The Forever Hero (10 page)

“Red three! Red three! Lieutenant Gerswin to the Ops center. Lieutenant Gerswin to the Ops center. Red three!”

Gerswin yanked on his boots and palmed the exit panel stud, ignoring the chimes from his own console. He could learn more once he was in Operations.

Moving through the portal at double time, he twisted and flipped himself to the side to avoid the other man in the corridor.

“Excuse me, Commander.” The pilot snapped off a quick salute.

“Don't mind me, Mister Gerswin. Just get to Ops.”

“Yes, ser,” Gerswin said over his shoulder.

He could see Commander Lancolnia's reflection in the metallic joints between the building sections. The commander was still shaking his head as Gerswin turned the corner toward the tunnel from his quarters to the Ops center.

While Operations was protected by a double portal, only a single guard was stationed at the entry console, not surprisingly, since the entire complex was secured, built to take the worst the weather and the locals—what few ventured from the shambletown—could dish out.

“Lieutenant Gerswin.”

He offered his pass and slammed his palm onto the console screen.

“Captain Matsuko said for you to meet him at G.C., ser.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, ser.”

Gerswin went through the portals on a double bounce, feet scarcely touching the tiles.

Ground control was fifty meters down the operations corridor, directly beneath the low control tower that crouched over the bunker. The tower monitored both the flitter approaches, as well as the infrequent shuttles from the few I.S.S. ships to visit Old Earth.

Captain Matsuko was waiting, standing behind the three consoles monitoring the flitters and the field traffic.

“Interrogative power status, Outrider three. Interrogative power status.”

“Port thruster in the yellow. Point seven zero. Starboard in the red. Point five zero and falling.”

Matsuko drew Gerswin aside.

“Zeigler took three out, with Frantz as copilot. Topographic profiles, shot at an angle, for the ecologists. Zeigler hit a sheer line wrong, forgot to lock his harness, hit the overhead. Out cold.”

“You need me to get her back? Talk her in?”

“Stet.”

Gerswin pulled a seat up to the center console and scanned the screens, trying to assimilate the position of the disabled flitter and the meteorological data.

Without thinking, his head was shaking.

“Outrider three, Gerswin here. Interrogative full power on starboard thruster.”

“Point five at the detente.”

“Interrogative altitude and airspeed.”

“Altitude is one thousand minus. Airspeed is one fifty. Rate of descent is one hundred per minute on full power. Estimated time on starboard thruster is two to five minutes.”

Gerswin looked at Matsuko, blanking the comm link.

“She's over the rock piles. Take her more than six minutes to clear.”

His eyes took in the displays, measuring, trying to calculate a vector to the flatlands or even the plains hills that would not force her to cross the sheer line again.

The line that had crippled the pilot and the flitter was nearly stationary, due east of Outrider three.

“Turn one six five.”

“Turning one six five. Power on starboard thruster is point four and falling. Power on port is point six. Altitude above ground nine hundred minus.”

Gerswin watched as the blip, representing the flitter edged more southward toward the flattest terrain possible.

“Outrider three. Lag factor on that radalt is fifty meters. Lag factor is fifty meters.”

“Stet. Lag factor is fifty.”

“Interrogative status on tail compensator. Status on compensator.”

“Tail compensator—what…?”

“Status of tail compensator.” Gerswin's fingers curled around the console keyboard's edge, digging in, but his voice remained level.

“Compensator has no reading. Crew visual indicates no compensator.”

“Stet. No compensator. Begin, blade deployment sequence. I say again. Begin blade deployment sequence.”

“Stet. Beginning blade deployment sequence.”

“Outrider three. When the blades lock, hit the power disconnect. As soon as the blades lock, hit the power disconnect, and dump the thrusters. Do you understand?”

“Blades locked, hit the disconnect…dump thrusters.”

“That's affirmative. No power descent. Pick out the levelest spot you can dead ahead. Keep your nose down. Radalt hits one fifty, you flare. Flare at one fifty. At one hundred, pull full-blade angle. One hundred, full-blade angle.”

“Stet. Power flare at one fifty, full-blade angle at one hundred.”

“That's affirmative.”

Matsuko's hand blanked the comm link.

“What are you doing?”

Gerswin did not take his eyes off the console.

“No power for a turn, not without hitting the sheer line. Not enough power or time to cross the rock ridge ahead. No compensator for a powered blade descent. Flat rock auto is the best I can do.”

He brushed Matsuko's hands from the console.

“Interrogative altitude, airspeed.”

“Passing four hundred at one hundred.” The woman's voice was low, but clear and steady.

