The airfield at Fairbanks was busy with traffic landing and showed recently added antiaircraft defenses and dugouts, still being worked on in places. A tense but purposeful atmosphere prevailed in the terminal building during the four-hour stopover. There were a lot of evacuees from the fighting areas in the continental states to the south, some dispersing in Alaska, others en route to more distant destinations in Asia. One family that Cade talked to were from Chicago, which had become a scene of street-to-street fighting, with the Sears Tower and other high-rise observation points heavily damaged.
Communications were restricted, with military and official use getting priority. Apparently, there had been much attrition of Federation-controlled satellites. The Asians were rumored to be providing additional capacity, but so far it wasn’t making up the difference. Cade was unable to put a call through to Marie at the house, although he did leave a message with Wyvex at the Hyadean mission saying they were on their way. The mission seemed to be functioning in some kind of autonomous role, independent of the official Hyadean presence in Washington. It seemed that Orzin was in charge, but Cade couldn’t quite figure out where he stood amid the shifting politics.
The flight down the Canadian coast passed without incident. One of the crew told Cade that the plane was fitted with “special” equipment to confuse the Hyadean surveillance satellites. It implied a degree of cooperation from at least some faction of the aliens. Interesting, he and Hudro agreed between themselves. Hudro wasn’t sure what to make of it.
* * *
They landed at March Air Force Base, thirty miles east of Los Angeles, at around the middle of the day following their departure from Beijing. It presented the same scene of recently initiated defenses and protective works that Cade had seen in Bolivia and Alaska. This time, however, he was startled to see evidence of actual attacks. The hulks of about a dozen burned-out aircraft had been bulldozed off the cratered apron area, which was still being cleared and repaired. Parts of the base facilities and hangars had been destroyed, with damage extending to surrounding buildings and houses. The regular control tower was demolished, and a temporary structure erected alongside the remains, while a dispersed annex of army tents and trailers kept other essential services functioning.
A bus painted Air Force gray took the arrivals to a section of the terminal buildings that had survived, where they went through the routine of presenting papers and answering questions for a clerk completing forms at a folding table. When it came to Cade and Hudro’s turn, a tall woman with black hair piled high and tied in a band detached herself from the knot of people waiting in the background and came forward. It took Cade a moment to recognize her, in the slacks and unadorned zipper jacket that she was wearing over a military-style shirt, as Clara Norburn, once the fashion-conscious, upwardly mobile star of the former state governor’s office. The last time Cade saw her, she had been talking about ways of marketing California’s high-tech skills profitably on Chryse for the state’s benefit. She nodded to an inquiring look from the clerk processing the papers and murmured, “Yes, these are the ones. It’s been taken care of,” then looked at Cade while the clerk initialed boxes and appended stamps. “Welcome back, Roland. You’ve been getting around. Into some trouble too, I see.” Cade still had marks on his face, a remaining light dressing, and patches of regrowing stubble from the injuries he’d received in Brazil. “How is it looking?”
Cade grinned. “It’s rumored that I’ll live. You people haven’t been exactly idle here yourselves. I leave you alone for a few weeks and look at the trouble you’ve gotten yourselves into already.” One of the men in the group at the back was with Clara. Cade introduced Hudro. “What happened to the socialite?” He waved at Clara’s appearance. “You look as if you’ve taken up driving a truck.”
“I guess personal aggrandizement got put on the back burner. We’ve all got a common cause now.” They began walking toward a double door at the end of the room.