Authors: Steven Lyle Jordan
“He is,” Roy nodded, and drifted into the next section, followed by the officer and grunts. They entered the section, and Hollen immediately saw President Lambert, still strapped into his seat. The officer drifted over and smartly saluted from his drifting position.
“Commander Bob Hollen, sir. Are you all well?”
“Yes, we are,” Lambert replied, giving a cursory glance around him at his staff, Enu, and Shay Vaughn. “Everyone has been treated well. We have no complaints.”
“Very good, sir,” Hollen replied. “I have been ordered to search this craft for weapons or explosives.”
Lambert nodded. “Carry on, Commander.”
Hollen saluted once more, then looked at Roy. “Take me to your engine bay.”
“Ah,” Roy nodded. “Expect we keep a lot of weapons in our engine bay?” Hollen glared back at him silently, and after a moment, Roy shrugged. “No problem. I think you’ll get everything you need back there.”
The group drifted aft, as the passengers stared silently from their seats, only daring to speak when the soldiers were past them, and only in hushed whispers. Roy brought them into the small bay that bordered the passenger spaces and the engine bays, where the officers were confronted with half a dozen people, plus two Verdant security men, standing outside of a closed door. Another half-dozen people, Roy’s freighter crew, stood about near the open door to the engine bay. Hollen stopped in front of the group of people by the closed door, and used a quick motion of his hand to send one of his men down into the open door of the engine bay to their left.
Hollen indicated the closed door. “Open it.”
Valeria Epstein drifted forward from the group of technicians. “Not so fast,” she said bravely.
Hollen eyed her. “Are you Doctor Jacqueline Silver?”
“No, I’m Doctor Valeria Epstein.” Valeria’s voice had a hint of nervousness about it, but she gamely stood up to the Commander as she had been instructed. “Dr. Silver was very wisely ordered to stay on Verdant. The only people who made this trip are those who were taught to operate the machinery.” She pointed hesitantly at his sidearm. “This ship is considered sovereign Verdant territory. You are required to disarm and submit to a recorder search, if you want to get in there.”
“Is that so?” Hollen gestured for the soldiers to come forward.
“This bay is rigged to explode, destroying its contents, if the door is tampered with,” Valeria added quickly. The soldiers stopped moving forward. “Any one of us here can trigger it at will. And I imagine your bosses wouldn’t look too kindly on you destroying something they’d love to get a good look at… not to mention probably killing your President.”
Hollen glanced meaningfully at one of the grunts, who removed a small scanner from a leg pouch and approached the door. He used the scanner to study the perimeter of the door, and after a moment, he nodded to the Commander.
Valeria, sensing they had the upper hand, swelled a bit with newfound confidence and cocked an eyebrow at him. “If you want to verify there are no weapons in there, you disarm now. What’ll it be?”
Hollen considered his options. Finally, he removed his sidearm and handed it to one of his own grunts. Then he extended his arms and waited. One of the Verdant security officers came forward and searched him by hand, while the other directed a scanner at him.
Roy stood by, and after a moment, he glanced at Valeria, who was wringing her hands at her sides. “You okay?” he whispered to her.
“I’m fine,” she replied quietly, although she barely sounded like she meant it. “We’re all going to be fine. If I don’t throw up.” Roy smiled at her in encouragement.
After the extensive search of Hollen, one officer nodded to the other, who then turned to Valeria. “He’s clean.”
“Good,” Valeria said. “Open it up.”
“And tell your men to go search elsewhere,” Roy said amiably, hooking a thumb at the grunts.
“Search the rest of the ship,” Hollen ordered his men, as one of the techs unlocked and opened the door to the bay. Once the door to the bay was open, Valeria drifted inside, glancing nervously back at Hollen, who followed close behind. Roy came up behind them.
Inside, Hollen stared at the quantum translation equipment. Valeria watched him, and although he tried to maintain his air of command, it was clear to her that he had no idea what he was looking at.
“This,” Valeria told him, “is the machine that got us here. Get a good look.” Hollen eyed her suspiciously, but nonetheless he moved closer, examining the device as well as he was able without touching it. The explosive packs wired around the room were evident, and it was clear that, although the explosives were probably not enough to penetrate the hull, they would be enough to pulp whatever was in the room. And as for the machine itself, he could see no sign that it was in any way dangerous.
