Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (51 page)

She’d been skirting the rim of the crater for the last twenty hours to get to the gradually sloping edge of the north wall. She’d considered a more direct route, through the broken region on the southern rim, but she wasn’t sure if the MPL’s autonav could manage the more rugged terrain, so she’d opted for the longer but more certain path. Even though the crater was just sixty miles across, at the feeble five miles an hour that the Lab averaged, it seemed an eternity that she’d been staring at the ridge.

Her intended goal lay along the southern rim, where the flat basin intersected the steeply sloping bowl of the crater wall itself. If she was right, the area would provide a good construction site. The residential structures could be sheltered from the sun on the terraced inner slope while the necessary support facilities could spread out across the flatlands.

Once the Lab’s autonav managed to make the descent to the floor, she planned to take the quad and race ahead to see if there were any features deserving a more detailed survey. The sixty miles would take the MPL close to twelve hours to navigate autonomously, but she could cover the distance in less than two on the quad.

She’d explained her plan to NASA and they’d pointed out that the electroquad had insufficient range to make the transit in both directions. If something held the Lab up, she might find herself walking home. They’d said no, but she knew the reality of the situation required taking chances. Never again would there be a place for a conservative space program. In her mind it was an acceptable risk, especially with the sun setting soon.

The instant the vehicle leveled out and she knew that she wasn’t going to have to take over from the computer, she unpacked the quad and hit the surface.

“I’m out and rolling,” she said to anyone listening on the low-gain system.

“I copy that Susan,” Randy said, his reply announcing that he was back from Earth with more supplies and the new engineer.

“Welcome back.” She grinned realizing it had been six days since he’d left. “I’m all the way out to Plato.” She bounced over the gently rolling regolith.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said.

“Really, where are you?” She glanced around almost expecting to see him landing behind her.

“Just clearing the horizon to your right. You should have a good view. We’re still in bright sun and you’re looking at sundown soon.”

“I see you,” she said, watching the TLS slipping upward above the rim of the crater. A bright spark climbing across the sky.

“So, why are you out on a quad so close to sunset?” he said. “You don’t know how dark it gets out there."

“That’s why I’m making the mad dash. I want to see the site before it gets too dark to explore.” The quad shot off a small ledge and arced over the surface in what would have been an impossibly dangerous move on Earth. Her heart skipped a beat in instinctive panic before she realized that the ten feet she flew over the ground wasn’t that bad. Even so, she eased back on the throttle.

“I figured,” he said, “but since you’ve never walked in the dark with a handbeam, I just thought I’d give you the boogie-man speech.”

“I appreciate that but I plan on being back in the MPL before nightfall.” The terrain evened out and with only rocks and small craters to dodge, she pushed the speed up again.

“They don’t let me land in the dark without lights and a pad, so you’re on your own for two weeks if you get stuck.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been running solar all the way, so I’ve got plenty of batteries and the fuel cells are still up. I’ll be fine,” she said.

“Probably so,” he said. “I’m going to lose line-of-site in a couple seconds. Anything you need to say before I’m over the hill?”

“Nope,” she said, drifting to the left to angle up onto a small ridge so that she could see further over the crater rim. “Hopefully I’ll have this nailed down in one stop and I’ll see you a few days after the sun comes up.”

“Negative on me being in the shop when you get back,” he said. “They just beamed me a new schedule and I’ve got very few hours on the ground. They’re wanting me to drop these cans in the dump-zone and scoot downhill for another crew transfer.”

“Really? Already?” She slowed and skewed up a steep slope hoping to keep him in LoS for another few seconds.

“Yeah. They’re sending us six more bodies over the next couple weeks.” His voice began to drift into a wall of static. “Looks like we’ll be sleeping two to a bed for a while.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said into the hissing comlink.

The surface of the ridge she’d climbed fractured down, and she skidded to a stop just before she shot over the edge. The regolith behaved like ice.

Randy had been right.
This is a dangerous and unforgiving place,
she thought, easing the quad around and back down the slope toward the flat crater floor.

***

Stormhaven:

Colton stood in the Communications Center staring at the clouds of dust being kicked up by the military vehicles that were spreading out along the fence line. Viki had said things were starting to look grim, but it wasn’t in Colton’s nature to look at downside risk. He was working toward an opportunity, even if he wasn’t sure exactly how that was going to happen yet.

He’d been listening to the news ever since he’d gotten the message from Carter Anthony, hoping to string something together with what he’d said.
Problems in the supply chain?

So far there was nothing that connected up and a few days ago he’d noticed a shift in the tone of the national news services. Nothing overt, but there were things that just didn’t ring true. Sour notes in the symphony that slipped by unnoticed, unless you knew the song and had perfect pitch. It grated on Colton at a fundamental level, so he’d disconnected himself from his usual torrential intake of information, preferring the silence to ...
to what?
Lies?

The day after Norman Anderson was killed, the truth had begun to drift, and Colton could see what had caused it. The President had coalesced her hold on the situation, and that meant the military units outside were going to be a lot more likely to use force. As he watched, they were rolling a lot more pain onto the field.

“This is insane,” Viki said, walking up behind him.

“You’re the expert on that, Dr. Rosnikov,” he said, glancing at her sideways. “I’m just wondering which of us you’re talking about.” He turned and leaned back against the glass wall. He knew she could see his inner turmoil, and he didn’t care. He was already tired, and this was only the beginning. The road ahead, assuming they could get past these bumpy parts, was going to be a long and gruesome struggle.

