Ancient Shores Part 32

"That we take the initiative. That we not wait for them to hit us us."

"And how would you do that?"

They'd reached the security station and hesitated by the door. "We could start by dropping a few trees on the access road. That'll at least slow them down."

"There are police stationed along the road."

"I know," said Adam.

And Walker understood. The police did not look as if they believed any serious deployment by the defenders would take place. This was, after all, an area where people traditionally did not shoot each other. A simultaneous series of ambushes could clear the road. And a couple of well-positioned snipers might hold it if some trees were dropped. It might work. "No," he said.

"Chairman, we cannot sit here and simply wait for the attack to come."

"And if you kill a few policemen, do you think the end will be any different?"

Anger rose in Adam's dark eyes. "If we are to travel beyond the great river, we should not go unescorted."

"No," Walker said again. "Spill blood once, and there will be no end to it until we are all dead. I prefer a better outcome."

"And how do you hope to arrange a better outcome?"

"I've been in touch with well-placed friends. Help is on the way."

"Well-placed friends?" Adam smiled. "When have the Sioux known such friends?"

"Possibly longer than you think, Adam. It may be that you have simply not recognized them."

They went into the security station. Little Ghost and Sandra Whitewing got to their feet. Both looked calm. Little Ghost was in his late twenties. The chairman knew him, had always worried about his future, because Little Ghost had a wife and two sons but no job. Today it looked as if that would no longer be a matter for concern.

And Sandra, who had once come to him for help when her father drove his car into a gas pump. Her dark eyes shone, and it struck him that she was extraordinarily lovely. Somehow, over the years, he had failed to notice. Too busy negotiating his own narrow track through the world. Pity.

She worked in a restaurant that catered to reservation visitors. He had heard that she was engaged to a white man, a carpenter or an electrician or something, who lived in Devil's Lake. She was not yet twenty-one. He considered ordering her off the ridge but knew that would be unfair, both to her and to her brothers. She had chosen to make her stand, and he could not deprive her of that privilege.

Weapons were stacked around the room. M-16s. At least they had some firepower.

"We also have a hand-held rocket launcher," said Adam. "They will not take us without paying a price."

"Who else is here?" asked Walker.

"Will Pipe, George Freewater, and Andrea are in the Roundhouse. Max and Dr. Cannon haven't left yet, but I'm sure they will do so shortly. They're with visitors."

"There are still still visitors?" asked Walker, surprised. visitors?" asked Walker, surprised.

"Three from the last tour."

He lowered himself into a chair. "We need to talk about the defense."

The door opened, and Max came in. "I wouldn't have believed this was possible," he said apologetically. "I've been trying to call Senator Wykowski, but it looks as if the lines are down."

Walker smiled. "They don't want us talking to anyone," he said. "But I don't think it matters. We are way beyond senatorial intervention." The chairman felt sorry for Max, who seemed to be a man uncertain of purpose. Courage is not easy to summon when one is at war with oneself.

He looked through the window at the sunset. It saddened him to realize he might not see another.

April was talking with the departing researchers, wondering whether they would be the last to have crossed to Eden. They were Cecil Morin, an overweight, softlooking middle-aged bacteriologist from the University of Colorado; Agatha Greene, a Harvard astrophysicist who had been overcome by the wonders of the Horsehead; and Dmitri Rushenko, a biologist from SmithKline Beecham Pharmaceuticals.

"I'd like to move over there," said Greene.

"Is it true," asked Morin, "that the government is about to take this place?"

April nodded. "Apparently so."

Morin shook his head sadly. "G.o.d help us all."

Rushenko opened the door to his car. "You're in the right, you know." His accent was New York. Long Island, she thought.

"We know."

"I hate to think of the port in the hands of the government," he continued. "d.a.m.ned shame. I wish I could help." He got into his car and started the engine.

"Well, I'll tell you something," said Greene. "If the decision were mine, they'd have to take it from me."

April held the door while she got in. "We intend to stay," she said, using the p.r.o.noun figuratively, for she she had no intention of staying. But it felt good to say so. "And you're welcome to stay with us, Agatha, if you wish." She intended it as a joke or bravado or something and immediately felt embarra.s.sed by the woman's confusion. had no intention of staying. But it felt good to say so. "And you're welcome to stay with us, Agatha, if you wish." She intended it as a joke or bravado or something and immediately felt embarra.s.sed by the woman's confusion.

"I would like to, April," the astrophysicist said. "I really would. But I have a husband and a little girl." She blushed.

The others said nothing.

April watched for her chance to talk privately with the chairman. He was out with Adam and the others, bent into a severe wind, touring the mounds of earth that rose around the rim of the excavation pit. Those mounds, she gathered, would const.i.tute the first line of defense.

"Max," she said, "why are they doing this? What's the point?"

Max was coming to hate the Roundhouse and everything a.s.sociated with it. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe it's a cultural thing."

She knew Max was waiting anxiously for her to agree to leave. He'd warned her that going down the access road in the dark past nervous police entailed risks.

It was dark now.

"I hate to leave them here," she said, initiating another cycle of the conversation they'd been having over and over for the last hour.

"So do I."

"I wish there were something we could do."

"Why do they insist on doing this? There's nothing to gain."

