.
“Hey! Careful. You'll damage my controls. What are we gonna do? We crash terribly, that's what we do.”
She laughed with teasing mischief.
“I thought we were on autopilot.”
“But there are some details! Watch out for GPS glitches and stuff like that. Remember, the autopilot is a tool for the pilot, not a replacement!”
“In most routine applications that's been a lie for almost forty years, and you know it,” she laughed.
Frankie, machines have their limits. We are the safety protocol for the unexpected!
“Hey, only Cam can call me that.” She threw a crumpled napkin in his face.
Cam was quiet but entertained by the chatter of his soldiers. He glanced at the monitor closest to him, there he saw the route they had chosen. The fastest possible route was straight across the United States. They had already notified the old neighbor to the north, as well as the other four countries they would be flying over. As long as they did not land there, a simple notice would suffice.
Despite discussing their future actions in detail and chatting about other, much more trivial things, the minutes of the four crewmen dragged on and on. They were more than pleased when the land below them turned into open sea; dark, dense, undulating. They even spotted a few seagulls below. Light streamed over it, slow and steady. They realized that they had never had to cross an entire ocean with the Falconer before. And after spending so much time in the desert, a little humid air was good for them.
“Burton? Don't go to sleep! We are working.”
He half-opened his eyes lazily.
“I'm not asleep, Cam,” he stammered, yawning wide.
“Of course. And I guess those horrible sounds coming out of your mouth were prayers.”
The sleepy soldier felt a rush of cold air and opened his eyes wide.
“I don't snore,” he grumbled.
He stretched and jumped out of his seat. He went to the monitors behind the small cabin and studied the map again. He soon realized that he had actually slept for quite a while, almost an hour.
So, the hours passed between naps, reading and talking. They flew over Greenland and then into the Atlantic Ocean, finally entering Norwegian airspace and casting their shadow over the cold and sublime sea.
The sky had darkened as well, moving away from the sun behind them.
As they continued across the country, the water began to alternate with many small islands; then very winding fjords replaced both. It was a landscape that seemed fascinating and very exotic, with all the brown, green, and white patches that dotted the ocean and stood out in the darkness.
As they passed through this area, the land was filled with wide expanses of grassland, bushes, and the edges of a dense forest. From time to time, they could see some rocks, ranging in color from gray to ochre, near the foothills.
It was still summer, so the weather was mild in this remote and gloriously wild region, and snow could be seen only in the highest parts of the valley.
Frances was most impressed by the natural spectacle. After all, someone like her, a passionate survivalist and explorer, could not be anything but ecstatic to have a new environment to explore. Her mind was so enraptured by all the things she could do and study in this place that she almost forgot about Chimera.
Gerard, on the other hand, was enraptured by the images of the Society's soldiers in the capital, by an Art deprived of its freedom, by the citizens in their confusion, and most of all by his younger brother and his plans. They were close, he told himself, a little further and they would have the mountain in front of them; a little further and they could start turning over rocks to find Chimera's hideout.
She sat in the passenger seat and slowly leaned out of the window in anticipation.
“We're almost there. Wow, despite the lack of light, it's an incredible landscape! We're so used to the desert climate, guys,” she commented, not taking her eyes off the pale mountain peaks.
“It doesn't seem so incredible to me. It's too cold for me,” Burton muttered.
“We're practically on top of it,” Cam replied.
He had had to zoom in on the map on the monitor to continue visualizing the route since they were already at the indicated location. And now, he barely noticed how quickly the kilometers were passing because of the wonder and gentle pleasure he found himself in as he watched the place pass below him. Now that he could see the place, he was not surprised that Chimera and Phoenix had chosen to live there, if all that was true (for doubts still lurked). It was the perfect place to hide from humanity, live in peace and quiet, and all the other things such a critter might need.
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“This place is a national park. Its name is Saltfjellet-Svartisen,” Gerard said, finally out of his trance. “It is full of lakes and basins.”
“It fits the name,” Cam joked. “Well, guys, put on something warm and get ready to go.”
He slipped into a dark turtleneck, a chocolate-colored military-style cap, and leather gloves of the same color. Gerard put on a long gray gabardine coat lined with black synthetic fur. It wasn't heavy and didn't have a hood, but it was comfortable. Frances wore a pearl-colored one with a very wide, velvety hood, and she had reserved a pair of huge snow boots. Burton's anorak was a bit bulkier than the others, as he was the most sensitive to cold of the group. It was a very pale blue and the collar completely covered his neck.
“Perfect! That's the mountain,” Cam exclaimed, looking at his map. “Any good places to land, Burton?”
The Falconer's front and side lights were focused on the mountain's surface.
