Nine Eleven, page 6
part #5 of Area 51- Time Patrol Series
“Or Pennsylvania?” Eagle asked.
Dane said, “We all were alive during—”
“I was just a baby,” Lara said.
Dane adjusted. “Most of us remember the attacks. Our lives changed because of them. Some, obviously. Moms, Roland, and Eagle—that was the beginning of the wars in which you fought and bled before ending up in the Nightstalkers, and then here. Doc, it had deep personal repercussions because of your faith.”
“Huh?” Roland said.
“I’m Muslim,” Doc said.
“Oh.” Roland shrugged. “No biggie.”
“Not to you,” Doc said. “But it is to others who aren’t as broad-minded.” There was no sarcasm in the comment. “But it has caused my family much trouble, living in the United States, from those less ignorant.”
“Tell me who they are,” Roland said. “I’ll change their minds.”
“There are minds that are too narrow to change,” Doc said.
“I’ll widen ‘em,” Roland muttered.
“How is the mission not connected to the attacks?” Eagle asked, getting them back on task. “If there was ever a way to create a Cascade, any of those four events would do it.”
“It was a day of chaos,” Dane said. “The United States was obviously not prepared. As it, and the rest of the world, scrambled to react, it seems someone was ready to take advantage of the confusion. Or there was simply an amazing coincidence.”
“Who?” Eagle asked. “Why am I going to Russia?”
“We don’t know who,” Dane said.
“What happened?” Eagle asked.
“The Fifth Plane,” Dane said.
“You said it wasn’t connected to the terrorist attacks,” Moms pointed out.
Dane explained. “That’s what the handful of people who know what happened call it. There are less than a dozen people in the world who are aware of the Fifth Plane. It was an Antonov Two-Two-Five, and—”
“There was only one Two-Two-Five ever built,” Eagle said. “The Ukrainians are still flying it.”
“No,” Dane corrected. “There were two. You gave the Wikipedia answer, which I know you and Ms. Frobish detest.”
Edith flushed dark red, but Eagle wasn’t fazed. “So the second one was a secret.”
“Indeed,” Dane said. “The world is full of secrets. The second plane was detailed to the GRU for classified operations. It remained with the Russians.”
“What’s this Two-Two-Five?” Roland asked. “A special plane?”
“The largest and heaviest plane ever built,” Eagle said.
“The Mriya,” Edith said. “The “Dream” or “Inspiration” in Russian.”
“All right,” Eagle said. “What happened to this secret Dream plane on Nine Eleven?”
“If you check history,” Dane said, “you’ll see that on the Eleventh of September, Two Thousand and One, the 225 that is acknowledged to exist lifted four main battle tanks weighing over two hundred and fifty thousand tons to an altitude of over thirty-five thousand feet, setting a world record for lift and height, while flying from Kiev to Odessa.”
“That same day?” Ivar asked.
“History is full of amazing coincidences,” Dane said, “and there are those who take advantage of those coincidences in different ways because, while the Russians figured the focus would be on that world–record flight, it was an opportunity to use their AN-225 to move a top-secret cargo quickly and expeditiously. Unfortunately, the second plane never made it to the destination.”
“Just disappeared?” Eagle asked.
“Just disappeared,” Dane repeated. “It vanished from radar over the Barents Sea, and it’s hard for the largest plane in the world to disappear from radar.”
“Transponder?” Eagle asked.
“Didn’t have one,” Dane said. “Remember? The plane didn’t exist to start with.”
“Crashed into the ocean?” Eagle asked.
“Possible, indeed likely,” Dane said, “or it could be a navigation error, and the plane missed its destination and flew over the Arctic Ocean until it ran out of fuel. There’s almost no information available. All we know is, it disappeared off radar and stopped communicating, and wouldn’t respond.”
“It’s never been found since?” Eagle asked.
Dane shook his head. “No.”
Lara surprised everyone when she asked, “The cargo?”
“Tsar Bomba,” Dane said.
