“He’s no expert but he said they’ve got the potential to cause a big bang. Security’s already issued me a report on how they could take the shuttle back. We’ve got contingencies for this sort of—”
“No!” the President ordered. “Under no circumstances will you do anything of the kind. You don’t know who we’re dealing with here. Just trust me.”
“That’s what McCracken said.”
“Well, maybe we should.”
“Sir?”
“Patch a line through to him for me, Nate. Let’s hear what he’s got to say.”
“We tried to locate you after you called in from Newport,” the President told Blaine minutes later. “Stimson’s death knocked us for a loop. We didn’t realize it was you he was still running.”
“Somebody made it hard for me to drop by. As they say, there’s a price on my head.”
“Placed by whom?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve still got fifty-one minutes until your launch.”
And Blaine highlighted as best he could the events of the last ten days from Easton’s discovery and subsequent murder, to its connection with Sahhan and the PVR; from the shootout at Madame Rosa’s, to his trip to Paris which led him to San Melas and Krayman Industries’ second army. Here he switched tracks to the discoveries made by Sandy Lister, confirmed and elaborated on by Simon Terrell. Finally, Blaine related the events on Horse Neck Island and his subsequent trip to Florida. In all, the story took twenty minutes to tell, a labyrinth journey of death and violence leading, perhaps irrevocably, to a new system of order in the United States.
“And you say these Krayman people are everywhere?” the President asked.
“They’re Hollins people now but, yes, everywhere it matters. They’re poised to take control. No one’s above suspicion. You’ve got to be as careful as I do.”
“What can I do?”
“Order the shuttle to launch, Mr. President,” McCracken told him. “We’ve got to intercept that satellite before it begins transmitting its signal.”
“And Sahhan’s troops?”
“According to the contingency plan, they won’t mobilize until the satellite does its part. Without the satellite they’ll be neutralized and so will the mercenaries.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“I don’t mean to. It’s anything but. Just because Pegasus goes up doesn’t necessarily mean it’s going to succeed. If it doesn’t, you’ll have to stop Sahhan with more conventional methods. I’d recommend putting some contingency wheels of our own in motion now, like preparing the army to mobilize into all major cities. Otherwise lots of people might not be opening their Christmas presents next year.”
“Right,” the President said. Then after a pause he spoke again. “I’m going to order Jamrock to get the shuttle up as soon as he can. I don’t suppose there’s any way of persuading you to vacate the cockpit.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then have a nice flight.”
“You don’t mind, fella, I’d appreciate you puttin’ that thing down now,” Captain Petersen requested, his eyes on Blaine’s pistol.
“I feel better with it in my hand.”
“Look, I’m on your side. If you can help us find the damn thing we’re supposed to shoot down, I say fuck the rest of ’em. But have you ever been up in a space ship before?”
“I was always good on roller coasters.”
“Yeah, well, multiply that feeling by about five and you’ve got yourself three Gs, which is what we’ll be facing at takeoff. Better men than you have passed out from the pressure.”
“I brought my Dramamine.”
“We are at T-minus twenty-two minutes to lift-off.”
Activity at both the Johnson Space Center in Houston and Kennedy Space Center in Florida became frantic with the announcement that the dry run had become the real thing. Personnel scurried about, the most practical ones stealing a few minutes to toss plastic covers over their cars to prevent damage from the hot dust the launch would scatter over a quarter-mile radius.
“We are at T-minus twenty minutes. …”
The emergency alarm had shrilled through the base for a full minute after the launch order was received from the White House.
“This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. Emergency launch procedures now in effect. Emergency launch procedures now in effect.”
Since the run-through included all the procedures of the actual launch, the Pegasus crews in both Houston and Florida were able to pick up where the drill left off, albeit with a faster stride and more resolute approach. The only problem encountered thus far had been a burned-out motor in the gantry which had to be moved from the launching pad before Pegasus could take off. The Florida ground crew ended up towing it out of the way with the help of two bulldozers.
“We are at T-minus twelve minutes. …”
“All systems are go. All light are green.”
On board Pegasus Captain Petersen was helping Blaine strap himself into takeoff position, with the gun still making him nervous as he tightened the straps around McCracken’s waist and chest.
“I hope you plan on puttin’ that thing away before we take off, fella.”
“Just as soon as you’re strapped in too, Commander,” Blaine told him, his eyes on the ever-silent copilot as well.
“Yeah, well, since you don’t trust me, you should keep in mind that if I wanted to make this the shortest flight you ever took, all I’d have to do would be to leave one of your straps unfastened. The G-forces at lift-off would send you bouncin’ ’round the cabin wall to wall. But don’t worry, fella, I fastened them all ’cause I believe ya and I know you’re the best chance we got once we hit the sky.”
Blaine flicked his pistol’s safety on and wedged it beneath his seat.
“That’s better,” sighed a relieved Petersen. “Now we can get the final check under way. …”
“We are at T-minus four minutes. …”
When the final check was complete, with all systems operating satisfactorily, Petersen turned back to McCracken.
“You wanna hear the flight plan?”
Blaine found he was squeezing the arms of the seat through his thick gloves. “I’ve got nothing else to do at the moment.”
Petersen smiled. “Two minutes after lift-off, the SRBs— that’s the solid rocket boosters — will be automatically ejected. The main engines — SSME system — will continue blasting us toward orbit for another seven minutes or so. Once they cut off, that monster of a propellant tank will jettison and we’ll enter a low, oval orbit.”
“We are at T-minus sixty seconds to launch. … Fifty-five…”
“I’ll fill you in on the rest later,” Petersen said, and turned back to his three monitors flashing a constantly changing display of data.
“Fifty…”
There was really nothing for Petersen to do at this point. Everything connected with launch procedures was handled by computer from Houston. He felt more like a passenger than a pilot.
“We are at T-minus thirty seconds. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven …”
Blaine felt his teeth chattering. A horrible sensation of dread filled him. He fought down the urge to tear his straps away and pop the escape hatch to flee this nightmare. He closed his eyes and steadied himself. His whole frame had begun to twitch.
“Good luck,” said Nathan Jamrock into his mouthpiece.