Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (41 page)

“Maybe so,” Scott said. “But if that happens, everybody who’ll be coming up won’t be trying to make the world’s most complex nuclear weapon, while they’re trying to get their space-legs. Everything hangs on whether these guys can get their feces collated and keep their stomachs sucked in at the same time.”

“That’s why you get to build a new lunar shuttle first,” he said, handing him a thick booklet from a small cabinet under his seat.

Someone, most likely Lange himself, had scribbled a note on its otherwise featureless cover. “Unabridged assembly manual for the TLS-2
Intrepid.
Good luck."

Thumbing through the pages, it looked like a Chilton’s shop manual. “This is it?” Rutledge said.

“Oh, hell no,” Warren said. “There are thirty-two more volumes in a locker on the mid-deck.”

***

Stormhaven:

Life in the Biome was carefully balanced, both at the natural level and at the much more complex human level. Because of her unique position as both participant and observer of the human condition of the residents, Viki knew this better than most, although now she was distracted with her own issues.

She sat outside on the patio alone. In truth, a lot of the creativity that flowed through the community started as seeds here, in the communal moments when the residents came together over breakfast or lunch. Everyone who would normally be here, eating and talking about their projects, sharing ideas and brainstorming, was missing.

For all that Cole was the genius of the community, Viki felt like she had to be its courage. She had come outside by choice. She refused to allow the jets orbiting over the community to intimidate her. If she hid inside, behind the walls and away from the roaring of their engines, they’d all see she was afraid. She made her stand because if anyone else knew, then things might begin to crumble.

Normally one of her favorite things to do was watch the birds dancing above the treetops. She’d often sit for hours, entranced by their graceful aerial ballet, although today they seemed to be cowering close to the ground.

She sat stoically, staring across her table into the distance, focused on nothing more than maintaining the semblance of normalcy. She had her back toward the cafeteria doors, and even though she couldn’t see them, she knew they were watching her. A hundred pairs of eyes, staring at her absurd display of defiance. Fortunately they couldn’t see her face, and the fear that was written there. At least that was something.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the fighters made another pass overhead. Their power rolled through the canyon with menacing certainty, shaking the ground, and her will to remain strong. She was contemplating whether she’d endured enough, and was about to pick up her tray to head for the safety inside when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Dave had appeared out of nowhere. Not that it would have been hard to sneak up on her, with the echoing growl of the jets still reverberating across the Biome. He was carrying his breakfast, and a cup of coffee for her. He sat both of them on her table and parked across from her.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said, smiling.

She shrugged and tried to return his smile, but her face felt stiff, the effort only achieving a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“Starting to get to you?” he asked, rolling his eyes in the direction of the sky to indicate the flyovers.

“Yeah, a little,” she admitted. “It’s hard to sleep ...” she paused as they made another pass overhead, “... when those damn things keep it up all night.” She noticed that he looked as rested as ever. A twinge of anger flashed inside her. It wasn’t fair.

“You get used to it,” he said. “I’ve got ten years living on Air Force bases. After a while you don’t even notice.”

“How do you carry on a conversation?” she asked. “It’s too loud to even think.”

“It’s not as bad in here as it is outside.” He smiled again. “The roof of the Biome probably cuts it in half. Can you imagine what it’s like for those guys out there in the tents?”

“I’m sure they’re used to it by now,” she said. “Or they’re all wearing ear muffs."

“Yeah, I’m sure they are,” he grinned, picking up his fork and poking at his eggs. “I need catsup,” he said, looking around at the other tables and grabbing a bottle from across the patio. While he was gone the fighters made another run overhead.

“Do you think they have any idea of the psychological effect these patrols are having inside here?” she said.

“Count on it,” he said. “They don’t want us to forget they’re out there.”

“I wonder how long it’d take Daryl to make 1,500 sets of ear plugs?”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, winking as he drowned his breakfast under a river of catsup.

***

Air Force One, Over Western New Mexico:

“We’re getting heat like you wouldn’t believe,” John said, reclining in the seat across the desk from the President.

Out the window, the high plateau of northwestern New Mexico scrolled beneath them. Sylvia stared down at the featureless terrain watching I-40 slash through the gently rolling desert. Ahead, a ridge of mountains poked their flat heads up out of the arid landscape, while the spine of the Rockies disappeared beneath the wing.

It was an unimpressive sight from this altitude, and she wondered why anyone settled here in the first place. Then she flashed to the frozen desert of the lunar surface and the work being done by Susan Winslow. By comparison, these mountains were lush and fertile. It was more than beauty that drove the human spirit to tame the wastelands of the frontier.

“Sylvia? Are you ok?” John asked, realizing she wasn’t listening to him.

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about the Lunar Colony,” she said, without looking away from the window.

He followed her gaze. “I can see why.”

“You were telling me about Kuromori,” she said, pulling her eyes away from the landscape to look at him.

“When Agent Shapiro detained him this morning, he nearly started an international incident,” John said. “The Ambassador filed a complaint with my office before he touched down in Washington. He’s also threatening action in the world court.”

“Do you think he means to pursue it, or is it just noise?” she said.

“I don’t know,” John said. “Maybe. Seems everybody else is after our butts lately.”

“Can you blame them?” she said. She glanced toward the Secretary but her eyes drifted out the window again.

“I understand how they feel. If it happened to us, we’d be screaming too,” he said. “Japan’s problem is that Shapiro just heavy-handed the Ambassador.”

