There were few villains Hal Brognola detested more than those who sold out their country, and he didnât give a damn what the reason.
A man chooses a side, sticks with his choice no matter what the challenges, the temptations, the internal conflicts that might have him turn his back and seek what might be greener pastures.
Right then, as he slipped the rest of the sat photos and a copy of Orionâs disk into the manila envelope, the big Fed felt a little sick to his stomach. He gave the computer team a last look. They were hard at it, juggling the actionâof the coming and certain firestormsâwith professional resolve, skill and determination.
And with honor.
For the moment, there was nothing more he could do here, but he had someplace to go in search of possible answers to some dark and troubling realities.
Whatever the awful truth about the molten storm falling to earth under his command and control, Colonel Ytri Kolinko wasnât all that sure he cared to know. A veteran of the Afghan war and a staunch believer in the Communist dictates of pre-Wall Russia, he trusted simplicity in all its forms, be it on the battlefield or in the high-tech laboratories of his current post. What the eye saw, in other words, the mind fathomed, whether his hand was dipped in the blood of slain mujahideen or held a test tube with microorganisms from outer space. Grinding his teeth as the warning siren blared, he slung the AK-74 assault rifle across his shoulder. Ignorance might truly prove bliss.
Or would it? he had to wonder as he torqued himself to a double-time march, propelled by a heady blend of fear, anxiety and excitement, heard his lieutenants of Command Red Lightning barking for the conscripts and the science detail beyond the steel door to move faster for the transport helicopters. This was his command, his protectorate in this remote and desolate abyss of Tajikistan, after all, the responsibility heaped square on his shoulders to get to the bottom of what had traveled from deep space to previously land in Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Kyrgystan. And what was now breaching Earthâs atmosphere was neither comet, falling star, meteor shower nor any other space phenomenon identified by Man. If it played true to prior andâwhat, supernatural?âform, it would not only swamp roughly a dozen square acres, as it had in each of the former Soviet republics, thus forcing a military quarantine, but chances were the event would sear yet another terrifying memory at the sight of human beingsâ¦
He shuddered, shoved away the frightening images, cursing the young soldier who allowed the door to thud shut, near smashing his scowl to pulp. Forget the angry albeit sorry fact Moscow had dumped him in hostile country that made his former Chechen post look a Black Sea resort by comparison, the Minister of Defense wanted answers to mysteries that came from another galaxy, perhaps another world, even another dimension, if he believed what his astronomers told him about black holes, shrinking mass and evolving protostars.
Tajikistan, he knew, was marked off by the political and military barons of Moscow as a buffer zone between the Muslim extremists of Afghanistan and Russia, but another image easily leaped to mind when he thought about his woeful post. As Moscowâs man in-country, braving the cold, fighting drug traffickers, often engaged in pitched battles with both rebels and narcothugsâand often both were one and the sameâhe saw Tajikistan as a vast moat between Afghanistan and Russia, teeming with crocodilesâhungry and poised to devour those who would further erode the moral fiber of his country with the slow white death or outright attacking Mother Russia through terrorism and sabotage.