Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (62 page)

“Sergei, you head back in and man the arm,” Scott pivoted in the backpack and shot over to where the tug was parked. “I’ll get the HSRB cartridges, and should be back by the time you’re at the controls."

The rest of the operation went as usual, with nothing snagging them. By the time Commander Rutledge got through the lock and out of his suit, he’d logged just over nine and a half hours, though it showed on his face like twenty.

“I hope you appreciate the things we do for you guys,” he said, standing in his spandex undersuit and enjoying the cool air blowing across his sweat-soaked body.

“That was one for the record books,” Carson said, holding out his good hand to congratulate Scott. “I don’t think anyone’s had to jury-rig something that serious since Jim Lovell brought home the
Aquarius
with a dead Apollo on his back.”

“I believe Apollo was attached to lander’s back, and not his back,” Sergei said. “But this was definitely an accomplishment Commander.”

“All in a day’s work,” he said, shrugging off the compliment casually. “Speaking of which, you need to go home and I need to shower and get some rack time. I’ve got to be back outside with the puppies in ten hours.”

“I see how it is,” Blake said, putting on his best Southern drawl. “You just don’t want us to eat up all them vittles we brought.”

“Nah,” he grinned. “I was worried about the bubble gum we used to patch your ride falling off and leaving you stranded.”

“I had wondered about pink substance on fittings,” the Russian said without a trace of a smile.

***

Washington:

Al Stanley had passed the word that Roscosmos had promised they’d get the supply mission off today.

“About damn time,” she’d said. “For what we’re paying for this, I was about to cancel the check.”

“Yeah, and NASA’s starting to melt down,” he’d told her. “There are engineers down at Canaveral that have been working thirty-six hour shifts for five weeks.”

“Haven’t we all?”

When the appointed time came, she had NASA supply her with a feed from the long-abandoned Baikonur Cosmodrome. They’d pulled the old Launch Center out of mothballs, and from what she could see it looked like they’d missed a few. The first thing she noticed was that they were still using the old cameras. The picture was grainy and grey like they were shooting with old-style cinema film, and then forgot to clean the lens.

“Twenty billion dollars and they can’t even buy a decent camera?” she muttered to herself. She sat back and watched, listening to the voice of the narrator, speaking in Russian. She looked at her watch. Any second. The narrator rumbled on in Russian, saying nothing that sounded like a countdown. She looked at her watch again. Maybe her watch was off. It had to be any second. Still the narrator mumbled along. Not counting. Ten minutes late. Twenty.

Her phone beeped and she turned the sound down. “Yes Janice?” she said.

“General Marquez for you,” her secretary said.

“Put him through,” she said. Still no launch. “And while I’m on the phone, see if NASA’s got any clue why the Russians haven’t launched yet.”

“Yes Ma’am,” she said.

“Madam President,” the face of Victor Marquez appeared on her screen. Oddly enough, he was smiling.

“What can I do for you, General?” she said, still glancing at the video while she talked.

“Were you aware that the Japanese were here to see Colton Taylor?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Ambassador Kuromori was there a week or so ago. He stayed overnight.”

“No, I meant that the Japanese have been here again,” he said.

“Really? Did you let them in?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes on his face. His expression told her he had something serious to say, even though he was still smiling.

“No Ma’am. I didn’t think it would be prudent, considering,” he said.

“It wasn’t Kuromori?” she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“No Ma’am. This time it was Takao Mito, the President of JAXA,” he said.

“What the hell would Mito want at Stormhaven?” she said, realizing that she knew the answer already. “Those sons-of-bitches.”

“I see you’re thinking the same thing that we are out here,” he said. “It seems to me the Japanese have been willing to accept a huge amount of financial risk to keep us from attacking Stormhaven. I’d say it’s a good bet that Colton Taylor is trading technology for political protection.”

“If that’s true, we’ve got to stop them,” she said, rubbing her forehead and running her hand through her hair. “If we can break up their alliance, Japan will back down. They won’t be able to afford the risk without any back-end potential from Stormhaven’s technologies.”

“That was my thinking exactly,” Marquez said.

“Are you still ready with your troops?” she asked.

He nodded. “Just waiting for your orders Ma’am.”

“Give them until noon tomorrow, and if they haven’t surrendered by then, take Stormhaven down.”

“Thank you, Ma’am” Marquez said, snapping off a quick salute as the screen went black.

Across the room on the big monitor, the engines on the Russian booster ignited and the Russians finally came through.

Maybe today was going to be a good day after all.

***

The Mighty Will Fall

Stormhaven:

The word was out. Noon. When Cole was asked what they should do for the last time, he couldn’t give any more of an answer than he had the first time he’d been asked.

Have faith?
That word sounded so hollow. So Pollyanna.

Have faith in what? In him? In God?

In the fact that if he couldn’t pull the magic rabbit out of his hat, they were going to come in shooting? That was the one thing Colton no longer doubted.

When they were totally against the wall, he’d always managed the miracle. He’d never faced the no-win scenario. He’d always been Captain Kirk, never Captain Janeway. Win by skill. By style. By Panache.

Never by compromise.

Now that they were facing the reality of having to give up, he didn’t know how. He’d been standing by the windows staring across at Camp Kryptonite all night, trying to find a solution. Some way to buy a little more time. Some way to come up with the miracle, but it just wasn’t there.

