Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (38 page)

“How come you get a space suit?” Tyler said. “
I
don't have a space suit.”

“So we'd better not get shot down,” Steve said.

The former astronaut had arrived in the middle of the night and immediately headed over to
the hangar. His take on the
Fury
was about the same as Gnad's. Which didn't mean he wasn't willing to try to fly it. Just
that he thought it looked like Frankenstein.

“Shot down?” Tyler said, wincing. “We better not leak!” All he had was a temperature
controlling flight suit. The SR-71 cockpit might be sealed but it didn't have really good
temperature regulation.

“This is a completely different control interface,” Steve said, looking at the system but
mostly 'looking' with his plants. “Most of these dials aren't hooked up to anything.”

“All the sensors and stuff are hooked up to something,” Tyler said. “They're just not
hooked to a joystick and stuff.”

“You're saying 'stuff' a lot,” Steve said.

“Steve, you've seen the estimates,” Tyler said. “So let's quit bitching and see if we can
get this thing in the air, okay? Just close your damned eyes and use the software.”

With his eyes closed, the plants and the Glatun software started to build a picture of the
surroundings. It wasn't sight by any stretch of the imagination. It was more like feeling
the surrounding area. And the bird. What the bird felt like was...

“Is this feeling as shot to you as it is to me?” Steve commed.

“This software is off the shelf Glatun grav control software,” Tyler said. “It's probably
trying to find a well designed gravity system. The bird feels broken to
it
so it feels broken to
us
.”

“This is never going to work,” Steve said.

“Better hope it works,” Tyler said. “As I said, quit bitching. Is it working better or
worse than the Boeing stuff?”

“Different,” Steve said. “I'm not sure if it's better or...”

The plane lurched to the side and nearly tumbled off its landing gear.

“Careful!” Tyler snapped. “Can we
try
to do this together?”

“Well, quit pulling!”

“What we have here is a failure to communicate,” Tyler said, pulling out of the system. “I
hereby rechristen this flying ship
The Tub
.”

“What we have here is a system that's not
designed
to work,” Steve said. “It's sometimes possible, in an emergency, for two pilots who are
both experienced and who have worked together well, to both control a bird. This is
completely different. This is impossible!”

“We have to make it possible,” Tyler said. “Think of Apollo Thirteen.”

“Apollo Thirteen was a disaster,” Steve pointed out.

“That made it back to earth because people were willing to do anything to keep it from
becoming more of a disaster,” Tyler said. “I've got people doing their damnedest to get
another terrawatt or two out of SAPL. People who aren't saying it can't be done, they're
just doing everything they can. If it works, great. If it doesn't, we're all going to die,
anyway.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Okay. We can do this. But I lead.”

“Yes, sir,” Tyler said. “What are we doing?”

“Just pulling straight up. Slowly.”

***

“This is working... better,” Steve said. “I'm not sure that it wouldn't have worked better
with the original control system and two people but...”

While it was working, it was wearing. And they'd started trying to get the plane to fly
before dawn. Since it was approaching noon, local time, Tyler wasn't so much exhausted as
past exhaustion.

“We didn't have a year,” Tyler said. “I sort of wish we were side-by side. It feels...
wrong back here.”

They were, essentially, each taking a set of gravity drivers to manage. Done that way,
with the Boeing gravity sensors and I/O controls and some hacked software from the
Paw
, it was
marginally
controllable. If they just lifted up and down and moved it a few feet. They'd managed to
get it the requisite 'One hundred yards in a figure eight' that was the standard for all
sorts of silly little contests. That didn't mean they were ready to soar into the wild
black yonder.

“Still having personnel integration troubles,” Steve said.

“Are you saying
I can't dance
?” Tyler said. “Because if you are, you're right.”

“No, I'm saying...” Steve paused and looked up as one of the ground controllers started
waving.

“I've got an incoming call,” Tyler said. “Since I told my plant to restrict...”

“Same here,” Steve said. “General?”

“A Horvath ships has just cleared the gate,”
the CJCS said.