“There is plenty of room. I guess it depends on where you want to start looking.”
“There's a good spot over there. See that? Next to that overhang.”
“Yes, sir!”
Burton deployed the landing gear, and it wasn't long before the Falconer was in place. They were about halfway up the mountain. They could just as well decide to go up or down and it would be a similar distance.
Oelfjellet was the highest mountain in the Saltfjellet range. And in the area where it was, there were six other mountains. Behind them, the landscape consisted of a valley of steep cliffs and semi-snowy plains where the grasses were yellowish and swayed in the wind. In the distance, a lake shimmered almost as white as snow, reflecting the starlight on its wavering surface.
“So, this is the ‘Caliginous Mountain’,” Gerard commented quietly.
“What the hell does that word mean?” asked Frances.
“It is dark and foggy.”
“Well, that's inadequate: there's no fog here at all.”
Cam and Burton looked at the map of the mountain on the monitor. The mountain was almost eighteen hundred kilometers long, and to explore it thoroughly was a lot of work. Frances quickly suggested a first cursory exploration, so they could take note of crevices and caves or any other promising location. And Burton could do a few laps in the Falconer and report back what he saw. The truth was, they had no idea how to look for this creature, and they were in the dark to boot, but they had no time to waste either.
Before setting foot outside the heliplane, the squad grabbed all the tools and supplies they would need: water, first aid kits, multi-tools, pocket shovels and picks, GPS, night vision goggles, headsets, and of course the PCCs. None of them believed they would find dangerous animals there, but they grabbed their knives and revolvers anyway.
They surveyed their surroundings: a light but cold breeze blew and ruffled their hair. The place was very quiet: they heard only the rustling of leaves and branches.
Thanks to a clear sky, the moon, the stars, and the white surfaces of the lake and mountain snow, the site remained bright enough for the team to clearly see the mountain range and trees of the basin.
Frances asked for the peak and Cam agreed. Gerard was instructed to check the side of the mountain, and he preferred to take care of the four hundred meters between there and the peak.
And so they began to wander back and forth, into the shadows cast by ledges and rocks, straining to reach the most hidden areas and squeezing into crevices, illuminating every nook and cranny. Burton, meanwhile, scanned from the air, alerting his companions to any interesting formations.
It took them about six hours. In Cinia it would have been late, but here it was the middle of the summer night. Their schedule was seven hours ahead of Cinia's, and though they took many notes and marked several places for detailed examination, Caliginous Mountain seemed overall as normal as the others around them; beautiful, yes, but in the light of their first exploration there was no sign of any unusual creatures.
It was about four o'clock when Burton was called to pick up all his companions. He took them to the place where they had first landed.
“Well, that's disappointing,” Cam had become a bit grumpy.
“Only on the surface.” Gerard studied his notes at the PCC. “We have some very promising sites.”
They needed to organize these sites for their second visit. No matter how tired they were, there was no time to waste, not if they were going to find Chimera before Wilker's computer setup.
“My expert advice is that if we're going into these caves, we should go in pairs,” Frances reasoned.
Although it wasn't that dark outside, the crevices and caves would be.
Cam nodded, shaking off his disappointment.
“Gerard and Burton from here to the foothill; Frankie and I up.”
It didn't take them long to reach their respective targets, two small cavities deep in the rock that seemed to lead to caves.
Cam and Frances eventually stumbled upon a bat den at the bottom of the short cave. No sign of Chimera.
Gerard and Burton had to go a little farther, and with great care, as the cave was very winding. There were also a few bats, perhaps a bit lost; a snake, many insects, nothing else.
They crossed the places off their lists and moved on to the next. This was their walk for the rest of the night.
It soon gave way to a cooler dawn.
Cam and Frances managed to check out four more places. And with each one they checked, they felt more under pressure because they couldn't find any trace, any indication that anything was different. A few hundred meters below them, the other two members of the team were exploring a cave, much larger than the other two they had visited. They had been there for quite a while now and had put aside the urge to check places off their list. Not that it was a big deal, it was an ordinary cave, low but wide. Animals inhabited it on all sides, they had to watch out for scorpions a lot. But there was nothing there for them. It was clear now more than ever that throwing themselves blindly into the caves had not been wise.
Time flew and they decided to return to the Falconer. They needed at least four hours of sleep if they wanted to continue working.
Later, their colleagues arrived.
Their adventure had been no more exciting than their own. They exhausted their five destinations uneventfully and were quite disappointed. Gerard was flipping through the pages of the book at random when he saw them arrive dirty and sad. It didn't look good.
“I guess it is too early to rule out the existence of Chimera,” Cam grunted in frustration.
Gerard pretended to answer him, but he beat him to it.
