Read Online All the Colors of Time by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff
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re-materialized in semi-darkness and stiffened in
apprehension. The wave of anxiety passed at the pressure of Hilyard’s fingers
on his arm.
They were standing on a narrow catwalk. What light there was
in the vaulted room seemed to be coming from below. Figures moving about the
room cast eerie, elongated shadows onto the curving ceiling. Caldwell and
Hilyard moved in unison to the steel railing at the edge of the carpeted walk,
Caldwell looking back to make certain the move left them inside the
invisibility range.
Below and beneath was a large horseshoe-shaped chamber
bathed in mellow gold light and populated by uniformed soldiers.
Computer-generated maps alternated with video screens along
the curving walls, while in the heart of the room were several computer
stations. Directly at center was what looked like a huge holo-tank built on a
square footprint. It displayed what looked like a topographical relief rendered
in some sort of anodized, black metal. Between the top and bottom of the unit,
hung a shimmering curtain of colored light. Next to that mystery stood a figure
with what appeared to be an admiral’s insignia on its shoulders.
Caldwell frowned. The uniform was an unfamiliar silvery-blue
unrecognizable as being from any branch of the military. The rank suggested
Navy, but...
He scanned the other figures. Several, apparently officers,
also wore the silver-blue, others wore a vivid shade between royal blue and
midnight. From his high vantage point, he saw nothing of their faces; only the
tops of heads covered with unfamiliar caps.
Before he could solve the puzzle, one of the blue-suited
soldiers seated at a computer terminal turned and said, “Commander, we’re
receiving new data on the Northern Front. It looks like a much bigger push than
we anticipated.”
“On screen, Tech Newman.”
Caldwell stiffened. It was a woman’s voice. He’d never
objected to women entering the service—but in a War Room? Still, that the War
Room was here at all was heartening. One of the wall maps came suddenly to life.
Caldwell’s eyes flew to it and widened in surprise. Across a green
representation of the United States and Canada, swept a coruscating swathe of
gold, orange and red, its southern edge pressing as far south as Montana. On
the east, it reached greedy fingers of glowing hues toward the Great Lakes.
“My God,” Caldwell breathed awfully.
Hilyard glanced at him and tapped his ear.
The General barely noticed him. What nation could field such
a massive front, let alone push it all the way into the northern states? He
licked his lips, wondering what they were fighting it with.
“Have all the warnings gone out?” the Admiral asked.
“Yes, sir. Forty-eight hours before the leading edge. Status
reports are already coming in; everybody’s battening down for the duration.”
The Admiral nodded. “When will the leading edge reach
Yosemite?”
The technician plied his keyboard for an instant, then
consulted his monitor. “Approximately twenty-four hours, sir. They’ve been
advised.”
Twenty-four hours?
What army could move that fast? Maybe it was a weapon of some sort.
Nuclear? No, too widespread. Chemical? Biological? How could they remain so
calm in the face of such vast destruction—as if it was everyday fare. This
looked like . . . Armageddon.
“Thank you, Newman,” the Admiral was saying. “Mr. Mendez?”
“Yes, sir.” Another technician glanced up from her console.
“Are you in communication with Yosemite Base?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is their status?”
“Heavily embattled, sir,” answered the slightly accented
voice. “Commander Li says the situation is barely under control.”
“Visual reference,” ordered the Admiral.
Next to the huge map, a video panel pulsed on. Nothing
showed upon it but billowing smoke and flames. So faintly he wasn’t certain he’d
really seen them, Caldwell’s eyes caught the movement of bodies plummeting
through the fog-thick smoke. The
apprehension. The wave of anxiety passed at the pressure of Hilyard’s fingers
on his arm.
They were standing on a narrow catwalk. What light there was
in the vaulted room seemed to be coming from below. Figures moving about the
room cast eerie, elongated shadows onto the curving ceiling. Caldwell and
Hilyard moved in unison to the steel railing at the edge of the carpeted walk,
Caldwell looking back to make certain the move left them inside the
invisibility range.
Below and beneath was a large horseshoe-shaped chamber
bathed in mellow gold light and populated by uniformed soldiers.
Computer-generated maps alternated with video screens along
the curving walls, while in the heart of the room were several computer
stations. Directly at center was what looked like a huge holo-tank built on a
square footprint. It displayed what looked like a topographical relief rendered
in some sort of anodized, black metal. Between the top and bottom of the unit,
hung a shimmering curtain of colored light. Next to that mystery stood a figure
with what appeared to be an admiral’s insignia on its shoulders.
Caldwell frowned. The uniform was an unfamiliar silvery-blue
unrecognizable as being from any branch of the military. The rank suggested
Navy, but...
He scanned the other figures. Several, apparently officers,
also wore the silver-blue, others wore a vivid shade between royal blue and
midnight. From his high vantage point, he saw nothing of their faces; only the
tops of heads covered with unfamiliar caps.
Before he could solve the puzzle, one of the blue-suited
soldiers seated at a computer terminal turned and said, “Commander, we’re
receiving new data on the Northern Front. It looks like a much bigger push than
we anticipated.”
“On screen, Tech Newman.”
Caldwell stiffened. It was a woman’s voice. He’d never
objected to women entering the service—but in a War Room? Still, that the War
Room was here at all was heartening. One of the wall maps came suddenly to life.
Caldwell’s eyes flew to it and widened in surprise. Across a green
representation of the United States and Canada, swept a coruscating swathe of
gold, orange and red, its southern edge pressing as far south as Montana. On
the east, it reached greedy fingers of glowing hues toward the Great Lakes.
“My God,” Caldwell breathed awfully.
Hilyard glanced at him and tapped his ear.
The General barely noticed him. What nation could field such
a massive front, let alone push it all the way into the northern states? He
licked his lips, wondering what they were fighting it with.
“Have all the warnings gone out?” the Admiral asked.
“Yes, sir. Forty-eight hours before the leading edge. Status
reports are already coming in; everybody’s battening down for the duration.”
The Admiral nodded. “When will the leading edge reach
Yosemite?”
The technician plied his keyboard for an instant, then
consulted his monitor. “Approximately twenty-four hours, sir. They’ve been
advised.”
Twenty-four hours?
What army could move that fast? Maybe it was a weapon of some sort.
Nuclear? No, too widespread. Chemical? Biological? How could they remain so
calm in the face of such vast destruction—as if it was everyday fare. This
looked like . . . Armageddon.
“Thank you, Newman,” the Admiral was saying. “Mr. Mendez?”
“Yes, sir.” Another technician glanced up from her console.
“Are you in communication with Yosemite Base?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is their status?”
“Heavily embattled, sir,” answered the slightly accented
voice. “Commander Li says the situation is barely under control.”
“Visual reference,” ordered the Admiral.
Next to the huge map, a video panel pulsed on. Nothing
showed upon it but billowing smoke and flames. So faintly he wasn’t certain he’d
really seen them, Caldwell’s eyes caught the movement of bodies plummeting
through the fog-thick smoke. The
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