“Oh... crap,” Tyler said. “They just fired.”

“What?” Steve said, closing his eyes.

The view Tyler was accessing was from the VLA which had devoted a portion of its system to
observing the solar system's latest visitor. As they watched, the Horvath cruiser started
dumping small objects into space. Objects which quickly accelerated and disappeared.

“That's a planetary bombardment,” Tyler said, softly. “Those are going to go fractional C.
And they're going to arrive...”

“Get off the ground,” the CJCS said. “Now!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “Goodbye.”

“We still need to load rounds,” Tyler said, sending an order to start loading. The rounds
had been kept nearby just in case of a worst case scenario. Worst case seemed to have hit.
“And that assumes they're going to work.”

“Can SAPL intercept those missiles?”

“Maybe if we'd engaged them just as they were being dumped,” Tyler said. “We don't have
the targeting to stop them inbound.”

***

“We've lost them,” Nathan said. “They're maneuvering, they're small and they're black. We
lost them nearly as fast as they were being discharged. We got a count. Fourteen.”

“If those are all directed at the US, that's going to pretty well gut us,” very recently
reactivated Colonel Driver said. “The SAPL groundside offices are bound to be a target.
You need to evac.”

“We're shutting down now,” Nathan said. “But getting out of Huntsville... Tell Ty it was
fun if I don't see him again. Bye.”

“Colonel,” one of the techs said. “A fractional C KEW will crack us like a walnut.”

“Then we transfer to NMDC,” Driver said. “And they transfer to SpaceCom. And if all of us
get hit, it goes to the
Monkey Business
.”

“And if they're willing to take out the
Monkey Business
?”

“There won't be anyone left alive to care.”

***

“The President is on NEACAP,” the Secretary of Defense said. “The Vice President is
airborne in a helo but headed out of Los Angeles. The chain of succession is assured, at
least.”

“Do you think so, sir?” the CJCS said. “The Horvath can probably track both from space. If
they get into the orbitals, they'll take them both out.”

“It's times like this I wish we still had Cheyenne,” the Secretary said. The base had been
shut down only two years before the gate arrived. Since then there had been several
suggestions to reactivate it but the money was never there.

“Too late now,” the CJCS said. “But at least we've got this
great
bunker.”

The Pentagon had been designed, in part, for the express purpose of surviving a nuclear
attack. Of course, that was an attack on Washington using a late '40s 10 KT atom bomb. Not
a direct attack with six tons of metal screaming down at a fraction of the speed of light.
The KEWs headed for earth were going to leave craters deeper than Chesapeake Bay.

“It's better than what most people have,” the Secretary said. “The roads are jammed.”

“And I'm selfishly thinking 'This had to happen on
my
watch,'” the Chairman said. “Time to impact?”

“Depends, sir,” the colonel from SpaceCom said. “Soonest, thirty-five minutes. Longest is
up to them. But if I was them, knowing we basically have nothing to defend ourselves, I'd
have staggered them so that they arrive as direct delivery and at high speed. Which means
we're probably not going to get hit until sometime after sunset. When you can see Mars
high in the sky, that would be the best time. Say three hours.”

“Game of cards, anyone?” the Secretary said.

***

“You're trying to lead again,” Steve said.

“I'm just trying to fly!” Tyler replied.

They were loaded. They were in the air. They were at about a thousand feet, which was a
remarkable achievement. But they couldn't steer worth a damn.

There, fortunately, wasn't any traffic. Every aircraft had been diverted from major
airports and those what had the fuel had been ordered to circle until they
had
to land. That done, most of the air traffic controllers were getting the heck out of
dodge. Otherwise, they'd be screaming at the out-of-control space fighter.

“Calm down and just go with it,” Steve said.

“I started thinking about my happy place and remembered I had to pee,” Tyler said. “Really
bad.”

“I'm serious,” Steve said.

“Destruction of the planet earth doesn't get much more serious,” Tyler said. “I've still
got to pee. There...”