“No, Gerard, don't say it, I know,” he shouted, gesturing to the four winds. “I wasn't expecting such an empty reception, to tell you the truth. Well, maybe I did, but the point is that you were right: we should have sought expert help.”
“But we don't know anything about the whereabouts of this society, remember?” Frances leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.
“No, but it could be someone else, someone who knows the local legends,” Gerard suggested. “The Chronicles speak of these beings being related to the Sami. Their stories could shed some light on the information we have. We need an expert on them.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Burton. They might even know how to find Chimera. What if there's some strange thing you have to do to find her? And that's why we haven't had any luck.”
“What do you mean?” Frances encouraged him.
“Like… Like… Well, like looking for a secret door behind a rock of a certain shape, or… reciting something like a password. I don't know,” he shrugged. “What I'm saying is that Art didn't tell us what to do to find Chimera, and these blind searches are the worst.”
Cam looked at Burton with a raised eyebrow and a meditative grimace.
“True, he didn't tell us what to do. But he was clear when he indicated that she would be here. And if she's not in the caves, then where? If we can't find her by exploring, then how?”
“There are still a lot of places we haven't checked thoroughly,” Frances replied more calmly. “Maybe we just haven't looked hard enough. But I guess it can't hurt to ask someone.”
He nodded calmly.
“I will contact the Intelligence Department in Alamogordo. In the meantime, soldiers, you should get some sleep.”
“We need that good microphone for the voice translator. Wonder where it is.”
“We'll see about that, Burton,” the captain continued. “Let's not think about time limits for now.”
Burton began to yawn, and Frances couldn't help but do the same.
“Sweet dreams,” the captain gave in to the yawn. “I'll be right back.”
“Are you going to call them now?” the pilot asked.
“As soon as possible.”
Frances approached the Falconer's door and locked it. She went to the back and searched the trunks for some blankets. She tossed one to each of her companions, except for Gerard, to whom she held it out.
Cam had a quick video conference with the base. General Ponce was no longer there, and many of the workers and soldiers were concerned about the outcome of her visit to Kennéh.
He asked for the ID's help. He was met by a thin-faced agent. It took her a while to figure out what the Fifth Squad needed: an expert on the Sami, their history, their culture. As soon as she was sure that she had written down the request in detail, she promised that the investigation would be finished by eight o'clock (i.e. three o'clock in the afternoon). It was only fair to be patient with them: they must be swamped with work, so Cam calmly said goodbye and went to his corner.
In their exhaustion, they paid little attention to the sounds outside: the bats and owls flying overhead to their shelters, the creatures that roamed among the rocks rustling the grass and gravel, and the intense hooting of the wind as it struck the branches of the pines and bushes.
They awoke just before their alarm clock went off: a small bird was pecking at the Falconer's front rotor with stubborn insistence.
The heat was taking its toll, though the four of them had ended up huddled together in the back near the rear door anyway.
Cam was the first to shake off his sleep and approached the front door to look around. The sun was shining on the forest, and he could now see the distant landscape clearly—it was a thing of beauty.
He turned off the alarm clock and went to join his colleagues.
“Soldiers! If we were at home, I'd scold you for letting the good sun beat you today. Come on! I want to see you up and this place cleaned up before three o'clock!”
“Three?” muttered Frances. “Oh, man.”
Slowly, and still more asleep than awake, the three of them slipped out of the comforting embrace of the blankets, folded them up, and left them in the same trunk Frances had taken them from. Surely someone had salivated over them, but since none of them knew when they might replace or wash them, they just put them away.
After eating some cereal for breakfast, some of what they had managed to get in Alamogordo, they began to plan their day.
Cam paused anxiously in front of the monitor, glancing at his watch from time to time.
“All right, it shouldn't be long now. Remind me when…”
The computer received an incoming videoconference.
Just in time.
It opened the communication, pleased with the timeliness.
“This is Captain Cameron. I hope I didn't keep your friends up too late.”
“Not at all, his agent replied cheerfully. In fact, we found the right person rather quickly.”
“Really? You are aces, no doubt!”
The woman smiled reassuringly.
“As it happens, General Arthur Ness already had a file of research on this culture and its stories, including an extensive list of names.”
“How?” He tilted his head to one side.
“Whenever we open a new file, we always do a general review of the existing ones to check what exactly we know. And so I found a handful of related files: some from investigations and the others from profiling. I called the supervisor of our unit, and he recognized the file that he and other colleagues had been working on many years ago. It looks like it was originally created in the sixties, before Ness was appointed Chancellor of Cinia and General of the Army. Twenty-two years, go figure.”
Cam was momentarily surprised. On second thought, it wasn't so strange: if the general knew of the existence of these three beings before the truce, then it was logical that he would try to find out what happened to them or the people who knew them. But why didn't he mention it?