Valeria asked, “Convinced it’s not a weapon?”
“Not really,” Hollen said. “But I can’t prove it is, either. So we’re done in here.”
They left the bay, and a tech closed the door and locked it behind them. At that moment, the other soldier came out of the open engine bay and pronounced, “It’s clean.”
Hollen nodded and gestured forward. Then he turned and drifted back towards the bay containing the President, Roy not far behind him. When Hollen reached the President, he saluted and said, “Sir, do you have any reason to believe this ship is rigged as a weapon, or poses any threat to American citizens if we allow it to land?”
“No, I do not,” Lambert said calmly.
“There is a bay to the rear, which these people maintain is classified drive technology.”
“Yes,” Lambert said. “We’ve seen it in action. It’s not a weapon, it’s for real.”
“Yes, sir. By your permission, I will aid in searching the rest of the freighter.” Lambert nodded, and Hollen saluted again and drifted off.
They waited for twenty minutes while Hollen and the grunts went through the freighter, scanning packages and crates, and poking into every nook and cranny they could find. They spent a significant amount of time in the engine bay, even bringing in another man from the transport, and shooing out all
Makalu
personnel while they were there, until they finally exited the engine bay and resumed their searching. Finally, Hollen drifted over to Roy and Valeria and stopped before them.
“Our ships will escort you to a designated landing field,” Hollen told him. “We will send you the flight plan before we de-orbit. Failure to adhere to the flight plan could result in your being shot down.”
“With the President and all these civilians aboard?” Roy pointed out. “Hell of a thing to do to the first American citizens to ever visit Mars.”
Hollen glanced at his men, and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, signaling his men to go. Then he turned back to Roy and held up a gloved hand. In it was a small box, an industrial device used as a trigger to set off explosives. It took a moment before Roy recognized the device, and when he did, his eyes popped.
“We found this,” Hollen explained, “in your engine bay. Someone had placed it so that, if it went off, it would probably disable your engines. Depending on when it went off, it could have killed everyone aboard. We’ve deactivated it, and will be taking it aboard our ship. Hope you don’t mind.”
Roy visibly blanched as he stared at the device. Valeria stared at both of the men as well as the device, and as the implications reached her, she began to turn pale as well. Finally Roy nodded and said, “Thanks, Commander.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hollen said wryly, and turned to follow his men. “Wait for our signal,” he threw over his shoulder. Then he floated into the airlock himself. Roy followed him, to lock up the airlock behind him.
Once they were out of sight, Valeria visibly shrank upon herself, blinking rapidly, and quivered in nervous exhaustion. “Now,” she muttered, “I think I’m going to throw up.”
~
The ash-filled air over Colorado roiled, as a phalanx of craft roared through it bound for Denver. Two Raptor fighters flew the lead, followed by the
Makalu
in loose formation. The two Wasp fighters flew in the
Makalu
’s flanks, and those five ships were followed by six more Raptors.
The freighter took its time through the ash, forcing the fighters to fly almost at their stalling velocity to avoid outrunning the larger ship. Haylee was grim and slightly pale as she fought the controls of the
Makalu
through the turbulent atmosphere. Roy sat at his station behind her, clutching the control boards with white knuckles as they were jostled about. The passengers were doing no better, between the unusual experience of traveling through such significant turbulence, and in a craft that did not have counter-sonics to deaden the noise inside the cabin. There were a number of cries of alarm at the frequent bucking and pitching that the freighter suffered.
Maria Rios tried to stay as quiet as she could, considering she suspected she was the only one in the presidential section of the seating who did not know her companions. But when an unexpected drop in altitude managed to frighten most of the passengers, she happened to glance over at a much younger girl sitting next to her, whose eyes were wide with fright. Without knowing she was doing it, she reached out, and they locked hands in support. The girl gave her a fleeting smile, before another bump pulled her eyes away from Maria.
If only this were Erin
, she found herself thinking.
She should be here to see—
Another drop in altitude broke her concentration… and with it, a double-bump from deep inside her chest. Maria froze.
Oh, God, not now
…
Abruptly, they penetrated the ash layer, and the Makalu found itself in a more conventional cloud layer. The turbulence lessened considerably, and passengers began to ease back into their seats again. Moments later, they left the cloud layer, and were flying over dark, but relatively clear skies.
