They laid the bike on its side next to a mesquite bush and walked the rest of the way to the fence. The twisties holding the fence together hadn't been disturbed in the three days since they'd broken in to start the flow of hydrogen. Thunder Ridge was fifteen miles away, and the sounds of the compressor and turbo expander were lost in the howl of the desert wind.
"Damn moon," Harry muttered. "I like moonlight, but there's too damn much of it."
Nearly full, Bob Needleton thought.
By God! Ten hours! Dawn tomorrow, and I'm up and out of here, off this Earth. If my heart doesn't pound so damn hard it wakes up the guards… Sherrine would be going, too, but not the way he'd thought. Oh, well. I get the best consolation prize there is. Free trip, too. Four seats, and one's mine!
The Hydrogen Valve building had its own fence, but there was a gate from that area into the main Dryden compound. Harry inspected the gate and its lock, then whispered, "Damn good lock. It might be easier to cut a hole in the fence, but that'll be more noticeable when there's light. What should I do?"
"Whatever's quickest. By the time there's light everyone in the country will know." Bob took out his wire cutters and started in.
Room G-44 was in a temporary building constructed in the glory days of the 1950s. Like the engineering room on Thunder Ridge, it had space for far more desks and drawing boards than it held. Even so, many of the desks seemed unused.
A bank of three security cabinets stood against one wall. Harry went over and rubbed his hands in anticipation. "The middle one," he said. He ostentatiously took out a nail file and began to rub it over his fingertips. "No sandpaper--"
"Harry, damn it, get on with it," Needleton whispered. "Right." Harry opened the tool kit and took out a drill, pliers, crowbar. "Well--here goes--but you know, just in case--"
"What?"
Harry pulled on the drawer. It opened.
"Like I said, just in case. And there's your gizmo, I think." He lifted' out a plastic box and set it on the desk. "Let's see--"
"Harry, be careful, don't drop it--"
"Not me. Yep." He took out a smaller box that had been nested in foam packing. "And here we are. One IMU--"
The room lights came on.
"Harry, damn you--" Needleton shouted.
"Me?"
"Hello-o!"
They turned. An Air Force captain in combat fatigues stood at the door. The captain's submachine gun didn't quite point at either Harry or Needleton.
"Oh, shit," Harry said.
"Now what?" Needleton said. He eyed the distance to the gun. There were two desks in the way. He glanced at Harry, who nodded slightly.
"Death will not release you," the captain intoned. The submachine gun was pointing straight at Harry's navel.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A Fire in the Sky
Jenny Trout stared down the road. "Where the hell are they?"
"Maybe the lock was tougher than Harry thought," Sherrine said.
"It wouldn't be the lock," Jenny said. "Harry's good with locks. I'm sure glad Bob went along. Where the hell are they?"
"There's something coming." A light, a long way away. Fantastic, how far you could see out here.
"Two lights! It's a car!" Jenny shouted. "Get Hudson."
"Jenny, for God's sake put that gun away!" Sherrine said. "Gary!"
C.C. Miller came running out of the office. "Jenny, for God's sake, shooting people isn't the answer to everything!"
"Cissy, sometimes it is!"
"Not this time," Gary Hudson said. "Look, if you start a firefight there'll be a hundred Air Police up here long before any possible launch window." He stared moodily at the approaching headlights. "Whatever we do, it has to be done quietly."
"Oh. Okay." Jenny put the gun back in her boot.
Miller edged closer to Fang and spoke in a low urgent voice. "Stay with her, just in case."
"We can't just give up now!"
"No, and we won't," Miller said. "But there're more ways to futter a cat than just to stuff its head in a sea boot."
"Eh?"
"Ted Sturgeon's other law. Just go wait with Jenny."
The car was a small gray sedan, totally inconspicuous if you didn't notice that it had six antennas. It pulled up in the pool of light in front of the office, and Bob Needleton got out on the driver's side. He was moving slowly, carefully. Harry got out of the passenger's side, moving e same way, as if they were underwater.
"What the hell is going on?" Gary Hudson demanded. Somebody slid out of the back seat, lithe and quick like a striking shark.
Bob Needleton said, carefully, "Gary Hudson, this is Captain, Lee Arteria, U.S.A.F. Office of Special Investigations."
"Oh, shit--"
"Death will not release you." Captain Arteria's voice carried even over the roar of the let engine. Headlights glowed on the intruder's blue uniform and compact machine gun and sharp white smile. The Air Police captain moved like a man in free fall, Alex thought. Like Steve Mews. Strong and dangerous.
Harry Czescu and Bob Needleton had stopped moving. The night seemed to wait. C.C. cleared his throat and said, "Even if you die."
"Pay your dues! Pay your dues!" Was that a man's
voice or a woman's?
"Lee Arteria?"
"Right. You're… Miller? C.C. Miller. Director of the LASFS.
"Chairman now," Miller said.
Gary Hudson demanded, "Will someone please tell me--"
"She's a LASFS member," Miller said.
"Or was," Bob Needleton said.
Lee Arteria said, "Nobody leaves the LASFS. Death did not release me, nor fafiation. It took me a while to figure that out."
"Which is all very well, but where is the IMU?" Hudson said.
"I have it here." Arteria handed across a box. She held her weapon like a prosthetic attachment. Hudson took the box while trying to evade the machine gun's snout.
"And you better get it installed fast." Arteria glanced at her watch. "It's twenty-three forty-two now. By oh-eight-hundred, oh-eight-thirty tops, this place will be crawling with police. OSI, blues, Greens, Army, Immigration agents, Post Office inspectors for all I know."
"Yes. OK." Gary Hudson held the box gingerly, like a hot potato. Small wonder, Alex thought, considering what--who--had come attached to it. "Okay. And, Alex, you'd better tell Jenny to stand down."
Alex went.
The hangar was larger from inside than it had looked from across the ride. Phoenix stood proudly, enshrouded by scaffolds now. They turned on all the lights. That was safer than using flashlights. Furtive lights might be investigated immediately. Working lights could wait until morning.
"God, it's beautiful," Lee said.
"Not as beautiful as when she flies," Hudson said.
"It really will work, then."
Hudson gave her a sour look. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but you're about the hundredth person to ask that. Yes, Phoenix is ready. More precisely, I'm enough convinced that it will work that I'm going up with it."
Hudson took the IMU and climbed up into the well above one of the landing legs. The opening was barely large enough to admit him. A few moments later he came out far enough to take a wrench out of his pocket, then climbed back in. Finally he emerged with a big grin.
"All's well?" Lee Arteria asked.
Hudson grinned wider. "Yeah. Now let's check things out." He led the way up the ladder.
The cabin was crowded. The only empty spaces were the four seats, which could just be reached from above. Chickens protested the disturbance when Hudson turned on the lights. Lee watched from the hatchway as Hudson wormed into the command chair and pulled the panel toward him. He threw switches. Lights blinked yellow, then green, and the readout screen came alive. Hudson typed furiously at the keyboard.