Double Cross (16 page)
I told him about my conversation with her last night.
“Let me get this straight,” Rawling said. “Both times you were in the flight-simulation combat, she was the other pilot?”
Dad poured more coffee into his cup and offered a refill to Rawling.
Rawling took it, sipped, and grimaced again.
“All I can think of,” I said, “is that she works with Dr. Jordan the same way I work with you. It wouldn't be difficult for Dr. Jordan to know when you had me scheduled for the flight simulations. All he'd need to do is get into the computer mainframe and link Ashley into it the same way that I do. I mean, the flight simulation is basically a virtual-reality computer game. In a computer game, you can play the computer or a human opponent, right? Dr. Jordan just needed to get Ashley into the game.”
“Sure,” Rawling said. “But if that's the case, why wouldn't Dr. Jordan let us know that Ashley was part of this? That's what is driving me crazy. All the secrets here.”
“Not just secrets here,” Dad corrected, “but secrets from Earth. Let's face it. Someone there is making the decisions to spend the money they did on the Hammerhead. Someone there was able to fake the shipment papers. Someone there sent us the communications about a killer comet. We've been thrown into a game where we don't know the rules.”
“We've been thrown into a game without being told the game is happening,” Rawling said. “And the biggest question of all is why.”
They had begun to talk to each other like I wasn't there. I had to cough to get their attention. They turned to me.
“I've got a guess,” I said. “At least a guess about the reason for the comet and the Hammerhead.”
I told them. Then I told them when and where I wanted to ask the questions I had about my guess.
I couldn't find Ashley in the last hour before we went into the countdown preparations. I discovered why when I finally gave up looking and wheeled over to the platform buggy that would take us out to the launch site, about two miles from the dome.
Ashley was there. Inside the buggy. With Dad and Dr. Jordan. She wouldn't meet my eyes.
Dr. Jordan did, though. “Ashley's here to observe,” he said to my unspoken question. “Today's an exciting day in space history. I want her to be part of it.”
Ashley didn't look excited. I thought I knew why. But only the next few hours would let me know if I was right.
The launch was routine, or at least as routine as you could expect anytime 500,000 horsepower was generated to break several tons of equipment and rocket fuel away from the gravity and atmosphere of a planet.
I wasn't worried anyway.
My dad was the best. He'd shuttled the Habitat Lander between the surface of Mars and the orbiting Crew Transfer Vehicle dozens of times. That was how interplanetary travel worked. The CTV was large and comfortable enough for the eight-month journey to Earth. In space, with no air friction or gravity, it didn't matter whether a vehicle weighed 2 tons or 10. If I'd been able to brace against something, a simple push of my arm would be enough to send the CTV on its way.
But launching a CTV from planetary gravity was a totally different story. It would take megatons of fuel and demand an aerodynamic construction like a rocket ship, limiting the room for crew. So the CTV instead orbited Mars, and the Habitat Lander was used to carry things back and forth from Mars (or Earth, if the CTV was parked there).
The Habitat Lander was much smaller. With Dad as pilot, Dr. Jordan, Ashley, and meâall of us strapped in against the g-forces on takeoff and landingâthere was barely enough room for the extra space suits. The Hammerhead had been secured in the cargo bay.
No one said much before takeoff. We were all in space suits, but that wasn't the reason for silence. Space suits are connected by radio, and we could have heard each other easily.
Dad was looking down at his countdown checklist.
Dr. Jordan still looked angry. I'd overheard him yelling at Rawling this morning. He'd been furious that someone had broken the lock to the storage room. I'd seen him check out the Hammerhead at least a dozen times after that, probably making sure it hadn't been tampered with.
Ashley seemed unusually quiet. I hadn't spoken with her since last night, when we'd been at the telescope. Now she wouldn't even make eye contact with me. I hadn't had a chance to tell her that I hadn't ratted her out. Instead, I'd calmly invited Dr. Jordan to look at the stars with me when he made it up to the telescope. I hadn't had a chance to tell her that he had hissed impatiently at me. And then he stomped away, complaining about wasted time.
I didn't have much to say. At least not yet. I was angry too, but for a very different reason.
Just then the rockets roared. The Habitat Lander shook hard, as if Mars were a giant dog reluctant to let it go. A minute later we broke from the planet and shot through the air. G-forces flattened my face.
This was my first trip into space. I should have been enjoying it. I should have been excited about getting into orbit and seeing Mars for the first time the way I'd been seeing it in the virtual-reality computer programs.
But I didn't enjoy the trip. Like Ashley, I'd lost a lot of my excitement.
Once we were in orbit, getting into the Hammerhead was relatively simple.
I was already in my space suit. That part had been awkward on Mars because of the low gravity. Dad had helped push my legs inside.
Here in orbit, however, it didn't matter that I couldn't use my legs. Moving was as easy as pushing off with a finger or elbow. Any other time I would have loved that freedom. But I had to focus on what I needed to do, so I didn't even look out through the observatory windows at Mars.
“Right behind you, Tyce,” Dad said into his space suit radio when I reached the sealed doors that led to the cargo bay. “Remember the space pilot's first rule. If for any reason you think it's unsafe to proceed, you can abort the flight. This isn't about trying to be brave.”
“Roger,” I said, knowing Ashley and Dr. Jordan were on the same channel.
The cargo bay doors worked on the same principle as the entrance to the dome. When the inner door opened, some of the air from the ship filled the cargo bay. You stepped inside, and the inner door closed before the outer door opened.