“Oh, frak me,” Eagle said. “Tsar Bomba,” he explained, “was the most powerful bomb ever built. But there was only one, and it was detonated.” He raised his hands before Dane could explain. “I get it. Just like the plane, there were two.”
“Exactly,” Dane said. “The Russians detonated Tsar Bomba on 30 October 1960. It was, and still is, the largest man-made blast the world has ever known. Fifty megatons, and that was scaled down from what was believed the bomb’s true capability—one hundred megatons.”
“Take every conventional bomb dropped in World War Two,” Edith said, “and multiply the effect by ten. Or take the Nagasaki and Hiroshima bombs combined, and multiply by fourteen hundred. That’s the equivalent of the half-power explosion of Tsar Bomba.”
“No math,” Roland said, but the humor was weak, because even he understood the gravity of the numbers.
“What happened in Two Thousand and One?” Eagle asked.
“We don’t know,” Dane said. “All we know is, the AN-225 carrying the second Tsar Bomba disappeared. The Russians never made it public. They never figured out what happened to it.”
“Where was it going?” Eagle asked.
“To Novaya Zemlya,” Dane said. “The Russians never admitted they had a second one-hundred-megaton bomb, but the assumption is they were trying to discard it, perhaps even detonate it. One source hints that President Putin, who was embroiled in the war in Chechnya and had only been in power a little over a year and a half in 2001, wanted to make a demonstration. Exploding a second Tsar Bomba would definitely have gotten the world’s attention.”
Edith spoke up. “Novaya Zemlya is where they detonated the first one, and numerous other nuclear weapons. The Soviet Union, and now Russia, have been dumping nuclear waste on the island and in the waters around it. The cores of outdated nuclear submarines are simply being scuttled there. It’s a very dangerous place, and many parts are unapproachable. There is the possibility they were going to simply dump it there, in a hot spot where no human could get to it.”
“The source,” Dane said, “says he actually saw the bomb being loaded onto the AN-225 at Olenya Air Field on the Kola Peninsula the morning of Eleven September, Two Thousand and One. The same airfield from which the plane that dropped the first one took off. He said the bomb was wired for detonation and mounted on a carryall. He believes the AN-225 was going to land on an unimproved landing strip on Novaya Zemlya, roll the bomb off, put it in an underground bunker dug into the side of a mountain, then activate it with a delayed explosion.”
“That’s a lot of detail,” Eagle said. “You said you didn’t have much.”
“Not on what happened to the plane,” Dane said, “and it’s just one source.”
“All right.” Eagle nodded. “I’m supposed to find the AN-225 and the bomb. How?”
“When it disappeared off radar, the Russians sent a chase plane,” Dane said. “You’ll be in that.”
“What happened to the chase plane?” Eagle asked.
“It disappeared, too.”
“Of course,” Eagle said. “But that was years ago. Neither of the planes nor the bomb have shown up since. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is,” Dane said, “neither have shown up since. So both, especially the bomb, are still out there. The Russians conducted an extensive search of the Barents Sea, on Novaya Zemlya, and even past it into the Arctic Ocean to the farthest range of the AN-225. Nothing. They had vessels scouring the ocean floor for over a year. Nothing. There should at least have been some signature from the core of the bomb. I find that worrisome.”
No one could argue with that.
Eagle had a fundamental problem. “In all our other missions, we knew the history. What was supposed to happen. Here, all we know is, the two planes and the bomb disappeared. Despite the search, they’re all likely lying on the ocean floor beneath the Barents or Arctic Sea.”
“Most likely,” Dane agreed. “That’s the conclusion the Russians came to, for lack of any other answer that makes sense. But here’s the thing. Planes have disappeared before. Ships. You’ve seen some of those. In the Space Between.”
“Is the AN-225 in the Space Between?” Eagle asked.
“Amelia Earhart has never reported seeing it,” Dane said, “but she’s never been able to circumnavigate the Inner Sea. She has no idea how big the Space Between is.”
“But even if it’s there,” Eagle said, “it’s doing no harm.”
