Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy (34 page)

"Who's on their way?" He looked confused.

"Regan Stein and her Assistant, she's American by the way. They're parking up in Honolulu as we speak. Put on CNN."

Johnston reached for the remote and activated the huge wall screen. Switching to CNN he could see the live feed. It was two in the afternoon in Hawaii and it looked glorious. They could see the STEIN Interceptor settled on a clear space on Waikiki beach. Although probably empty only minutes ago already they could see people running down from the hotels and road to get close.

"That AI of theirs . . ."

"His name is Ham," Johnston corrected her. "And you of all people should remember there is nowhere he can't access, despite our best efforts." He pointedly swiveled his eyes around the room and then returned to the screen and the growing crowd.

"Yes, well Ham has been on all the stations explaining Regan's confidence and what she's doing. It's no wonder people are turning out."

As they watched the Interceptor doors opened at the rear and two bikini clad women stepped out with towels. They waved then circled round to climb up on the curved roof of the Interceptor, placing their towels and stretching out to sunbathe. When the shorter one began to apply sunscreen to Regan they both laughed out loud.

"Oh I love it." Cliff patted Anne on the back conspiratorially. "This is perfect, what great television. They couldn't have done better. I've got to ask, why here, what's happening in Wellington?"

"Oh that's hilarious too; I've only got a still shot from our Embassy feed. Have a look at this." She couldn't help laughing as she handed it over. There above The Beehive Parliamentary offices the STEIN Saucer sat like a cap.

"It's the alien, Marin. The big guys sitting it out in Wellington can you believe it?"

They both sat down to watch. He handed the photo back to Anne and she laughed again just looking at it. He was watching the big screen unable to tear his eyes away. The camera was zooming in as the young woman slowly . . . applied . . . the . . . cream.

In Moscow Andrei Sokolov scowled at the screen. Pulled from his bed at four in the morning he was not in the mood for theatre. The show put on by Stein and the American enraged and unsettled him. As he watched the performance the first seeds of doubt began to enter his mind. The women's brazen confidence was bothering.
But what can you do Andrei? We have made this bed and we must sleep in it.
He'd seen enough. Tottering back he was resigned to one thing. He wouldn't sleep tonight.

* * *

Chapter Seven

From a distance the little ADF visual zoomed in on the raked Coran flight deck, both decks were showing increased activity. In particular the sight of crew lining up either side of the entrances, clearly visible through the hazy field bubble that held in the atmosphere. And there was extra lighting, huge spotlights clearly directed out into the vacuum, all the better to record some impending departure? The deck crew seemed to be settling in, some sliding down the walls to sit, their long legs bent up in front of them, others clustered in groups chatting. Something was up. On this side a lone figure could be seen walking to the edge of vacuum. A male, he stood there, hands clasped behind his back, just staring out into the void. Then, with an exaggerated military turn he spun about and disappeared back into the bowels of the vessel. The image zoomed back, the people becoming insects, the entrance a crevice and finally the ship, a shrinking behemoth with the sun peeking out from behind it.

On that strip of Pacific Ocean between 174 and 157 degrees from prime meridian it was early morning. Not just another day. Regan lay awake in the Interceptor control chair, awake and online. It was seven in the morning Hillary/New Zealand time, six am Hawaii. Viewing the Coran vessel from a distance she accessed the ADF's camera and zoomed in on the flight deck port side.

[What's that Ham?]

He didn't need to answer. As they watched the nose of a craft nudged forward, a pointed nose not blunt like the other Coran shuttles. Deck crew moved out from the walls patting the nose for luck. It seemed very low to the deck, no sign of weapons, or a screen.

[Looks like we have action] Ham commented.

[This is early . . . There are still two days to go]

[Huh! By whose measure?] He radiated cynicism.

[What can we see from the other side Ham?] And the view changed, a starboard perspective with an almost identical flight deck and the nose of another twin craft enjoying the same superstitious attention.
Humanoids, it seems we're all the same at heart, and with the same desperate potential for evil.

