“And it’s getting interesting, is it?”
“Your Delta Green just took off from whatever the hell they’re calling it, the base in Kampuchea.”
“You’re certain?”
“The satellite picked out a MakoShark shape in the runway lights, and she disappeared right after takeoff. Six minutes later, we picked up an infrared signature for two minutes. She’s off the ground.”
“Thanks, Walt.”
Pearson disconnected by pressing the keypad, then checked the time readout on the panel that had been set for Kampuchea. The time there was 0013 hours.
She was the duty officer in the Command Center while Overton caught up on his sleep. With the loss of Will Avery, she and Overton had revised their schedules. Giving up her view through the porthole of the white-capped and cloud-swirled Himalayas, she spun around to look at the compartment status board on the interior bulkhead.
The board listed every compartment aboard Themis, and variously colored LEDs indicated vacancy, occupancy, and environmental conditions. Of the six dedicated MakoShark hangars, four were reported as occupied. All of the MakoSharks were still in residence, though they were due to launch at any minute.
She depressed the public address keypad for the hangar section.
“Colonel McKenna, Command.”
A few minutes later, McKenna called her back, “What’s up, Amy?”
“Delta Green. NSA just reported her takeoff from Kampuchea.”
“Damn it!”
“You’d better hold off,” she said.
“Call the crews to the exercise room, would you?”
She hit the PA button. “1st Aerospace air crews to Compartment A-47 immediately.”
She made the announcement a second time, then told Donna Amber that she would join the briefing. Amber promised to wake Overton.
Traversing the spoke, the outer rim of the hub, and the main corridor, Pearson arrived at the exercise room before the stragglers pulled themselves inside. Munoz was last.
They were all dressed in their white environmental suits, minus helmets. McKenna, however, appeared Darth Vaderish. Benny Shalbot had wrapped his suit with matte black tape. It wasn’t a very good job, and he looked a trifle ragged. Munoz had dubbed him the stealth version of humankind.
Pearson found a place against one bulkhead next to Lynn Haggar.
“Anything new on the United Nations demands, Amy?” McKenna asked.
“No,” she said. “The Kampuchean government has not responded in any way to the expulsion request, and the New World Order has not responded to the demand to relinquish the space station.”
McKenna told them about the NSA surveillance.
“When’d she take off?” Dimatta asked.
Pearson looked at her watch. “About fifteen minutes ago, Frank.”
“We could still go,” he said.
“And possibly get caught right in the middle of the operation,” Haggar said. “We agreed to time it for when all the weaknesses were aligned. And Delta Green was the primary concern.”
“If we wait much longer,” McKenna said, “they end up with two half-fledged ICBMs in place. The odds say Delta Green’s transporting the rest of the second rocket. The odds also say the longer we wait, the worse it gets.”
Pearson realized that she had been hoping he would put it off until they could positively identify Delta Green on the ground once again.
She felt her heartbeat pick up tempo. McKenna appeared menacing in his doctored environmental suit, but also vulnerable.
“Tony,” McKenna said, “what’s the timing?”
“Last time I checked, jefe, we can catch Soyuz in about fifty minutes. Dependin’ on the window they caught, Delta Green is probably a couple hours away from a rendezvous. It’ll be tight.”
“Should we check with Admiral Gross?” Pearson asked.
“No,” McKenna said. “It’s my call. We’re going.” McKenna rolled a half-dozen cut-off straws into his fist, then coasted his way to each of the spacecraft commanders. Conover, Dimatta, and Haggar each pulled one straw from the bundle.
“Let’s see them,” McKenna said.
They each held up the various lengths.
“Okay, Lynn. You’re flying cover for me. Will, you’ve got Target One, and Frank, you’ll be lead for Target Two.” Dimatta said, “Trade you straws, Lynn.”
“No way.”
“Green’s going to be up there.”
“My luck holds,” she said.
Dimatta sighed. “What about the kids, Kevin?”
“All we can do is our best, Frank. I think that anyone in a position to make a decision is going to say that a few kids are an even trade for a city full of people.”
“Shit.”
Pearson spoke up. “Maybe I can do something about the kids.”
“We set, Swede?” Haggar asked.
“Go, Country.”
She fired the forward thrusters, and Delta Red backed slowly out of the hangar. Glancing through the canopy, she saw the other MakoSharks sliding out of their cells alongside her. It could have been thrilling, the four spacecraft flying in formation, but the tremendous weight of the mission killed the thrill.
“Hot mikes,” McKenna ordered, and she pressed the corresponding keypad.
“Red.”
“Yellow.”
“Orange, here.”
“Spread it out a little, Deltas. We don’t want accidental collisions.”
As Themis grew smaller, Haggar tapped the thrusters, easing into a new attitude and direction. Delta Red rose away from the other three MakoSharks.
She checked the wings of the others; Blue wore white triangles, Yellow was adorned with squares, and Orange sported somewhat sloppy circles. Her own wings carried triple bars.
The taped symbols on Yellow and Orange wouldn’t survive the reentry heat.
She and Olsen went quickly through the checklist, and he programmed the computer with the data they had developed aboard the space station.
“Who have we got on the net?” McKenna asked.
“Semaphore” David Thorpe’s voice.
“Alpha,” Overton said.
“Wet Country,” Milt Avery replied.
“Welcome to McKenna’s Flying Circus,” Olsen said, but he said it on the ICS.
“Semaphore, Blue. Any last-minute changes from the diplomatic corps?”
“None, Blue,” Thorpe said. “Weapons are released, and you are cleared to engage”
“Deltas Yellow and Orange will operate on Tac Three,” McKenna said. “You may proceed to reentry now, but do not, repeat not, go into phase two until you hear from me or from Delta Red.”
“Roger,” Conover said.
“Roger that, Orange is gone.”
Haggar leaned to the side of the cockpit and watched as both MakoSharks turned end-over-end and fired their rockets. Both of them immediately dropped behind and out of sight.
“On Tiger’s mark, Country,” McKenna said.
“Roger.”
“Computer’s set,” Olsen said. “At your command.”
She saw the celestial coordinates listed on the HUD readout. They were supposed to be a mile away from those of Delta Blue. She poised her forefinger over the “RKT THRST” pad on the keyboard.
“Countin’,” Munoz said. “Five, four, three, two, one, mark!”
She pressed the keypad and, seconds later, felt the thrust of the rocket motors. The nose lifted, and the MakoShark closed on Themis once again, climbing high over the station. On her left, a half-mile away, she saw Delta Blue keeping pace, but slowly drifting away from them.
The rocket motors shut down after fifty seconds, and the silence of space enveloped her. Somehow, the quiet was tremendously reassuring, despite the lethal nature of the journey.
Haggar took several deep breaths and tried to relax. It would be a little while yet.