“I’ll make you a deal. Lieutenant. You give me one good hydraulic system all the way to Florida, and I’ll buy the tickets to Disneyworld.”
“You’re on’ responded Jake before sealing the bargain with a handshake.
Coach left the cockpit, and as he entered the upper-deck rest area, he spotted Brittany in the galley, making a fresh pot of coffee.
“That’s just what the doctor ordered,” he greeted her with a tired smile.
“Be forewarned that it’s brewed Navy style,” returned Brittany.
“With two parts coffee to every one of water.”
“Pour on,” Coach instructed.
He initiated a series of stretching exercises while the coffee brewed. He then accepted a mug from Brittany, and joined her in the adjoining booth.
“How are you holding up. Commander?” he asked after taking a tentative sip of the piping-hot brew.
The cabin roughly vibrated, and Brittany held back her reply until the shaking ceased.
“To tell you the truth, I’m scared, confused, and stressed out to the max.”
“Don’t feel alone,” said Coach sincerely.
Again the cabin rattled, this time so violently that the pilot’s coffee spilled over his mug’s ceramic rim.
“How much longer can this plane hold together?” asked Brittany, her voice strained on the edge of full panic.
Coach reached out and supportively grasped her hand.
“Hang in there, my friend. The Boeing 747 is the greatest aircraft ever built, and this one’s no different. They’re designed to take a remarkable amount of punishment, with the human component more prone to failure than the mechanical systems.”
Brittany managed a brave smile, and she squeezed his palm, then pulled her hand free and picked up her coffee mug.
“Speaking of the human component,” she said between sips, “what do you think the Chairman’s up to, and why hasn’t he tried to retake the flight deck?”
“Right now, I’d say he’s busy getting the comm systems back on line, and consolidating his forces. It’s not in his best interest to interfere with our operations up here. Admiral Warner might be a political deviant, but he’s no fool. He knows that this airplane has taken a beating, and my best guess is that he won’t try to pay us another visit until we’re on the ground.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, not again!” protested Red from the aft portion of the compartment.
Both Coach and Brittany turned around to see what was bothering her, and they watched as Red tore off her headset and stood.
“What’s the matter. Sergeant? Having more transmission problems?” Coach questioned.
Red walked over to their booth to explain the reason for her frustration.
“I’m getting a clear line out, all right, sir. But the problem lies with the party I’m trying to reach. After querying Lord only knows how many directory assistance operators, I finally got the number to the Shuttle Landing Facility. And would you believe, all I get is an answering machine saying that when there are no shuttle flights in progress, the tower closes at ten p.m. and won’t reopen until eight in the morning.”
“Can we land without those runway lights?” Brittany asked.
Coach momentarily ignored this question and addressed Red instead.
“Sergeant, try getting hold of the Air Force range control center at the Cape. They’re surely manned around the clock, and we’ll rely on our boys in blue to get those NASA folks out of bed and have that shuttle runway lit up for us.
“Cause we’re gonna need all the help we can get, and then some.”
Chapter 62
Shortly after they left the cavern holding the bats, Thomas began having serious second doubts about their rather rash decision to follow Ranger Glickman. A narrow rock ledge conveyed them deeper into the deathly quiet underground realm. It was a steep, twisting, circuitous route, made all the more treacherous because of the slick rock they were forced to tread upon.
They were using up valuable time, with no guarantee that their efforts would succeed in locating a back entrance to the government facility. Thomas wondered how Ted Callahan and the Sappers were progressing. Surely their explosives had breached the main entryway by now, and they must be well on their way into the cavern themselves.
Thomas took yet another look at the luminescent dial of his wristwatch, and decided to wait until half past the hour before calling a halt to reconsider their options. They were currently transiting a narrow tunnel that was covered with several inches of water. He had to be careful not to hit his head on the projecting rock, and twice he almost fell after losing his footing on a slick spot.
The black expanse seemed to go on forever, and he was somewhat surprised when it suddenly opened up into a larger room. They halted here on an elevated overlook, and their escort used her flashlight to illuminate the interior of an immense cavern, easily three times the size of the one holding the bats.
With his own flashlight Thomas surveyed the hundreds of crystalline stalactites that hung from the cathedral-like ceiling.
Many of these dagger-shaped formations extended for a good fifty feet, until they almost touched the pointed stalagmites that had formed on the spacious floor.
Altogether, it was an awe-inspiring sight, and had a certain reverence to it. For this was an alien, subterranean world, the likes of which Thomas had never experienced before.
“How much further is the river?” asked Captain Christian, the muffled roar of cascading water clearly audible in the distance.
“We only need to climb down to the floor of the cavern, and then we should see it,” answered their guide, who added somewhat hesitantly, “please remember that this is as far as I’ve ever explored this system. My colleagues are the ones who kept on going at this point, and it’s their reports of a decent trail along the river that I’m relying on.”
Thomas looked at his watch again, then shared his thoughts with the senior MP.
“Captain, I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to wonder if this route is in fact going to lead us to our goal.”
Christian raised his compass and orientated it toward the river.
“If the stream’s course runs true, that’s the general direction where we left Colonel Callahan and the Sappers.”
“And hopefully, the facility will be somewhere in between,” added Jody Glickman.
Thomas readjusted the fit of the nylon holster that was clipped to his web belt. Then he somewhat reluctantly signaled the ranger to lead on.
Doc Martin instinctively knew that this was one engagement he would most likely never survive. He had already taken a pair of hits to his left shoulder and right calf. Having been shot several times before, he understood that his first challenge was to survive the initial shock. He did so with the help of a deep-breathing technique the Yards had taught him. A pair of cotton compresses temporarily stopped the bleeding, and he resolutely re gripped the stock of his M60, ever ready to delay the oncoming enemy force the best he could.
Two members of his team had already gone down, leaving only a single trooper other than himself to return fire. From the characteristic report of the man’s weapon, he realized that the survivor was Chief Roe. Against Doc’s advice, the hefty Texan had selected one of the newfangled squad automatic weapons from the assortment of armaments they had recently stolen from Fort Leonard Wood. Though Doc stuck with a trusty M60, Roe was eager to try out one of the SAWs, which was the weapon of choice of today’s high-tech Army. And so far, he had to admit, considering the constant fire that Roe was able to effect, the SAW was proving to be extremely reliable.
A grenade detonated nearby, and Doc waited for the shrapnel to expend itself before he dared to poke his head out of the rock crevice in which he was hidden. He quickly ducked upon spotting the muzzle flashes of at least six M16s. The soldiers firing these weapons were rounding the bend where the ambush had been initiated. They were moving quickly, in an assault-train formation, and were concentrating their fire on Chief Roe’s position alongside the opposite wall.