Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (67 page)

Two Starhawks had arrived almost immediately after the collision, but even they were only a show of moral support. The tiny TAV were designed for one purpose: to fight in space. Their small cockpits were pressurized, and could not be opened in the vacuum. None of their fittings could be used to pump air into the spacesuits, and even their radio wasn’t compatible with NASA’s. The Air Force pilots drifted, silent spectators wishing they could help, but unable to do more than be an obstacle to navigation. Not that it mattered. No one was going home anyway.

Two hours, eight or ten to go. Sergei and Hiroko could only try to be reassuring while they sat vigil with their companions. Adrift and waiting for the end.

***

Bridge of the Draco, Above the Arizona Desert:

“Here they come,” Dave said. “Sixteen targets, closing from the east. He looked around the bridge at the tense faces. Crushed into their seats by nearly four-G, sweat beading up on their faces and strain showing in their expressions. Back in the mid-deck cabins another dozen people sat waiting to help, unaware of what turn their fate might take. But they’d have volunteered to come along, even knowing.

“Looks like they got off to a late start,” Cole said. “We’re a lot higher this time.”

“Yeah, and they aren’t pushing as hard either,” Dave checked his instruments and considered. “I wonder if that’s ‘cause we gave them such a drubbing last time?” He laughed at his sarcasm. An image of Daryl’s grimace, flashing bittersweet through his mind. He’d been so pissed that his baby had been shot up. He forced the thought back to the dark corner of his mind.
Deal with it later,
he reminded himself.

“Let’s get a little maneuvering room,” Cole suggested. “We’ll drift left a mile or so and then if we need to move around, we won’t have to worry so much.”

“Copy that. We’ll take ourselves over a bit too.” Dave said. “They should be in cannon range in a minute or so.”

“Yeah. Shit,” Cole said. “Good luck.”

***

Stormhaven:

Viki sat watching the camp across the ridge though her digital binoculars. Brad had passed the coverage back over to Nichole. He stood beside her as Mica sat the Lightnings down, while dozens of people she assumed to be medical staff swarmed around to get the pilots out. She’d seen the first of them, the one who’d tried to scatter himself all over the back of Stormhaven, sit up before the crowd had blocked her view. At least he’d survived. After seeing the way his plane had disintegrated, that was a miracle in itself. “Amazing,” she whispered, shaking her head.

As if he’d read her thoughts Brad said, “When you live in Olympus, it’s often easy to take miracles for granted.”

“Excuse me Dr. Rosnikov,” Mica said. “I have a call for Mr. Taylor, but given the situation I think it prudent that you take the call now. Should I put it through?"

“The situation?” she asked.

“The rescue mission is about to be engaged by a squadron of Starhawks,” Mica said. “They have begun evasive maneuvers.” A screen lit up on the wall of the Communications Center, showing the tactical situation. Another screen opened on either side, showing observation cameras of both bridges.

“Thank you, Mica,” Viki said, watching the display for several seconds.

“The call, Dr. Rosnikov?” the computer reminded.

“Who is it?” she asked, trying hard to swallow the lump of fear that threatened to choke her heart.

“NASA.” Mica said.

“Yes!” Viki said. “Hello, this is Viktoria Rosnikov. Colton Taylor is unavailable right now. Can I help you?”

“Hello Doctor, this is Joshua Lange.” The man’s voice sounded tired, and struggling for composure. “I need to ask if you were really serious about putting together a rescue mission?”

***

Bridge of the Aquila, Ascending into Low Orbit:

“They’re breaking up to follow us,” Danielle said from the navigation seat. “Two groups of eight.”

“That figures,” Dave said across the comlink. “They’ve been backing down so they don’t over shoot us again. Smart pilots.”

“That gives us an advantage, doesn’t it?” Cole pointed out. “They’re ballistic. We’re not. They can’t afford the fuel to slow down and speed up over and over again. We can just sprint, and then brake until they can’t follow us.”

“We can try,” Dave agreed. “Like last time, but with two of us it’s going to get hard for them to shoot things unless we’re sitting still."

“Ok then,” Cole took charge of the battle plan like an old soldier. “On my mark, we reverse thrust until they have to give it up. If we squeeze between the two groups we can cross up their firing lines. We might be able to get out of this with only a few bullet holes."

“The down side is that they can just keep heading for Alpha. They know that’s where we’ll be eventually,” Sophie said from her station.

“Do you think they’d really shoot us up when we’re there to rescue their people?” Dani countered.

“Attention, Stormhaven Rescue Flight.” The voice of one of the pilots rolled from the com system. “This is Colonel Alexandra Harris of the US Air Force. Please do not take evasive action. We have been ordered to escort you to the disaster site and render assistance as possible. We are here to help.”

***

ISS Alpha:

The batteries in the lifeboat had only been designed to last for emergency descent, not for hours of communications work. As had the navigational systems. The tiny peroxide nozzles and miniscule fuel storage reservoirs on the ship were running dangerously low.

“Sergei,” Scott said. “It’s time for you to drop. You can’t stay here any longer without risking your safe landing.”

“Commander, I understand your concern, but we are not leaving. There is still —“ He was cut off by Scott rapping on the window. The two astronauts had been hanging where they could see each other’s faces through the port. Because they were on the dark side of the Earth, his visor was up and he shot Sergei his most intense steel glare.

“You will do as I said.” He looked around inside the dome of his helmet. All around him the construction crew hung in silence. Most staring at the beauty of the Earth floating serenely below them. The lights of India glistened like jewels in the dark velvet of the night side. “You’ve already had to shut down your high-gain radio because of battery failure, and if you don’t start down now, you’re not going to be able to use your thrusters. The igniters for your retro pack aren’t going to have enough power to light."

