The Omega Command (41 page)

“Money? None. I want the shuttle. It launches within one hour or I push the button.”

“
What?
That’s … impossible!”

“A dry run is close enough to the real thing to make the necessary changes, Mr. Jamrock.”

“No, we can’t work that way. The program’s different since reactivation. We can’t take chances. Lives are at stake.”

“My point exactly. One hour.”

Jamrock searched for a way out, couldn’t find one. “Why?” he managed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Is this communication line open?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can anyone else hear what we’re saying, dammit?”

“A few,” Jamrock admitted. “I put out the emergency signal.”

“Well, I hope they’ve got top security clearances,” Blaine said into his mouthpiece, gun still held on the pilot and copilot. “This isn’t a random act, Mr. Jamrock, nor is it political. I know the basis of
Pegasus
’s mission tomorrow. Only tomorrow will be too late.”

“What are you talking about?”

“
Adventurer
was destroyed by something in space and you’re sending
Pegasus
up to return the favor. This shuttle’s armed with laser cannons that may or may not be a match for what it’s going to be taking on upstairs.”

“How do you—”

“It doesn’t matter. I know what we’re fighting here. I know what it’s capable of and I know who put it up there. And I know what’s going to happen at eight o’clock tonight if it isn’t destroyed. But most of all I know the damn thing’s coordinates so you brains down here can plot an intercept course heading.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Jamrock gasped, realizing he was.

“You’ve got to trust me.”

“How can I trust someone who’s trying to hijack a space shuttle?”

“I’m not trying, Jamrock. I’ve already done it. And don’t even bother considering anything melodramatic like a commando raid because it won’t work and a lot of innocent people would get blown up for the effort.”

Jamrock hesitated. He needed to stall while security got a fix on what was going on. The FBI was already on the way.

“I need specifics. Names, dates, explanations of who’s behind these … things you allege.”

“There’s no time. If you haven’t called the President yet, you’re about to. Let me speak to him.” Blaine smiled faintly. “Tell him it’s McCrackenballs, and I’m ready to bust some more nuts.”

Chapter 33

THE CUBICLE CONTAINING
the direct line to the White House was hot and stuffy, suffering from poor ventilation. Jam-rock completed a summary of what had just happened.

“Did the shuttle commander confirm the existence of these explosives?” the President asked at the end.

“He’s no expert but he said they’ve got the potential to cause a big bang. Security’s already issued me a report on how they could take the shuttle back. We’ve got contingencies for this sort of—”

“No!” the President ordered. “Under no circumstances will you do anything of the kind. You don’t know who we’re dealing with here. Just trust me.”

“That’s what McCracken said.”

“Well, maybe we should.”

“Sir?”

“Patch a line through to him for me, Nate. Let’s hear what he’s got to say.”

“We tried to locate you after you called in from Newport,” the President told Blaine minutes later. “Stimson’s death knocked us for a loop. We didn’t realize it was you he was still running.”

“Somebody made it hard for me to drop by. As they say, there’s a price on my head.”

“Placed by whom?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve still got fifty-one minutes until your launch.”

And Blaine highlighted as best he could the events of the last ten days from Easton’s discovery and subsequent murder, to its connection with Sahhan and the PVR; from the shootout at Madame Rosa’s, to his trip to Paris which led him to San Melas and Krayman Industries’ second army. Here he switched tracks to the discoveries made by Sandy Lister, confirmed and elaborated on by Simon Terrell. Finally, Blaine related the events on Horse Neck Island and his subsequent trip to Florida. In all, the story took twenty minutes to tell, a labyrinth journey of death and violence leading, perhaps irrevocably, to a new system of order in the United States.

“And you say these Krayman people are everywhere?” the President asked.

“They’re Hollins people now but, yes, everywhere it matters. They’re poised to take control. No one’s above suspicion. You’ve got to be as careful as I do.”

“What can I do?”

“Order the shuttle to launch, Mr. President,” McCracken told him. “We’ve got to intercept that satellite before it begins transmitting its signal.”

“And Sahhan’s troops?”