Dane shrugged. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Eagle. I’m telling you all we know. This is a mystery in history. Apparently, it’s one the Shadow wants to change. Our analysts are picking up ripples from that date, related to this specific event.”
“What good does this uniform do me?” Eagle asked. “Anyone who sees me is going to know I’m not Russian.”
“The Russians export a considerable number of their fighters,” Dane said, “just like we do. The countries buying them have to get their pilots trained. If push comes to shove, the assumption will be you’re from Ethiopia, in Russia to be trained. Plus, you’re going to be in the cockpit of a jet fighter. I know you probably have a lot more questions, but we have very little information about this event.”
Dane shifted his attention to Moms. “This is yours.”
11 September 1857. Mountain Meadows, Utah.
“Oh, crap,” Moms said. “You gotta be kidding me. No way.”
“He don’t look like he’s kidding,” Roland said, lifting the heavy head of the battle-axe off the floor a few inches.
“I know, Roland,” Moms said, forestalling an overreaction. “I was just hoping it wasn’t that year.” She put a reassuring hand on Roland’s forearm, and the head of the axe thudded to the floor. She shifted her attention to Dane. “You know my history. Maybe this should be for someone else.”
“And you knowing your history is the reason this mission is yours,” Dane said.
“Someone want to clue the rest of us in?” Lara asked.
Dane nodded toward Edith, who didn’t need notes as she recited. “Early in September 1857, a California-bound wagon train of emigrants from Arkansas was passing through southwest Utah. Tensions were high between the Federal government and the Mormons. There was fear that Federal martial law would be declared, and Brigham Young, the head of the Mormons, would be removed as governor.”
Edith continued. “On September Seventh, this particular wagon train, the Baker-Fancher party, was attacked by a party of local Mormons and some Native American allies. The Mormons were dressed as Indians in an attempt to disguise their culpability. The wagons were circled, and the emigrants defended themselves for several days. Finally, with their ammunition, food and water running low, they were persuaded to accept an offer of safe conduct by a Mormon representative if they would surrender their weapons.”
“Never,” Roland muttered. “Never give up your weapon.”
Moms answered that. “If you have no bullets, you don’t have much choice, but worse, they believed the promise of safe escort.”
“They did,” Edith said. “Two Mormons negotiated the truce. They assured the emigrants they would be escorted safely back to Cedar City in exchange for giving up their weapons and turning over their cattle and supplies to the Indians. The offer was accepted. The next day, the men were escorted from the camp separately, a single Mormon with each man. At a pre-arranged signal, those Mormons shot each man in the head. At the same time, Mormons and Indians attacked the rest of the party, killing women and children. The only ones spared were seventeen children under age seven. Thirty-five children older than that were killed.”
“Well, damn,” Lara said. “That ain’t very neighborly.”
“Some of the children were eventually ransomed back to family members in Arkansas,” Moms said.
“The rest...?” Eagle asked.
“They were assimilated into the Mormon community,” Moms said. “The Mormons were sworn to secrecy. The attack was blamed completely on the Native Americans.”
“Why did they do it?” Scout said.
“The same reason people often do very bad things,” Moms said. “They were afraid.”
“They were also greedy, which is another reason people do bad things,” Edith said. “This particular wagon train was known to be rather wealthy, and they had a considerable number of cattle.”
“‘Vengeance is mine and I have taken a little,’” Moms murmured. She shivered, trying to shake off her thoughts. “Do we have any idea what my mission is? Is the Shadow trying to stop the massacre? If that’s the case, I can’t, in all—”
“We don’t know,” Dane said, “and you can. You can do whatever is needed to keep our history intact. That’s why you’re in the Time Patrol. That is your duty to our timeline.” He looked around the room. “All of you. We lived through Nine Eleven. We know what happened on that day and afterward. Many of you fought in the wars afterward. Whether they were good wars or not, they happened.”
“Nada died in Afghanistan,” Scout said.
“Millions have died as a result of what happened on Nine Eleven,” Dane said, “but we’re still here. Billions are still alive. There is no doubt there are timelines where no one is alive because of that day. Wiped out. Given the vagaries of the variables, I have no doubt there is also a timeline that no longer exists because Nine Eleven didn’t happen.”