“Nose up. Nose up, three. Airspeed at sixty to seventy as you pass two hundred.”

“Stet. Nose up. Passing two fifty, airspeed, eighty.”

“Nose down a shade.”

“Stet. Nose down. Speed seventy.”

“Flare at one fifty. Flare at one fifty.”

“Flaring—”

The transmission ended as if cut by a knife.

Gerswin stood so abruptly the swivel slammed and clattered into the console behind.

“Was that a transmission loss?” asked a new voice.

Gerswin shook his head, slowly, forcing himself to unclench his tightened fists. He looked at the two console screens, then at the floor.

Matsuko looked at Gerswin's face, then snapped. “Is two ready to lift?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Launch and vector to three's last position. Medic on board?”

“That's affirmative, ser.”

“Launch.”

“Two. Outrider two, this is Opswatch. Cleared to lift. Vector to target is three four five. Three four five.”

“Opswatch, Outrider two, lifting. Will be turning three four five.”

Gerswin looked at the met screen, then at Matsuko.

“Captain, that vector's wrong. They'll cross the sheer line.”

The tech on the end console began computing.

“He's right.”

“Outrider two. Course correction. Course correction. Sheer line at three five zero. Turn two seven zero. Two seven zero.”

“Thanks, Opswatch. Turning two seven zero. How long this course?”

“Outrider two. Estimate five minutes, then a vector of zero zero five.”

“Stet. Turning two seven zero. Climbing to one thousand. Climbing to one thousand.”

“Understand climbing to one thousand.”

Gerswin took his eyes away from the screens and stepped farther back, still shaking his head slowly, as if unable to believe that the flitter had crashed into the rocky flats northwest of the Imperial base.

“…killer planet…Istvenn take it….”

“…the lieutenant couldn't…no one could have…”

Gerswin's steps took him to the backless couch outside Matsuko's office, and he sat down, staring at nothing, trying not to think about how Miri Frantz must have felt as the flitter mashed into the rocky up-thrusts with both forward speed and a descent rate approaching a thousand meters a minute.

But what else could he have suggested? Leaving her on thrusters would have plowed her into solid rock at nearly two hundred kays. If only he'd tried to get a better reading on the actual terrain slope…. But there had been so little time.

If he'd been there…. But he wouldn't have flown through a sheer line unprepared.

“…have the target in sight…”

Gerswin's ears caught the transmission from Outrider two, and he jerked himself erect, walking back to the control area, standing quietly behind the swivel where Captain Matsuko sat.

“Understand you have the target in sight?”

“That's affirmative. Deploying blades now.”

“Stet. Understand blade deployment.”

The console was silent, with only a single amber blip, motionless, as the flitter began its descent.

“Interrogative target status.”

“Opswatch. Target has sustained maximum structural damage. Maximum structural damage.”

Matsuko winced. Gerswin and the other pilots understood the implications of the shorthand expression.

Maximum structural damage to the flitter meant maximum structural damage to the crew.

A hush dropped over the operations area, as the surrounding techs and officers waited.

“Opswatch. Hovering over target. Lowering medic. Preliminary indication is that target crew totally immobile. Totally immobile. Will report later.”

“Stet, two. Standing by for later report.”

Gerswin took a last glance at the screens and moved away until he was in the silent and open corridor between the comm consoles and the now-vacant administrative section of Operations.

He knew the results, but hoped against hope that someone, somehow, had survived the crash, even though flitters did not carry the same crash capsules as shuttles.

The muted sound of murmurs in the control section died away enough that Gerswin could hear the last of Outrider two's transmission.

“…say again, no survivors…”

The I.S.S. lieutenant took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and started toward the exit portal. He needed to be alone.

Ignoring the sound of steps behind him, he reached the portal before Matsuko touched his arm.

Gerswin stopped.

Matsuko gestured, as if to pull him aside, and the lieutenant followed.

“Greg. You did the best you could, the best anyone could have.”

Gerswin swallowed.

“I made a mistake. Wouldn't have if I'd been in the cockpit, but so hard to do through comm link.”

“Mistake?”

“Radalt has vertical and horizontal lag. Makes a difference in rugged terrain. She wasn't experienced enough to look beyond the heads-up to gauge terrain. Can't do that over remote.”

He shook his head again.

Matsuko shook his head slowly in reply. “I liked Zeigler, and…Miri…you know…but, you…Can't you not…”

Gerswin looked at the polished tiles of the floor, knowing Matsuko had broken off his response and was studying his face.