“According to the contingency plan, they won’t mobilize until the satellite does its part. Without the satellite they’ll be neutralized and so will the mercenaries.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“I don’t mean to. It’s anything but. Just because
Pegasus
goes up doesn’t necessarily mean it’s going to succeed. If it doesn’t, you’ll have to stop Sahhan with more conventional methods. I’d recommend putting some contingency wheels of our own in motion now, like preparing the army to mobilize into all major cities. Otherwise lots of people might not be opening their Christmas presents next year.”

“Right,” the President said. Then after a pause he spoke again. “I’m going to order Jamrock to get the shuttle up as soon as he can. I don’t suppose there’s any way of persuading you to vacate the cockpit.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then have a nice flight.”

“You don’t mind, fella, I’d appreciate you puttin’ that thing down now,” Captain Petersen requested, his eyes on Blaine’s pistol.

“I feel better with it in my hand.”

“Look, I’m on your side. If you can help us find the damn thing we’re supposed to shoot down, I say fuck the rest of ’em. But have you ever been up in a space ship before?”

“I was always good on roller coasters.”

“Yeah, well, multiply that feeling by about five and you’ve got yourself three Gs, which is what we’ll be facing at takeoff. Better men than you have passed out from the pressure.”

“I brought my Dramamine.”

“
We are at T-minus twenty-two minutes to lift-off.
”

Activity at both the Johnson Space Center in Houston and Kennedy Space Center in Florida became frantic with the announcement that the dry run had become the real thing. Personnel scurried about, the most practical ones stealing a few minutes to toss plastic covers over their cars to prevent damage from the hot dust the launch would scatter over a quarter-mile radius.

“
We are at T-minus twenty minutes
. …”

The emergency alarm had shrilled through the base for a full minute after the launch order was received from the White House.

“
This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. Emergency launch procedures now in effect. Emergency launch procedures now in effect.
”

Since the run-through included all the procedures of the actual launch, the
Pegasus
crews in both Houston and Florida were able to pick up where the drill left off, albeit with a faster stride and more resolute approach. The only problem encountered thus far had been a burned-out motor in the gantry which had to be moved from the launching pad before
Pegasus
could take off. The Florida ground crew ended up towing it out of the way with the help of two bulldozers.

“
We are at T-minus twelve minutes
. …”

“
All systems are go. All light are green.
”

On board
Pegasus
Captain Petersen was helping Blaine strap himself into takeoff position, with the gun still making him nervous as he tightened the straps around McCracken’s waist and chest.

“I hope you plan on puttin’ that thing away before we take off, fella.”

“Just as soon as you’re strapped in too, Commander,” Blaine told him, his eyes on the ever-silent copilot as well.

“Yeah, well, since you don’t trust me, you should keep in mind that if I wanted to make this the shortest flight you ever took, all I’d have to do would be to leave one of your straps unfastened. The G-forces at lift-off would send you bouncin’ ’round the cabin wall to wall. But don’t worry, fella, I fastened them all ’cause I believe ya and I know you’re the best chance we got once we hit the sky.”

Blaine flicked his pistol’s safety on and wedged it beneath his seat.

“That’s better,” sighed a relieved Petersen. “Now we can get the final check under way. …”

“
We are at T-minus four minutes
. …”

When the final check was complete, with all systems operating satisfactorily, Petersen turned back to McCracken.

“You wanna hear the flight plan?”

Blaine found he was squeezing the arms of the seat through his thick gloves. “I’ve got nothing else to do at the moment.”

Petersen smiled. “Two minutes after lift-off, the SRBs— that’s the solid rocket boosters—will be automatically ejected. The main engines—SSME system—will continue blasting us toward orbit for another seven minutes or so. Once they cut off, that monster of a propellant tank will jettison and we’ll enter a low, oval orbit.”

“
We are at T-minus sixty seconds to launch. … Fifty-five
…”

“I’ll fill you in on the rest later,” Petersen said, and turned back to his three monitors flashing a constantly changing display of data.

“
Fifty…
”

There was really nothing for Petersen to do at this point. Everything connected with launch procedures was handled by computer from Houston. He felt more like a passenger than a pilot.

“
We are at T-minus thirty seconds. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven
…”

Blaine felt his teeth chattering. A horrible sensation of dread filled him. He fought down the urge to tear his straps away and pop the escape hatch to flee this nightmare. He closed his eyes and steadied himself. His whole frame had begun to twitch.