“A personal apology isn’t going to solve the problem is it?” she asked.

John shrugged. “Kuromori’s usually pretty level-headed. We have to consider that he spent the night as a guest of Stormhaven, so he might have some other motivation now. The only thing we can take to the bank is that anything Taylor is involved in becomes unpredictable.”

Sylvia leaned over toward the window, nodding toward the ground. “There it is,” she said. “I’ve flown over this a dozen times and I never knew what those buildings were."

John twisted to look at the scene below. “A damned screwed-up situation,” he said.

The perimeter of Stormhaven was a visible line of surveillance and military equipment. The spectators had been moved back some distance, but were still obvious from this altitude. Camp Kryptonite, to the southeast, sprawled over what looked like a half square mile, but was still not a quarter as large as the buildings they were guarding. Two fighter jets circled far below, skimming over the terrain.

“With all those tents, I see why Shapiro calls it a circus.” John smiled wryly, watching the scene drift back under the wing and out of sight. “But it’s only one of our problems."

“Yeah, I know. That’s a lot of resources wasted on one aspect of the situation,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe we should just give them what they want and be done with it.” She pulled her attention back to focus on what John had to say.

“The biggest issue we’ve got right now is China,” John said.

“Our launches were causing enough of an uproar, but when the Chinese did their parade of missiles, it sent the entire Pacific Rim into a total panic,” she said. “SNN was running a piece this morning on the buildup to war.”

“It’s an obvious conclusion to draw,” he said, “even if it wasn’t being fed by idiots with their own agenda.” He grabbed his epad out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“That one caught my eye,” he said. “Nathaniel Sommerset went on the air this morning, from his hospital bed no less, claiming that God has given him a personal revelation about the coming Apocalypse.”

“Hospital bed?” she asked, scrolling down the article.

“Yeah. His church building was hit by lightning yesterday afternoon while he was inside,” he said. “The building was damaged, but he survived pretty much intact. Although I might question his sanity."

Finding what had jumped out at John, her mouth hung open in shock. “He says the United States is preparing to make war against the Red Dragon,” she paraphrased. “Wasn’t that the name Norman mentioned for the Chinese mitigation project?
Zhen-Long
or something like that?”

“Yep, that’s it. Keep reading, it gets better,” he said, nodding.

“We’re making ready to throw a Hammer of War against the Dark Demon before he can rain fire down from the heavens?” She stopped. “That’s way too close. Is there any chance somebody’s leaked the truth to him?"

“You mean like maybe, God?” he asked.

“I was actually thinking someone far more mortal,” she said.

“It’s possible, but Norman would be the one to ask,” he said. “I read that Sommerset’s Faith Unlimited Network Ministries has doubled since we started Hammerthrow.”

“I thought he was a faith healer,” she said. “When did he become a prophet of doom?”

“Apparently this morning,” he said. “The problem is that he’s got millions of followers and the independent capacity to reach them all. His network owns the Angel Three and Angel Five communication satellites.”

“I wonder if Norman’s realized that?” she said. “I know there are a lot of ministries that have become satellite and online media conglomerates, so this isn’t the only one we’ll have to watch."

“I left him a message about it this morning, but his secretary told me he’d called in sick.” John said.

“I also heard on CNN American Morning that North Korea’s offering to host a peace conference between us and the PRC,” she said.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” John grinned, shaking his head. “It’s legit too. I received the official offer a few hours ago."

She got up, walking around the office and rubbing her temples. “You know, maybe we should just go public. This is getting out of hand.” She turned back to him, her pained expression carrying the weight of her frustration.

“It’s your call,” he said, “but we’re in deep. If we back out now we’re going to look like we’ve been—“

“I know. They’ll skip right over the impeachment, and just burn us at the stake.” She picked up her coffee cup and glared into its empty interior. “If we can get far enough along before the cover collapses, then the public will see we’ve been doing the right things for the right reasons. I just hate shoveling sand with a sieve.”

“Norman’s suggested more than once that you need to invoke the Emergency Powers Act,” John said. “It would make things easier.”

“Trust me, I’ve been reading the legal notes on the process.” She collapsed into the well-padded recliner across the room, still holding her empty coffee cup. “I know I can do it without having to disclose anything, but it’s going to cost us if I do,” she said. “I have no desire to go down in history as the country’s first constitutional dictator.”

“If only there was something we could point at, then we could keep the public behind us,” John said. “Have you asked Norman if he’s got something in his bag of tricks?”

“Evil deeds done for the necessity of the greater good?” She looked down at her hands and thought about it. “No, I haven’t asked, but if an option doesn’t present itself soon, we might have no choice."

“We have to come up with some way to clamp down on the press,” he said. “The speculation is bad enough to bring us to our knees.”

She nodded but didn’t look at him.

“Do you want me to talk to him about it?” he offered.

“No. If it’s got to be done, then I need to make the call.”

***

Foundations of Sand

Houston:

“Yeah, I understand what you’re saying, Warren,” Joshua Lange said. They’d just managed to set up a permanent encrypted link to the station, and the astronaut’s face was glaring at him from his comscreen. “We’ve got so many balls in the air right now, it’s just one of those things that slipped through the cracks,” he said.

“The problems started at the Alpha ADS handoff,” McDermott said. “We almost ate the new fuel cache before I grabbed it back and slid out from under it. If we don’t get Alpha’s automated docking code updated, somebody’s going to get killed.”