On Hillary Rod walked groggily to the bathroom. Two days to go and the late night commiseration party had gone on much longer than intended. He leaned forward on the basin trying to make out whether the haze on the mirror was mist or his vision. Memory of his drunken abject failure in bed with Minjee the night before assailed him and he looked down disgusted, gripping himself and stretching his penis out. "Where the fuck were you when I needed you?"

Looking back up at the mirror he was jolted back to reality.

FLIGHT DECK--NOW--ALONE--DRESS FOR ACTION.

"Holy fuck." He quickly splashed water on his face and combed it through his hair with fingers as he returned to the room still wet. Going to the cupboard he pulled on one of the new flight suits with the poofy, life saving, Chinese collar. Glancing down at the lightly snoring Minjee he hesitated,
ALONE?
He leant forward and considered kissing her, then thought better of it, discipline kicking in and he turned for the door. Without looking back he was gone.

Jogging down the pipe corridor he could feel his head clearing, the fuzziness being replaced by something of a cold dread. It crystallized his thinking . . .
It's on!

Fortunately at that time Marin was alone. The sight of the ungainly two point one meter figure, naked and doing handstand press ups with something close to perfect balance would have been disturbing to anyone, all the more so because he
clearly
found it stimulating.

[Marin . . . we're on!] Ham announced his presence.

For a moment Marin balanced there, wobbling back and forward then dropped back to the floor looking as if he'd been pulled down by some central counterweight. He couldn't be faulted for focus.

[They're on the move?] He asked.

[Looks like it. They haven't launched yet but the activity on the flight decks seems to indicate they're getting ready]

Another presence intruded [How many of those press ups did you manage?] It was Regan.

[They weren't press ups; I was practicing a new . . .]

Ham interrupted [Focus people! Do we make an announcement?]

[Let's not alarm people] Regan subbed [If we're right it's too late to run anyway so best to keep up the PR and calm the populace if anything]

[They have TV crews over at the Beehive Marin, you could displace over there and ride it out with the PM]

[Good idea Ham] Regan agreed [and remember babe, cover that schlong before you go. I don't think the populace is ready for it]

[You've always had a way with words Regan, and what, may I ask are you two going to do?]

[I do have an idea, it's something like 'Come to the beach, see in the apocalypse'; Ham, what about contacting all the local stations here and encouraging people to come down to the beach, and tell them to bring deck chairs?]

[I'll get on to it. Now I'm going to sign off for a bit, I need to concentrate for my important conversation with Rod, it's going to be fun] Ham did indeed seem to disappear from the ether.

[We're going to be alright aren't we babe?] Regan asked.

[Almost certainly] Marin knew she'd be smiling.

[Well, better get going] She let the thought hang there, as if waiting for something.

[So I get Bob Jarvis and you get Leah Morgan, where's the fairness in that?]

[Aah Marin, delayed gratification, it's a wonderful thing]

Soaring out of the pipe, Rod was grateful for his routines. He had toileted before leaving and the unbelievable discovery of coffee on board would surely have tested his reserves had he not.

"So Ham, it's just you and me then huh, what's my role in all of this then?"

"You won't be doing anything for a while Rod, hence the coffee, but sit tight, yours is a very important role."

Rod flicked to the reverse screen, Hillary Station was already a distant light in the background. He took a sip of the brew. "I like it, I was born for important roles, so what do I do?"

"You're the bait Rod."

"I'm sorry?"

"No need to be sorry, it's wonderful that you're available."

"Sorry . . . ?"

"You keep saying that, no need to be sorry, you're perfect for this."

He was sitting up now dusting spills off his suit. "In what way am I suited to be bait for fucks sake?"

"I needed a living breathing human and you fit the bill well, on both counts, you're perfect!"

Rod was actually starting to smile, a wry smile but it was there nonetheless. "So it had nothing to do with my supreme flying ability, courage under fire and all round general good looks."

"That's right, nothing . . . nothing at all."

"Ok, all jokes aside, what am I doing?"