Hiroko sat strapped into her seat, looking at her fingers and not out the windows, obviously troubled with the idea that they’d be forced to save their own skin and leave the others behind. “I’m not letting you commit suicide,” Scott went on, “because of some misdirected sense of heroics."

“It is not heroics, Scott,” Sergei said, using the commander’s first name for the first time since Hammerthrow had commenced. “I just cannot let such brave group of men die up here without ...” He stopped, his voice cracking under the strain.

“Sergei, you have a new son.” Scott looked away to let the Russian compose himself with what dignity he could muster. “He’s the future. We’ll beat this damn asteroid. If a few of us die to get it done, then we’ve just got to pay that price.”

Scott pushed back from the nose of the Lifeboat, snapping his visor down just as the sun edged over the blue horizon. “Now, Godspeed Sergei. Get Hiroko home. And kiss your son for me.” He snapped a salute in classic military fashion, and turned his back on the ship. Inside his helmet tears welled up in his eyes, and he shook his head to fling them loose.

“Commander Rutledge,” a faint voice rattled in his ears. Unfamiliar. “Commander Rutledge, do you hear me?” The voice was stronger this time.

“Did you hear that?” Scott asked on the open channel, glancing down at his wrist readout to check his O2. “Nope, it’s not hypoxia,” he said quietly.

“No sir, it is not hypoxia. This is the Stormhaven carrier
Aquila
. We heard you need a ride home.”

***

Reversing the Wind

Washington:

President Hutton sat, along with 250 million other Americans around the country, trying to focus on watching the news. It was particularly hard for her. She glanced over at the empty chair where Al had been sitting, trying to carry the weight of the world on his failing heart. Her emotions had reached the point where they were suffocating, choking the life out of her desire to keep trying. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing and biting back on her feelings. She was the President, she reminded herself. She had to be strong in spite of how she felt inside. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, and tried to listen to the voice of Nichole Thompson.

She didn’t know who’d made the call to let Stormhaven launch their rescue mission, and it really didn’t matter. They’d launched at almost the same time that she’d been trying to do CPR on Al.

CPR. She coughed, pushing the thought to the back of her mind one more time.

Secretary Herman came into the room. Her door stood open and Janice knew she could use the company. He looked at the two chairs that normally sat in front of her desk. They were across the room, where they'd been moved so the doctor could work on Al. A crystal decanter of scotch sat on the coffee table in the sitting area. She nodded at it, offering him a drink. She’d already finished hers, and held it out for him to pour her another. He filled her glass but passed on having one himself. He sat down beside her and reached out a hand to hold her arm comfortingly. “Are you ok?” he asked.

She shook her head but said nothing. Refusing to make eye contact.

Across the room, Secretary Worthington paced, stopping occasionally to stare out the window at the White House lawn. He was a high-strung man, and his energy seemed laced with anger. Even now, when she was trying to focus on the news, he was distracting and brittle.

“William, sit down or go away,” she snapped. “You’re making me crazy."

“Sorry Ma’am,” he said, flopping down on the edge of her desk to glare.

“For those of you just tuning in,” Nichole said from the screen, “we are following the developing story of the explosion at the ISS Alpha, and the ongoing joint rescue efforts being conducted by the US Government and the private corporation of Stormhaven.”

“You may remember the story we ran a month ago when Colton Taylor made a spectacular, and controversial, orbital flight that lead to the government laying siege to his corporate community. Today in an impressive move, both parties decided to put aside their disagreement and mount this mission.” The picture of the launch facility in the background split into a screen that showed file footage of the
Dancing Star’s
launch.

“I understand that we are about to get live images from the bridge of the
Aquila
, one of the two ships involved in rescuing the survivors. As soon as we have the signal ... Oh wait. Here we are.” She paused to look at a monitor to her left, and her picture was replaced by an image from orbit.

“That can’t be real,” John gasped at the spacious bridge. “It looks like a sci-fi movie.”

“No kidding,” Sylvia agreed.

The camera panned slowly around the room, taking in pictures of the crew busily working on the rescue efforts. Nearly the entire upper surface of the bridge appeared to be windows, and through them a view of the twisted wreckage floated in a nightmarish tangle of contorted shapes.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “It is worse than I’d imagined."

In the foreground, Colton Taylor drifted into the frame. He was smiling grimly and shaking the hand of a very tired looking Scott Rutledge, his spacesuit still on. “Welcome to the
Aquila
. Stormhaven and the world are proud of you. Please accept our deepest sympathy for your fallen companions.” Cole’s voice cracked, but he went on. “Too many people have died in pursuit of this dream. Let’s hope this is the last time it has to happen for lack of a better option."

Today was his day. She knew they’d never be able to stop him again.

***

Bridge of the Aquila, ISS Disaster Site:

Scott frowned, watching as the two ships moved around the ISS. They were unbelievable. Huge beyond possibility. The stuff of childhood dreams that he’d never expected to see first-hand.

He was troubled not only by the catastrophe that had fallen on the station, but by the unimaginable disaster that now had become inevitable for humanity. He pushed back from the windows and floated across the cavernous space of the
Aquila’s
bridge.

Colton sat, strapped to his chair in the center of the bridge. His eyes flashed occasionally with an edge of steel, and Scott could tell he was fighting with some demon inside. He was talking with someone on a small screen in the center of his control panel. Hanging back, he recognized the voice as Joshua Lange. The two men were obviously familiar with each other and on a first name basis.