“You can’t see that miracle we need, can you?” she said, watching him, trying to read his thoughts.

“Yes... No... Maybe,” he confessed with a shrug. “I know something’s waiting to break, I just can’t see where it’s hidden.” Behind him the Lightning patrol banked and headed straight toward the window, so close to the ground that dust spun into a vortex behind their wingtips. Swooping up in the last instant, they roared overhead, rattling the furniture in the room. Viki flinched and nearly dove for the floor, but Cole stood as immobile as a stone. “Bastards,” he said under his breath.

“Mr. Taylor,” Mica said, “you have an International call from Ambassador Kuromori."

“Put him through,” Cole said, feeling a small touch of hope.

“Good morning Ambassador Kuromori,” Colton said as his face appeared on the wallscreen.

“Good morning to you as well,” Kuromori said. He was smiling broadly. A good sign. “We have just completed the review of your proposal. I apologize for the delay, but the review of the science was ... somewhat daunting. You have assembled an impressive body of work.”

“Thank you,” Cole said. “We’ve had many years working on these ideas. It’s not something that happened overnight.”

“Perhaps so,” Kuromori said. “But brilliance of this magnitude is a rare gift.”

“You flatter me,” Cole said. “Please, tell me about the other side of the proposal. Is it something that we can move forward with?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “My government is at this very moment working on ratifying the terms of the Agreement without reservation.”

“Wonderful,” Cole said, his smile rising to match the Ambassador’s.

“Since we have discontinued our supply missions to the International Space Station, President Mito of JAXA has informed me that he is ready to put the entirety of our space facilities behind the effort,” he said. “One thing he has suggested is that we currently have eighty-six fully trained astronauts in our corps. If you feel it would be a benefit, we can place them at your disposal. He believes a cross-training program for flight personnel could be mutually advantageous.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Cole said. “Right now we’ve only got one qualified astronaut, and the five others that were on the
Dancing Star
for its maiden flight, none of whom have any real experience.” He glanced out the window, holding up a finger as the Lightnings made another pass. They were getting far more assertive about their over-flights, and the rumble was almost enough that Cole expected to see plaster falling from the ceiling.

“I see your situation has not improved,” Kuromori said.

“Actually, it’s seems to be deteriorating,” Cole admitted. “They’re bringing reinforcements. We’ve probably got 3,000 troops outside, and we just got a report from one of our security officers that they’re still unloading from a railhead about seventy miles from here.”

“That is interesting,” he said. “The US media is saying the situation has been resolved. Obviously there is some serious misrepresentation of the facts.”

“I should say so,” Cole said. “If we don’t catch a break soon, I’d say it’s possible that our alliance may be dead before we start.”

“I had hoped that, between our petition in the World Court and our motion for UN peacekeeping intervention, we would be able to bring about a more amicable resolution to the matter,” the Ambassador said. “Perhaps I underestimated President Hutton’s determination.”

“She’s definitely showing how she wants to resolve things,” Cole said.

“This is unacceptable,” Kuromori said, anger flashing in his eyes. “I will call Secretary Herman and see if I can’t persuade him that this pursuit of violence would result in an undesirable amount of collateral damage to our diplomatic relations."

“Good luck,” Cole said.

“And to you, my friend,” Kuromori signed off.

As the screen went blank he turned to Viki, grinning like a child in a candy store. “I know where the break’s coming,” he said without explanation.

“You do?” she asked, confusion evident on her face, but he didn’t care.

“Mica, get Daryl in here,” he said, opening a drawing program on the tabletop and sketching furiously.

Viki slipped out, but Cole didn’t notice. If he had, he’d have known she was wondering about his mental wiring.

***

Sacramento, California:

Governor Andrea Jameson sat behind her massive oak desk, drumming on the leather bound blotter. She was gritting her teeth in spite of herself. The ACLU had just brought a suit against the State, representing a group of undocumented aliens who had missed an amnesty deadline and were now claiming the State had denied them their rights by not allowing an extension.

She’d tried to explain it had been a federal program and not anything the state had control over, but they’d argued the State had a responsibility to represent its residents’ interests, and if necessary to defend them against the Federal Government.

While she’d been sitting here listening to their ridiculous and unjustified claims, they’d had another lawyer filing the case. Two minutes after they’d walked out, the Attorney General had called to let her know.

“Excuse me AJ,” Manuel Olivera said, appearing at her door. The Lieutenant Governor had been waiting in the outer office while she’d finished up with the Attorney General.

“Yeah, take a number Manny,” she said, almost snarling. She pushed herself back from the desk and threw her arms up in frustration.

“Tough day?” he asked, settling into the chair across from her, waiting for her to vent. She always unloaded on him and she knew it wasn’t right, but they’d been friends since grade school, and it was the way it worked.

“You haven’t heard about the lawsuit yet, have you?” she said. “Remember that bunch of undocumenteds we had that blew their chance for Amnesty? They’ve just filed a twenty-million dollar suit.”

“Against the State?” he said. “It was the Feds that refused an extension.”

“They’re saying we failed to protect their rights against Washington,” she said, shaking her head. “I know it’s pure bullshit, but they think they’ve got legs. I expect they left here and headed straight over to the Press Club to announce it.”

“Is Max ready to stop them?” he said.

She shook her head. “He got blindsided like the rest of us.” Maxwell Graham usually was way ahead of the game, but lately he’d been a little distracted.

She glanced over his shoulder at her wallscreen and saw one of the men that had just left her office step up behind a podium. “There they are,” she said. She reached for the remote as her secretary buzzed her intercom.