“Look, Greg. Nobody else could have given her half a chance.”

“Half wasn't enough.”

“No. But unless you can find another dozen like you, it's better than she would have gotten otherwise. Zeigler bent orbit, not you. You even had enough sense to keep the recovery bird from doing the same thing. Don't forget that.”

Gerswin said nothing.

Matsuko patted him on the shoulder.

“You try too hard to be perfect. Do the best you can, but don't expect perfection on everything, all the time, even when lives are at stake. That's a bigger trap. Think about it.”

Matsuko stepped back to let Gerswin leave.

Gerswin could feel the deputy ops boss's eyes on his back long after the portal had closed between them, long after he had retreated to his quarters.

“Tell me, Greg. Does the flitter do what you want? Or do you make it do what you want?”

Mahmood scarcely looked up from his console as he asked the question.

“What does that mean? Another theoretical question?” snapped Gerswin, still wearing his flight gear.

“Not so theoretical as you think. Presumably, you have a goal in mind. You seem to assume that the goal is independent of the means.”

“No. Even a dumb devilkid knows that the means will influence the end.” The pilot took four steps away from the console, turned, and paced back toward the biologist.

“Then why don't you apply that knowledge to your flight techniques? Without looking at the maintenance records, I'd be willing to bet that while you have the best record of accomplishment, you also have the record of most damage to equipment.”

“Mahmood, have you ever tried to fly gently through the fringes of a landspout? Or to gather data through stone rains and acid winds?”

“Have you?”

“I've flown through everything.”

“Gently?”

“You don't understand.”

“Greg. I'm not fighting you. You are fighting yourself.”

“Fighting myself?” Gerswin paced toward the blank inner wall, and turned before reaching it, pacing back toward the man and the console.

“There are at least two ways to do anything. Usually, the best way requires both the most understanding and the most direct application of that understanding. Very few people are capable of that. Mostly frustrated athletes.”

Gerswin frowned. Again, the philosophical biologist refused to get to the point. He didn't know why he ended up coming back to listen all the time. Except…he brushed the thought aside.

“Frustrated athletes? Would you stop to explain that?”

“No. Not unless you will consider stopping to listen, and begin by stopping that continuous pacing. Sit down.”

Gerswin sighed. Loudly, and partly for effect. He let himself thud into the low couch, turn, and let one leg dangle over the arm as he faced the other.

The biologist straightened behind the console, and, for the first time, concentrated directly on the pilot.

“Greg, think about it this way. Our military culture tends to separate people into those who can build or repair things and those who use them. You are a pilot and an officer, trained to understand enough about technology and people to use both. Your techs understand how to repair things, but not really enough about their missions for you to be able to use their products to the fullest degree possible.”

Mahmood waited.

Finally, Gerswin answered.

“So you think I'm just a user? That it's bad to be just a user?”

“I never said that. Nor did I say that you were. I merely made an observation on the training imparted by our system. Would you say that what you do with a flitter requires as much as you can get from the machine?”

“Sometimes more.”

“Have you really ever studied the flitter? From each single composite plate up? From a series of stress vectors? Have you ever tried to rebuild one with the technicians?”

“Of course not. I'm not a tech.”

Again, Mahmood waited.

“Where are you going? What are you asking? You telling me that I ought to be a tech?”

“Not exactly. Let me ask the question more directly. How can you get the most out of your flitter if you have no feel beyond the superficial?” Mahmood waved aside the objection the pilot was beginning to voice. “Yes, I know. You have your spec charts, and your performance envelopes, or whatever all the facts are that you learn. You are taught all the maneuvers that a flitter will take, and the associated stresses. But who designed those maneuvers? Who set those limits? And how? By trial and error? Or did someone really dig into what a flitter is and what a pilot can do and put the two together?”

“Test pilot.”

“Are you a test pilot?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be one? Or better than one?”

“Of course.”

“Then how do you propose doing it? By going out and doing the same thing day after day? Destroying flitter after flitter, and maybe yourself in the process, by going beyond the established numbers without understanding the machine?”

“You make it sound so simple. Just go out and be a tech. Learn the flitter. Be an instant expert!”

“No. I never said that. You said that. I never said it would be easy. I never said it wouldn't take time. I only said that it was the best way, and the hardest.”

Gerswin bounced to his feet.

“I don't know why I listen to you.”

Mahmood did not respond, just let his dark eyes meet the hawk-yellow glare of the young pilot's.

Finally, the hawk-eyed one looked away.

“Thanks, Mahmood. I think.”

And he was gone, quick steps echoing in the long corridor outside.