"I need you to confirm a body onboard. They won't know who it is at first but they can detect a life form from a distance. If I'm going to draw fire I need you here."

"If they haven't fired on the ADF's so far why do you reckon they'll fire on me?"

"Oh they wouldn't fire on you. They'll fire because they think its Regan."

"And they'll think that because . . . ?" he drew it out.

"Because that's the visual they'll see when we call on them to surrender."

Rod sat quietly sipping on the coffee, thinking. "And why me, on my own, why was it not possible for Minjee to be here with me?"

"Rod, life is far too precious, I couldn't risk two people on something so foolhardy, and anyway, you only need one rabbit for a dog to chase."

He sighed, slumping down in his chair. "In that case, I'm happy to be of service. So, what else can we talk about?"

He settled in to wait.

* * *

"We're rolling people." Ham thoughtfully included Leah via her earpiece. She looked sideways at Regan, suddenly glazed and distant, clearly following the action. She sighed with frustration and looked out over the growing carnival crowd. They had the best view here, perched seaward side of the beach, four meters up on the Interceptor roof and perched on borrowed deckchairs. She looked down at the deckchair donor, still leaning on the warm hull. They had promised to sign the chairs for him and she could see dollar signs light up in his eyes. They would be worth a fortune after this.
Ah well
, she thought,
they are very comfortable
.

Looking out over the mass of people it struck Leah how happy everyone was.
They just needed a leader.
Unconsciously she reached across and rested a hand on Regan's arm.

Marin had just finished the joint morning TV interview with Bob Jarvis and a smiling Ken and Barbie. He couldn't believe the inane questions. Apocalypse loomed and all they wanted to ask was, "What's your favorite food?", "What's Regan really like?" (Raised eyebrows with that one) "Have you seen the Lord of the Rings remake", and, "did you consider going for an Elf role?" Out of the corner of one eye he could see Bob Jarvis rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, his being there did seem to be putting everyone at ease. Ham's subbed intrusion snapped him alert. He leant across and whispered to the PM causing a slight buzz of excitement to pass around the impromptu studio.

The gushing interviewer leant forward, wide eyed. "Is it on?"

He looked back at her, surprised at her eagerness. "Yes, yes I think it is, in a few hours. It's going to be a great day. I suggest people find the best place to watch and settle in for a show. It might be a bit far away for the eye but we'll make sure you get to watch on screen. Now, Bob and I need to meet privately. Thank you for your interest." He stood to leave, carefully maneuvering around Barbie who had placed herself inappropriately close. He felt her hands graze his hips as he passed. They exited quickly for the ninth floor Cabinet Room.

For the second time in two days Anne Marshall invaded the Oval Office and Cliff Johnston looked up warmly. In this administration the Vice President had proved almost nonexistent from a policy point of view. A great hand shaker and excellent after dinner speaker he had played an administration PR role well. But Anne had proved the rock. Well respected by other world leaders and a great sounding board for Johnston, it also helped hugely that she had the ear of the STEIN organization. She had earned this kind of privilege.

One look at her as she entered and the smile faded from The Presidents face. "They're coming for us?"

"We don't know yet sir, but all the signs are that they're moving. I've just heard from Hilary, at Hillary . . ." She sighed, "you know what I mean. It seems the Coran's are preparing for launch and all the signs are two vessels, probably bombers. That sounds like they're hitting both of us, Wellington and Hawaii."

"How long . . . ?"

"I asked the same question. Hilary couldn't say but following launch she said they could be in position in an hour at most. That means sometime in the next few hours perhaps. I just thought you should know." She turned to leave but he called her back.

"Stay Anne . . . that is, unless you've something more important to do?"

She shook her head. "What could be more important than this?"

He moved around the desk to join her. Let's pour ourselves a drink and settle in. He hit the remote lighting up the big screen. Thousands of people on deck chairs sunning on the beach filled the picture and they stretched as far as the camera could reach. It was obviously a huge party. "Well," He looked across at Anne. "I'd hate to miss out." He walked purposefully to the drinks cabinet.