As they approached the designated field, within the grounds of the Rocky Mountain Arsenal and not far south of the High House, a chance opening of cloud allowed a wide shaft of evening sun to illuminate the field, and the ships. The
Makalu
followed the fighters to its prepared landing pad, and as it approached, the fighters arched off and headed for their own landing locations. The freighter eased down towards a pad near a large warehouse, Haylee having little trouble operating a ship that was normally capable of carrying hundreds of tons of cargo, and was getting little workout from a bay full of passengers and luggage. When they were over the landing site, Haylee put the ship down so lightly that the shock absorbers compressed, but did not bounce.
“Nice job,” Roy told her as she began to cycle down the engines. Haylee smiled back at him, and he tried not to show that he’d noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Then he triggered the intercom. “Folks, we’ve touched down in Denver. I imagine the local authorities have some procedures to go through, so just be patient and wait for their okay to disembark.”
In the bay, the passengers were already unbuckling their harnesses and collecting their things, then milling about and waiting for something to happen.
That something didn’t take long. Haylee said, “Hey, Cap,” and pointed to an external camera. They could see a number of soldiers tromping out to the freighter and stationing themselves within view of every airlock and bay opening, rifles un-slung. Once the freighter was effectively surrounded, a senior officer walked up to the craft, and using the butt of a pistol, knocked on the hull below the main airlock.
Roy smiled slightly… then he hit a stud that activated the airlock’s boarding ramp. The ramp started out noisily, trundling right at the officer’s forehead, and he had to duck unceremoniously to avoid having his cap knocked off.
Then Roy said, “Okay, I guess this is it.” He ambled off to the airlock corridor, while Haylee continued with the shutdown procedures through shaking hands. Roy reached the airlock, unsealed it, and slid the door open. He was relieved to see none of the soldiers were actually training their rifles at him… but only just.
The officer whom he had almost brained with the ramp, stepped to the front of the ramp, and waited at its foot. Roy obligingly came down the ramp and stopped, standing by virtue of the ramp a head taller than the officer.
“I am General Adam Boulle, or the United States Aerospace Force,” the officer said by way of introduction.
“Nice to meet you,” Roy said. “I’m Captain Roy Grand, attached to Verdant.” He extended a hand, which the General accepted.
“I understand the President is aboard,” Boulle said. “Is he free to leave your ship?”
“Of
course
he is,” Roy replied, as if the General had asked something purely asinine. “Every non-Verdant citizen on this ship is free to leave… that’s why we brought them. And who will I be speaking to about the cargo promised us?”
“It’s stored nearby,” the General replied. “After we get some other things settled, we’ll release it to you.”
“Then let’s get things started,” Roy said, waving a hand at his ship. “Feel free to go aboard and assist your President.”
“That won’t be necessary,” came a voice from the airlock door. Roy looked up to see Lambert there, and a few of his staffers waiting behind him.
The General saluted smartly. “Welcome home, Mister President,” he called up.
“Good to be back,” Lambert said, and didn’t even try to sound sincere. He stepped off of the freighter, followed close behind by Enu Thompson. Other staffers followed them, and Shay Vaughn followed closely behind the first group. General Boulle gestured, and from inside the warehouse, a small fleet of black vehicles rolled out. They stopped in front of the group, and a door opened before them. Lambert, Thompson, Shay and one staffer entered the first vehicle. The other staffers climbed into the other vehicles, handing their bags off to drivers that deposited them into open trunks, or the last vehicles in line. Within minutes, the vehicles pulled away, tracing a long black line northward, towards the High House.
Roy watched the line of limos drive away, before he turned back to see the first of the rest of the passengers stepping down from the airlock ramp. Soldiers closest to the ramp indicated that the passengers should enter the hangar nearby, and as there didn’t seem to be any place else to go, they filed in that direction as they were told. A few of them had apparently been shaken by the rough trip, and Roy watched as passengers were being helped down the ramp by others, and being examined by a medical team that was standing by before the entrance to the hangar. One woman seemed so weak that she was being supported by a man and a woman on either side of her. A medic ran forward to intercept them, and within moments a wheelchair was summoned for her. Roy noted that she was tired, but conscious, as she was wheeled away to the hangar.