This time it had to come from an outside source, and that made him feel insignificant, something he’d not felt for decades.
The Great Colton Taylor
, reduced to begging for help from God. He’d never prayed. He’d always shaken his fist in the face of the Almighty. He’d bargained and even sold himself once or twice, but he’d never been reduced to begging. He wasn’t sure he could do it.

Not for himself, but maybe for those around him.

God, save them. Help me to save them. Do not make them pay the price for this. Please God, keep them safe. Grant me this one thing.

He heard no rumbling thunder, no voice from above. He collapsed into a chair at the end of the table, laying his head on his arms, feeling empty and alone.

“Cole, we need to talk.” It was Viki, standing above him and putting a hand gently on his shoulder. Her voice was soft and consoling. She understood, even if she couldn’t see, the depth of the chasm into which he was falling.

He sat up realizing she was not alone. Tom and Dave and Daryl had all followed her into the room and they were all sitting beside him, each wearing a different mask. The sun had risen behind him and the walls had turned golden in the early morning light. He sat, blinking, forcing his mind to clear.

Clearing his throat he said, without looking at anyone’s face, “Anyone who wants to go, should leave.” The words were hard for him, each one dragging a piece of his heart with it.

“There’s still time for that,” she said. “It won’t take long if that’s what we need to do.” He glanced up at her. Viki, of all the people here, should have been the one urging him to let it go.

Through the door out onto the balcony overlooking the Biome he saw Nichole. She was leaning back against the railing watching him. His own daughter, an outsider, uncomfortable to come in with the rest. She was the embodiment of what he’d given up in pursuit of destiny, a destiny that seemed to be slipping away. Yet she was also the reason. She and all the other children that needed a future. Those that still believed in the promise.

“Colton, are you ok?” Viki stood over him, shaking his shoulder. “Cole, wake up. We need to talk.”

He snapped up to a sitting position, blinking in the grey light of the pre-dawn morning. His mind shuddered at the transition from dream to reality. Dave and Tom stood in front of him, arms crossed and showing their worry in the lines on their faces.

“Thank God, we’ve still got time,” he said, his words confusing and meaningless. “Dave, round up two volunteer crews and get them into the
Draco
and the
Aquila
. Tom, you need to have Daryl load that gear he’s been building into the ships.”

Neither man moved. “Just do it,” he said.

“Are we running?” Dave asked, still not moving and looking at Viki like he expected her to understand what Cole was thinking.

Cole looked into Tom’s face, locking eyes. “Tom, trust me. We’re not done yet. Please, just this one last time, do this for me.”

He stared back into Cole’s eyes, questioning, searching, and finally finding the depth of Colton’s faith. He nodded, and Dave took off for the door.

“Do you know what we’re doing?” Viki asked. “Really?”

He smiled. “We’re keeping a promise.”

***

ISS Alpha:

Scott floated in his usual place 150 meters in front of the station, watching the rookies once again get adjusted to the outside environment.

“Come on people, we’ve got work to do and I’m already feeling like a grumpy old man,” he said, watching them struggling to get their heads into the job. The construction crew had been divided into two teams, each one taking alternate days outside while the other team did station and EVA support duty. Today the A-team was practicing its construction skills, so that when the engineers were done designing, they’d know how to turn a wrench in orbit. His veteran eyes watched their ungainly moves, trying to pick the one from the team who’d made the most progress in getting his space legs. Unfortunately, it wasn’t likely that any of them would be ready for another few weeks.

He stared at the long white umbilical cord, watching it sway back and forth under the tension of their progress, and shook his head gently inside his helmet. Flipping his chin switch he called to Sergei on the private station channel, “I weep for us all.”

“I understand, Commander,” the Russian Cosmonaut said from the Command Center where he was monitoring their progress. “We have so much riding on these brave children."

“Roger that,” Scott agreed, staring across the distance. A flash of light caught his attention. The first of the old Russian supply ships would be docking later, but it looked like it was visible already as a glinting point of light above the arc of the atmosphere.

“Alpha, what’s the ETA on that OSV?” Commander Rutledge asked.

“We have three hours yet,” Sergei answered.

“Can you confirm?” Scott said, squinting and firing a small burst from his pack to slip away from the construction team.

“Roger Commander,” the Russian replied. “Two hours, fifty-six minutes and seventeen seconds until handoff.”

“Negative on that Sergei,” Scott flipped his hand to the right sending the MMU out a couple meters per second to make sure he was seeing the approaching craft clearly. “I see the capsule now. It can’t be more than 3,000 meters behind the station, and it’s closing fast.”

“Copy. I will move down to docking control and attempt to locate OSV on radar."

“Negative.” Scott said. “You don’t have time. Just override the program and fire the nose thrusters until I tell you to stop. It looks like it’s moving twenty meters per second.”

“Roger, sending control override.” It was going to be a tricky maneuver at best, but they had no choice. Every second the capsule had to move, made it less likely that they’d be able to avoid disaster.

“Sergei, hit the brakes, damn it,” the commander muttered, watching the capsule coming closer with its velocity still unchecked. “Come on, what’s the matter?”

“I have sent override, but onboard computer isn’t responding.” His voice carried an edge that seemed odd even over the comlink. “I have sent code three times. Is not accepting the command.”

“Is the transmitter working?” Scott asked, twisting to look at the station and trying to figure out if the capsule was on a collision course.

“Yes. Is replying, but refusing to accept ...” Sergei’s voice died away as he apparently searched for an explanation. “Progress modules used old computer protocols. If they are using obsolete commands, then we will be unable to override.”