“Good luck,” said Nathan Jamrock into his mouthpiece.

“
T-minus twenty seconds and counting. T-minus fifteen, fourteen, thirteen … T-minus ten
…”

The monstrous lift-off rockets beneath
Pegasus
had begun to fire. The spacecraft rumbled and seemed to tremble in eager anticipation of its launch.

“
T-minus five … We have gone for main engine start
. …”

A thunderous roar found Blaine’s ears. Those in the observation area saw a blinding spout of orange and yellow flames burst out from the shuttle’s base, intermixed with a rush of erupting steam.

“Main engines and solid rocket boosters firing!” a voice said inside Blaine’s helmet.

The ground shook and threatened to break open. A quake of heat rolled across the miles of empty land surrounding the launch pad.

“We have lift-off!” a voice bellowed.

Pegasus
rose patiently into the air, seemingly unburdened by all the frantic activity that had preceded her rise. The majesty and glamour of the event was totally lost on McCracken. His entire frame felt as if it had been squeezed into a crate a third its size. There was pressure from both above and below, seeming to compress his head closer and closer to his toes. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t find his voice. He knew he was breathing, but the action felt separate from himself. He was convinced he was choking to death, and he would have groped for his throat had he been able to free his arms from the rests. Finally he gave up and forced his shoulders back against his suit as far as they would go. He was vaguely conscious of a slight smoothing of
Pegasus’s
track and of words being exchanged rapidly in his headset.

“
Pegasus
, this is Houston Cap-Com,” came the voice of NASA’s capsule communicator. “You’re flying a few degrees higher than your planned trajectory. Should be no problem, but expect a slightly higher release altitude for SRBs and SSMEs.”

“Roger, Houston,” said Petersen.

A little over two minutes later Blaine heard the Houston Cap-Com announce that the SRBs had been released from the shuttle. This left
Pegasus
to be carried up by the thrust of its three main engines. McCracken was more relaxed now, breathing easier, but still he felt disjointed, as if he were riding some dizzying amusement ride he couldn’t get off. Three minutes into the flight,
Pegasus
was traveling at 6,200 feet per second. At six minutes that pace had more than doubled. McCracken’s heart was pounding at twice its normal rate. Through a side window he watched the earth shrinking away.

Less than a minute later the shuttle’s nose angled down to increase velocity. When its tip came up again, its speed had risen to more than 16,000 feet per second.

It was nine minutes into the flight when Blaine felt something buckle, as if someone had applied the brakes briefly.

“Houston, we have main engine cutoff,” Petersen reported.

Blaine felt his stomach make a determined leap for his throat, until a sudden shift in the shuttle’s trajectory forced it to drop for his feet.

“
Pegasus
, this is Houston. Propellant tank is away. Good work with the wheel, Captain.”

“That’s a roger, Houston. Thanks for your help.”

The sensation Blaine had felt had been an evasive maneuver enacted by the flight computers to steer
Pegasus
away from the free-falling tank.

He could have used some Dramamine after all.

“What is your altitude,
Pegasus
?”

“Houston, we read altitude at one oh five miles and climbing. Twin orbital maneuvering engines burning now. Climbing toward one seven five nautical-mile orbit.”

“Roger,
Pegasus
. We show all systems go. You’ll be passing out of range of our Bermuda tracking station in seconds. We’ll catch up with you over Madrid.”

“
Si, señor
,” said Petersen.

“What’s happening now?” Blaine asked the commander a few minutes later.

“To begin with, we’ve achieved initial orbit. But we’re still climbing and the orbit will change slightly as we do. Eventually it’ll become elliptical for maximum maneuverability once we reach our cruising altitude and proceed on our intercept heading.” Petersen adjusted his headset. “Here’s the strategy. We’re going to assume the same orbit
Adventurer
did when it ran into this thing. Since we’ve got the advantage of knowing exactly where it’s gonna be at eight o’clock, thanks to you, the flight computers will time our course to insure that we meet up with the bastard somewhere over the Pacific before it begins its pass over the country. Things happen pretty fast at seventeen thousand miles per hour, but we’ve got a few minutes to play with.”