Dad had explained to me earlier that when that outer door opened, the vacuum of outer space sucked smaller, unsecured contents out through the gap like a miniature explosion. Humans in space suits were flexible enough to get sucked out in the first surge. So he had warned me to buckle the safety cable of my space suit to the iron rings set inside the cargo bay. If I tumbled out, I'd go with so much speed that the chances of any space vehicle finding me out in space were next to zero. I'd be doomed to a slow death, floating in space as I waited for my oxygen and water to run out.
Dad floated behind me as I punched the button to open the inner cargo door. We'd worked it out beforehand. He would enter the cargo bay with me and help me into the Hammerhead. Once I was secured inside the space torpedo, he would reenter the Habitat Lander, close the inner door again, and finally open the outer door to set the Hammerhead free. He, Dr. Jordan, and Ashley would be able to watch from the observatory window.
Out here in space, time seemed not to exist. Our slow, weightless movements felt eerie.
We waited until the inner door slid open, and Dad followed me into the cargo bay.
“Safety clip,” Dad said, pointing at the iron rings. I started to buckle my safety cable in place, and so did he.
“Roger.” Someday I was going to ask Dad or Rawling where that phrase came from. Meanwhile, it sounded cool so I used it.
Dad fumbled with the catch of the Hammerhead's hatch.
When it finally opened, I pulled myself inside. It was a tight fit, space suit and all.
Once I was inside, with the hatch still open, Dad unclipped my safety cable. The end of it retracted, following me into the Hammerhead.
“Everything still fine, Son?”
“Roger.”
Dad secured the hatch. “I'm not leaving the cargo area until you hook yourself up to the onboard computer. Remember the space pilot's first rule. If for any reasonâ”
I grinned and finished his words. “âI think it's unsafe to proceed, I have the right to abort the flight.”
It took me five minutes to get the onboard computer ready. My plug had already been attached to an antenna wired into my space suit. It traded signals with the Hammerhead's onboard computer, and when they had finished talking to each other, everything was ready.
There was a small observatory port in the Hammerhead. I lifted an arm to give Dad a thumbs-up.
He saw it and nodded. “Run through your checklist with me.”
I did.
“You're ready,” Dad said. “The Hammerhead is hooked by a safety cable to the inside of this cargo bay. When the outer door opens, you get pulled out 20 or 30 yards. I will repeat that the pilotâyouâhas the control switch to release that safety cable. In other words, the flight is your decision. Because remember the first rule of space pilot safety. If for any reasonâ”
“I'm fine.”
He rapped on the observation panel of the Hammerhead. “I'm proud of you. I love you.” With those words, he pushed away.
Thirty seconds later, with the inner door sealed and Dad safely inside the Habitat Lander, the outer cargo door slid open. The Hammerhead bumped against the opening doors as the explosion of pressure shot through the gap. As the doors opened fully, it bobbed out of the cargo bay completely. It stopped at the end of the cable.
The Habitat Lander loomed large in my observation window. I could see Dad and Dr. Jordan at the window.
All that held me to the safety of the orbiting Habitat Lander was a thin, steel cable. When I released it, I would be all alone in space.
I shivered.
Incredible.
I floated in total, peaceful silence. By turning my head, I saw the edge of Mars. It was so large against the black backdrop of space that all I could see was a small part of the red planet's curve and its shimmering atmosphere. In the distance were rings of craters and lines of mountain ranges. When I lifted my eyes, I could see beyond the curve to where a bright blue ball, swirled with white, hung motionless. Earth.
Tears filled my eyes at this beauty.
I wondered if heaven would be anything like this. Total peace. A sense of total freedom. And an overwhelming sense of awe of the God who created all of this.
“Tyceâ” Dr. Jordan's brisk voice broke into my thoughtsâ“you haven't begun countdown. Do you have any questions before you begin?”
All I had to do was instruct the onboard computer to begin the preignition countdown. Once the rocket flares ignited, the Hammerhead would be mine, responding instantly to my thoughts. I'd be able to race through space. I'd be able to explore a million miles as easily as rolling my wheelchair along a path. I'd be able to flit among the moons of Mars, cruise above the planet, head for the asteroids. But I had questions.
“Yes?” Dr. Jordan sounded impatient.
“I do have several questions, sir.”
“Please make them brief. You are familiar with all the controls. The Hammerhead is fully prepared and ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked at Earth again. Thought of all the lives on that planet. Thought of mothers, fathers, and their kids. Wondered what it would be like to be destroyed in a single burst of red from a space torpedo that circled the Earth.
“Tyce! Your questions?” Dr. Jordan's irritated voice rang in my helmet.
“Sir, this laser that I'm going to use on an asteroid. It has a range of 3,000 miles, correct?”
“Yes, we've been through that. Fire from extreme range to ensure you do not endanger the Hammerhead with asteroid fragments. It is a prototype, worth approximately 15 billion dollars.”
“No one has tested this weapon before, sir?”
“Of course not. Which is why you are going on this mission today.” Dr. Jordan didn't bother to disguise his sigh at my stupidity.
“But, sir, wouldn't a test like this break all of the nontesting treaties set up by the United Nations? I mean, hasn't there been a ban on any new weapons testing since 2020?”
“Tyce, a comet is two months away from destroying Mars. In these circumstances, today is not a weapons test. It is preparation for the prevention of catastrophe.”
Every time I said the word
sir
, I bit it off. Cold and short. Because I was getting angrier and angrier at what it seemed Dr. Jordan really wanted me to do. And it didn't involve a comet. It was something much, much worse.
“I hope you are finished with these pointless questions.”
“Almost, sir.”
Another one of his aggravated sighs echoed in my helmet.
I kept my eyes on Earth, 50 million miles awayâwhere all those people were unaware of this tiny Hammerhead space torpedo. “Sir, this laser weapon is capable of penetrating a planet's atmosphere,” I said.
