"I know. I met him last night." She turned and stared. "We had a small misunderstanding."
"Well, let's see if he's still in any condition to fly."
"You mean?"
"How else? You got any better ideas, I'd like to hear them."
Yuri Androv had worked his way through the carnage of the explosion, the scattered remains of Tanzan Mino's phalanx of kobun, to again bend over the form of his father. Once more the cloud of obscuring mist was flowing over the scene, blanking it.
At that moment, however, a pale glow laid itself around them, the murky light of overcast dawn. Vance realized the Soviet technicians had thrown open the hangar doors and were scrambling out onto the tarmac.
Good, let them. We might just follow suit.
Now Yuri Andreevich Androv was approaching, clasping his right arm.
"We've got to get him fixed," Vance said briskly, looking him over, "put on a tourniquet."
"Think he can still fly?"
"I say we make him fly."
With his left hand Androv peeled back his helmet visor and kissed Eva. "Spacebo," he said in Russian, "you did what I would have done if I'd had a weapon. But now I don't know what—"
"How's your arm?" Vance cut in. "We've got to make a decision right now. When the reinforcements arrive, it's game over. One little Uzi won't handle their firepower."
Androv frowned. "Can you fly?"
"Never handled anything bigger than a Lear," Vance replied. "And then only as copilot."
It didn't seem to matter. Androv glanced at the open door of the Personnel Module and motioned to them.
"Then come on. Let's hurry." Now he was searching the hangar. Finally he spotted the man he wanted.
"Pavel," he yelled in Russian, "have the starter trolleys been engaged yet?"
"Da," came the reply.
"Then prepare Daedalus I for power-up and get the hell out. We're go for rpm."
"What do you mean? The tow trucks haven't even been—"
"Forget the tow trucks. It's going to be afterburners, right here. Get the rest of your people in the clear."
Afterburners were rings of nozzles that sprayed fuel into the superheated exhaust gases of a jet engine, creating a burst of power. In military aircraft they were used to produce surges in thrust during takeoff and dogfights.
"Afterburners! In the hangar. Yuri, all the hydrogen storage tanks could blow. You'd destroy Daedalus II. Just incinerate it."
"That's the idea." He was already mounting the steps of the Personnel Module, not looking back. "There's only going to be one plane left. The one I take."
"The computer." Eva had started up the steps, but then she froze and turned back, handing Vance the Uzi. "I have to get it."
"There's no time." He reached for the weapon, its muzzle still hot. "We've got—"
"Michael, I didn't come this far just to let the protocol slip through our fingers." She was running past him now, back down. "Only take a second."
He knew it was pointless to argue. And besides, maybe she was right. Who knew where they'd end up?
Now Androv had faltered and was leaning shakily against the open doorway of the module, the right sleeve of his pressure suit covered in blood. Vance took advantage of the ticking moments to step up and examine it.
"You need a bandage." He started tearing away the synthetic cloth. "Or better yet, a tourniquet."
"No." Androv glanced at his arm and grimaced. "There's not—"
"You're going on adrenaline right now, my friend. But when the shock wears off…" He looked around the interior of the module, but there was nothing to cut with, so he just ripped away a large portion of Androv's sleeve and parted the material. A savage furrow was sliced across his bicep.
"I don't want you to pass out." He tore a section of the sleeve into a strip and then, struggling with his heavy gloves, began binding it above the wound. The hangar was still bedlam, people running and yelling on every side, alarms sounding. As he was finishing the tourniquet, Eva came bounding up the metal steps carrying her Zenith. They were ready.
Androv quickly secured the door and activated the controls. Through a smoke-smeared window they watched the bloody hangar floor disappear into the haze. The world suddenly turned dreamlike, an unreality highlighted by the soft whoosh of the pneumatic lift beneath them. Then the module lurched to a halt.
Vance led the way through the open hatch. "Looks like somebody forgot and left the lights on."
"Pavel told me the starter trolleys were engaged," Androv said in Russian as he climbed through, then stepped down. He continued in English. "Petra can initiate power-up."
"Petra?" Vance turned back. "You mean the—"
"Our copilot." He pointed toward a large liquid crystal screen at the far end of the cabin, now blank. "I want to try and use her to override Flight Control for the rest of the sequence."
"Short circuit the countdown?"
"I've never done it, but…" He walked over and reached down to flip a square blue switch on the right-hand console. "Let's see if she's awake this morning."
He glanced up as the screen blinked on and a large black-and-white double-ax logo materialized, set against the red and white of a Japanese flag. Next he pushed a button on the sidestick and spoke.
"Petra, report countdown status."
“All preflight sequences nominal.” The eerie, mechanical sound of a woman's voice, speaking Russian, filled the space. “Do you acknowledge?”
"Affirmative," he answered back. "You will now initiate ignition sequence. Bypass remaining countdown procedure."
“That is an override command. Please give authorization code.”
"Code P-18. Systems emergency."
“The countdown is now T minus nineteen minutes twenty-eight seconds. All systems are nominal. Therefore Code P-18 is not a valid command.”
"Shit," he whispered under his breath. "Petra, verify P-18 with Flight Control." He paused for a split second, then pushed a button on the console and commanded, "Abort instruction." Another pause, then, "Repeat verify abort command for N equals one over zero."
"What was that?" Eva was wedging her laptop under the left-hand G-seat.
"I think, I hope I just put her command-monitor function into an infinite loop. She'll just continuously start and stop the verification procedure. Maybe it'll render that subroutine incapable of blocking the other system functions."
"You're going to confuse her head? Good luck."
He settled himself in the central seat, then reached up and began unlatching the huge flight helmet. As he did, his eyes were suddenly flooded with grief.
"They killed him." He paused for a moment and just stared. Vance thought he'd finally become befuddled from the shock. But then he choked back his emotion and continued. "We're going on the deck. Under their goddam radar."
"What did you say?" Vance strained to catch his words. The English was slurred.
He seemed to grow faint, his consciousness wane, but he finally revived as he finished yanking the giant helmet down over his head.
Vance's headphones came alive as he heard the Russian. "Daedalus I to Control. Do you read? I am now bringing up core rpm for starboard cluster, outboard trident." A second later, he continued, "We have S-O ignition."
"Yuri," came a startled radio voice, "what in hell is going on! You can't—"
"Portside cluster, outboard. Rpm up," he continued in Russian, his voice halting. "We have P-O ignition."
"Yuri, you can't—?"
"Starboard cluster, inboard. Bringing up. Portside cluster, inboard—"
"Androv, for godsake, have you gone mad?"
"Sergei, I told them to clear the hangar. I'm taking her to full power."