His companions heard this as well. There was astonishment on their faces, and doubt, with the same question.
“So, what information do the files contain?”
“Yes. Among the contacts in the file is a man whose name appears frequently. A historian and author of books and articles, ‘a trusted expert,’ as the general himself says in the notes. The supervisor also told us that this man and the general had been friends since that time.”
A photograph appeared on the monitor: it was the general, about twenty years younger, and another man a few years older. They were sitting side by side in front of a wooden desk. Behind them were shelves of books. The other man had a friendly, square face, with somewhat grayish, short brown hair; he wore glasses and a long coat over his black suit.
“Then, this is our man,” the captain concluded.
“Mikkal Brun. He must be about sixty-six years old today.”
“It looks very ordinary, doesn't he?” Cam stared at the photograph.
“Well… I wouldn't know. He lives and works in the town of Hemmelig in the province of Troms.”
“Good, excellent! We won't have to look far.”
Gerard waved at him, asking for attention. He leaned closer and whispered in his ear. Cam nodded, snapped his fingers, and turned back to the monitor.
“My Lieutenant has reminded me of something that might be helpful to us. Since the general has some very well researched files, we were wondering if you had anything in there related to a person—or persons—named Robson?”
“Mmmh. I think so… Wait a minute.”
She disappeared for a few minutes. When she returned, she had a tablet with her and was studying the information carefully.
“Luckily, the file supervisor is still around: he pointed me to the part of the file where these people are mentioned. Let's see… ‘The Robsons are a family traditionally involved in the recording and study of Northern European history.’ “
“There are still living Robsons?!” That was very, very unexpected.
“Yes and no, Captain. There are four names listed here, but only one has that last name, a female. Unfortunately, she is deceased. Her last name was Robson when she was single and changed to Wine when she married. The other three are her children. They kept their father's last name.”
Cam bowed his head slightly.
“And what does that say about them?”
“ ‘None of the three have ever been interested in the legacy of the Robson Society. I strongly suspect that their father, an ordinary businessman with no curiosity, turned them away from the old maternal family papers and taught them to disregard them as mere figments of their ancestors' imaginations. According to the old man, the mother, whom I did not have the pleasure of meeting, agreed to tell them of the Robson's academic merits, but to omit anything to do with the Society. Thus, while they may be vaguely aware of the contents of these papers or of the existence of the Society, none of them has the slightest idea who they really were or what they did.’ That's all the executive summary says. The document doesn't clearly say how they are related to Sami or what this society is, sorry.”
Cam looked at his companions: they were disappointed. The Robson descendants were alive, but apparently, they knew no more than they did.
“No, it's okay. Very good work, everyone. Tell the boys and the supervisor, will you?”
“Of course. Good luck with your mission, Captain.”
“Anyway, I want you to keep these files handy in case we need them again, okay?”
She nodded quietly and took her leave very formally. Then Cam turned to his companions, who had settled down near the Falconer's door and were waiting for him.
“So, Art had already some contacts, huh?” began Frances.
“I know the original plan was not to seek out this historian, but I wonder why he thought it was not important to tell us these things.” Burton scratched his forearm.
“Yeah,” Cam echoed. “I guess he didn't think we'd need any help… He didn't seem to be hurt badly enough to lose concentration and forget, did he?”
They were silent. They had considered Art to be lucid, but he could have been worse than he showed, maybe he had forgotten.
“We should leave immediately,” Gerard said.
Cam nodded.
“Do you agree to go and look for our friend Brun, Gerard? I think you speak the best the language of the Academy,” he chuckled. “And Burton, you'll go too.”
“Really?! I don't think I'm much of an academic.”
“But you are a good influence when it comes to preserving the mood friendly.”
“Oh, that's it. Well, yeah, I think I can do that.”
“Perfect! So, let's get to work, soldiers: we have a few things to drop off.”
They placed the things Cam and Frances would need in a corner out of the sun and rain, in the wide crack under the overhang, and returned to the Falconer.
“Now we must remember that we have a time limit. That's why you must get to the point as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion,” he looked at Gerard. “You might even show him the book if the opportunity presents itself. Don't forget that you must treat this subject as if it were of purely academic interest, for the love of the past, of history, and so on.”
“Of course,” Gerard laughed softly. “We'll be careful with our words. Right, Buck?”
“Oops. I'll… I'll let Gerard do the talking.”
Frances chuckled.
“Gerard, you're good at this, I trust you.” He turned to Burton. “You too, of course. Just think before you speak.”
The NCO sighed in resignation: he was too honest and lying on purpose or pretending were complicated tasks.