Play of Shadows

Chapter 63: The Fox Who Stole The Moon

The hum of voices and whir of machinery ebbed and flowed like a sea under the gales of a rolling storm. Workers in lab coats mixed with uniformed personnel, their faces awash with the light of several hundred screens. The seven crystal pods that rose in their midst were like statues of pagan gods, beset by terrified worshipers.

General Hull stood in front of one such giant. The room was kept a few degrees above freezing, but the air around the pods nearly sizzled with the amount of energy the machines consumed. The General glanced at a massive console manned by no less than three VELES technicians. The data scrolling onto the screens was as foreign to him as a bird's song.

"Status?" he demanded.

One of the men startled in place. He turned eyes bruised from lack of sleep to General Hull and repeated a phrase that had become a mantra over the past hours.

"Readings are steady."

"Any trace of the asset?"

The technician shook his head. He watched General Hull's face as nervously as he did the screens monitoring Lieutenant Arendse's vitals.

General Hull held back a sharp command for a more thorough report. He was aware of his own limitations when it came to the ungodly technology in VELES' labs. More information would not lead to better understanding, only frustration, and the General knew better than to unleash his temper. The VELES personnel were already stepping lightly around their uniformed guards. There was no need to further alienate their skittish hosts.

A soldier approached at a fast clip. The General turned his eyes away from the domed pod, nodding impatiently in response to the man's salute.

"General. Visitors at the door," the man said.

"Send them back," the General said shortly. The compound had been fielding representatives from various governmental branches and political parties all day. General Hull's patience was worn to shreds.

The soldier didn't retreat. "Sir, they are already inside. They have a signed way of passage from -"

"I don't care what they have!" General Hull snapped. He strode toward the door at the other end of the hangar, the milling personnel darting out of his way. A part of him was glad for a chance to channel his frustration into a tangible target. His steps slowed when he caught sight of two men surrounded by a retinue of guards. He cursed under his breath.

The men, too, marked his arrival. "General Hull," one of them greeted, voice like steel. His face was familiar although General Hull had never had the opportunity to meet the man in person. Bradley Covey, head of the INFINITE group among other conglomerates, could not keep a low profile even if he tried.

His companion, on the other hand, was entirely a stranger. The man offered a jaunty wave, leaning languidly against an oddly-shaped cane.

"Mr. Covey. I understand your concern, but I cannot allow you entry," the General said.

He kept his voice flat, but some of his disdain showed in his eyes. Rich men always thought themselves above law and order. The fact that this particular rich man might indeed have the President's signature in his back pocket and a carte blanche to waltz into what was now effectively a black site didn't improve the General's mood one bit.

Covey didn't acknowledge the dismissal. His eyes were a pale blue that looked gray in the ghostly light of the screens gleaming in the darkened hanger. They locked onto the General's, unflinching and unforgiving.

"I am here for my son."

General Hull held onto diplomacy with the last vestiges of patience remaining in him after almost a full day without rest. "Mr. Covey, your son is an adult. His participation in this project is voluntary and he was fully informed of the risks involved. Attempting a forced extraction will jeopardize the entire mission, not to mention your son's health."