At eight o'clock they killed the security lights, but the churned-up ground was still visible in the glow from the Roundhouse. "Too bad they can't throw a tarp over that thing," said Max.

When the chairman left Adam and retreated to the security station, she judged the time was right. "Max," she said, "let's go talk to him."

Max had lost all hope of making anybody see reason. To him, Adam Sky and his people, who had once seemed so rational, had been transformed into a band of fanatics who were ruled by ghosts of lost battles and ancient hatreds. The prospect of telling a federal court and a police force to kiss off was utterly foreign to Max's nature.

Walker seemed cheerful enough when they caught up with him.

"Chairman," April said with her voice fluttering, "don't do this. You can stop it."

Walker smiled warmly at her. "Are you still here?" he asked.

The wind ripped across the escarpment and hammered against the building. "We don't want to leave you here."

"I'm pleased to hear that," he said. "But you can't stay." The exchange caused Max's pulse to miss a beat. He had no intention of getting caught in the crossfire.

"There's no reason to do this," April said. "It won't change the result."

Walker stared at her. "Don't be too sure." He looked away, up at the moon, which was in its third quarter, and then out over the river valley, dark except for the distant pools of light at Fort Moxie and its border station.

"You can fight this in the courts," said Max. "I would think you'd have a good chance of getting it back. But if you put up an armed resistance-"

Something in the old man's eyes brought Max to a stop.

"What?" said April. "What aren't you telling us?"

"I have no idea what you mean, young lady." But he couldn't quite get the coyness out of his voice.

"What?" she said. "You've got the place mined? What is it?"

The helicopter was back. It rolled across the center of the escarpment.

Walker looked at his watch.

"The rational way is through the courts," she said. "Why aren't you going through the courts?"

The question hit home, and Walker simply waved it away. He didn't want to talk anymore. Wanted her to leave.

"Why?" she asked. "Why won't the courts work? You think the fix is in? Something else?"

"Please go, April," he said. "I wish there were a better way."

April's eyes widened. "You think they're going to destroy it, don't you? You don't think the courts would be able able to hand it back." to hand it back."

The chairman stared past her, his eyes fixed on the sky. Then he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

"My G.o.d," she said. "That can't be right. They wouldn't do that."

But they would have to. As long as people believed the advanced technologies existed, that they could eventually surface, they would continue to work their baleful effects on the world at large. There was only one way to neutralize the Roundhouse.

"I think," said Max, "he's right. It's time for us to clear out."

April stood hesitating, dismayed. Terrified. "No," she said. "I don't think it is."

Max's heart sank.

"I'm not going," she said. "I'm not going to let it happen."

Brian Kautter was the commissioner of the Environmental Protection Agency. At eight-thirty, tracked by TV cameras, he walked into the agency's press room. There was more tension in the air and more reporters present than he had ever seen. That meant there had been a leak.

Kautter was a tall, congenial African-American. He hated what was happening right now, and he resented being part of it. He saw the necessity of the president's action. But he knew this was one of those events that would dog him through the years. He suspected a time would come, and very soon, when he would wish with all his heart for the capability to come back and relive these next few minutes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I have an announcement to make, after which I will be happy to take questions. We have become increasingly concerned with the dangers inherent in the Roundhouse. Your government, as you know, has taken no official position on whether there actually is is a bridge to the stars. But enough evidence is in to allow us to conclude that the land on the other side is most certainly not terrestrial. a bridge to the stars. But enough evidence is in to allow us to conclude that the land on the other side is most certainly not terrestrial.

"That brings up a number of disquieting possibilities. There are already stories that something has pa.s.sed into our world. We do not know what this something might be, nor do we believe there is any truth to the account. But we cannot rule it out. Nor can we be certain that such an event might not happen in the future. There are other potential hazards. Viruses, for example. Or contaminants.

"In order to ensure the general public's safety, EPA has requested and received a court order requiring the owners of the artifact to submit it to government inspection and control. I repeat, this is only a temporary measure and is designed purely to avert local hazards." Kautter looked like a man in pain. "I'll take questions now."

Maris Quimby from the Post Post: "Mr. Commissioner, have the Sioux agreed to this arrangement?"

Kautter shook his head. "Maris, a federal court order does not require anyone's consent. But to answer your question, I'm sure they'll see the wisdom of the action." He pointed at Hank Miller, from Fox.

"Isn't it a little late to worry about bugs? I mean, if there's anything dangerous over there, we can be reasonably sure that by now it's over here."

"We don't think there's any real reason to worry, Hank. Our action in this regard is purely precautionary."

When he was finished, he went back upstairs to his office and opened the bottle of rum he kept stashed in his supply cabinet.

30.

Courage is worth nothing if the G.o.ds do not help.-Euripides, The Suppliant Women The Suppliant WomenThis is an NBC News flash.U.S. Marshals have sealed off Johnson's Ridge tonight, apparently preparing to seize the property. A group of Native Americans has announced they will not obey a federal court order to leave. We take you first to Michael Pateman at the White House, and then to Carole Jensen at the Sioux reservation near Devil's Lake, North Dakota.

Jensen was set up inside the tribal chambers in the Blue Building, where she had cornered William Hawk. National coverage. When you worked for the ten o'clock news in Fargo, this was the moment you lived for. She smiled at Hawk and got no reaction.

"One minute," said her cameraman, adjusting his focus.