“Am I to be part of the wagon train?” Moms asked, indicating her clothing. “This isn’t exactly normal attire for a woman of the era, and as far as I know, there were no women among the Mormon militia.”
“You’re dressed as you are,” Dane said, “because you’re going to be with the Mormons, and you can pass as a man.”
They all looked at Moms.
“No one’s coming to my defense,” Moms complained.
“Well,” Eagle said, “if you—”
“Moms is Moms,” Roland said.
“You’re arriving early the morning of the attack,” Dane said, “in the dark. We’re hoping you can accomplish what you need to do before daybreak.”
“And if not...?” Moms asked. “Why send me? I can—” She halted.
“What’s the problem, Moms?” Roland asked.
“My great-great-great-great-great grandfather was there,” Moms said.
“In the wagon train?” Roland asked.
Moms’s reply was clipped. “No.”
“Oh.” Even Roland knew what that meant.
Dane nodded. “Yes. He was there. We saw that in your file. And his son, your great-great-great-great grandfather, wasn’t born yet. So if something happens to him, then...”
“I don’t exist,” Moms said.
“Now we’re in the rabbit hole,” Ivar said.
“The vagaries of the variables,” Doc muttered, earning a sharp look from Dane.
“Did any of the attackers get killed?” Eagle asked.
“Not that were recorded,” Edith said. “Several Native Americans were killed in the initial attack five days earlier, but there were no losses on the”—Edith paused—“attacking side during the massacre.”
“The Shadow has come after the Time Patrol before,” Dane said. “This might be another attempt. Or they could be trying for two effects: prevent or partially stop the massacre, and perhaps take out your ancestor,” he said to Moms. “We don’t know. That’s your mission.”
Moms nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Roland,” Dane said.
Roland sat up straighter in his chair. “Yes?”
Dane wrote: 11 September, 9 A.D., Teutoberg Forest, Germania
“There’s a synchronicity to that,” Doc murmured. “Nine-Eleven-Nine.”
“Tell it to the dead Romans,” Eagle said.
“What happened?” Roland said, impatient to know under what circumstances he’d be wielding the battle-axe.
“The Battle of the Teutoberg Forest is one of the most important battles in history,” Dane said. “A confederation of Germanic tribes ambushed three Roman legions and effectively wiped them out.” He glanced at Edith.
She continued. “It’s listed in Creasy’s book The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World: from Marathon to Waterloo. His list is, of course, Euro-centric, but there is no denying the ramifications of this defeat of the Romans.
“The Romans were led by Publius Quinctilius Varus. The Germanics were united by Arminius, who was actually a Roman citizen and served on Varus’s staff.”
“But Arminius was a traitor?” Roland tried to put the pieces in place.
“No,” Edith said. “Actually, he was a patriot to his native land. He was the son of a Germanic chief, taken to Rome as a hostage. He grew up Roman, but he never forgot where he came from. When he had a chance to defeat the Romans, he took it, leading Varus into a massive ambush.”
“Thirty thousand KIA or prisoners,” Eagle said.
Roland nodded. “Okay. Romans lose. Germans win. What am I going to do in the middle of thirty thousand Romans getting whacked?” He waved a hand, anticipating the answer, a most un-Roland trait. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t know.”
“You bring up an excellent point,” Edith said, surprising Roland and earning a smile from Eagle. “To affect such a large battle, the focus would be on key points and key people. Varus was reacting to reports of an uprising, fabricated by Arminius, who directed him to where the ambush was waiting. The night before the expedition, Arminius’s father-in-law actually went to Varus and warned him it was a trap, and that he should arrest Arminius.”
“Didn’t happen,” Roland summarized.
“No,” Edith said. “The problem is, we don’t know when your bubble is, since the exact dates of the battle were never pinned down. It took a couple of days to conclude. You might come in on the front end, and be there when Varus is warned. The Shadow might try to amplify that warning, perhaps with a Valkyrie vision. But—”