“Better,” Steve said as the fighter struggled upwards again. “We just have to work
together.”

“Like dancing,” Tyler said. “Gay dancing, but dancing... Dancing. Steve, do you listen to
music?”

“Oh, you're not going Iron Eagle on me, are you?” Steve said as the bird wobbled off axis
again. “Concentrate! That never works. This isn't a movie.”

“This is two people trying to work in synchronicity,” Tyler said. “What do you listen to?”

“Heavy metal.”

“Gah. I'm a country fan,” Ty said.

“Ain't gonna happen,” Steve said. “I am
not
going to die listening to country.”

“What kind of metal?”

“Hang on,” Steve said.

The plants were perfectly capable of playing music. And linking.

“What the
hell
is that?” Ty asked as the plane bobbled again and lost altitude.

“Godsmack,” Steve said. “And you're right. Even with you not particularly liking it we're
still more in sync.” After the bobble they were definitely gaining.

“It's not bad,” Tyler said. “Just sort of a surprise. What else do you have?”

“A lot,” Steve said. “I've even got a playlist. Which is... set. And now we can
concentrate on killing Horvath.”

“They're not closing faster than normal,” Tyler said. With the two of them more in sync
the plane was now well out of the atmosphere. Of course, they still had to pick their way
through the trash belt around the planet. “They're advancing in an almost... ominous
manner.”

“I... don't think they see us,” Steve said.

“With the plague and then the bombardment, the news channels are jammed with other stuff,”
Tyler said, doing a quick scan. “Ditto blogs, astronomy channels... There is not one
single reference to us except news reports talking about how the SAPL isn't powerful
enough to take out the Horvath ship and the
Star Fury
isn't capable of even flying.”

“Radar? Satellite?”

“Local FAA radar was shut down by the time we took off,” Tyler said, still scanning. “The
sat net has been pretty much secured over the last couple of years. Steve... we're not
getting noticed by
anybody
.”

“What about the Horvath systems?” Steve said.

“They have a gravitics sensor system,” Tyler said. “We're still in the grav well... Let's
accel as best we can, go silent and slingshot around the moon.”

“Accel on the way out?” Steve said, setting it up.

“We'll be in a position to ambush them on the flank as they come in,” Tyler said,
considering the plot. “We can't stop the missiles, they have to be pretty much shot out.
All we have to do is keep them from getting into orbit.”

“All,” Steve said, setting in the course. “This is getting easier.”

“I think Athelkau put some Turing code in the software,” Tyler said. “It's learning as
we're learning.”

“Right,” Steve said. “Time to dump some power into this bird.”

“Whipping the hamsters,” Tyler closing his eyes and concentrating on simultaneously
dumping power to the grav plates and not letting them fly apart. He grunted in surprise at
the response. “Oh, yeah, no inertial damping!”

“Just crunch,” Steve grunted back. “And don't black out on me!”

“I'm good,” Tyler said. Getting the limping 'space fighter' to accelerate using the plants
felt almost like pushing with his brain. “I think that's about as much as we're going to
get.”

“That's better than I thought,” Steve said. “About seven gravities of delta-v. We need to
hold this for about twenty minutes, though. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Tyler said. “No problem. Anything you can do, I can do better.”

“You have to
breathe
...” Steve said, laughing.

“Fighter pilot bastard. Did I
mention
I have to pee?”

***

“Recalculating trajectory and... shutting down,” Steve said. “Heh. Speaking of Apollo
Thirteen, we're about to do a flyby of the back side of the moon.”

“Fortunately, we can do it quicker,” Tyler said, breathing deeply. He had not enjoyed
seven gravities. He'd taken more on rides and the vector hadn't really done more than
press straight down on his body, but it was different when you were trying to plot a
course in space. Not to mention he had had to keep his stomach muscles clenched to prevent
a hernia. For twenty minutes. They hadn't even gotten into combat yet and he was already
exhausted.

Steve, the bastard, seemed to take it as just another day at the park.

“Yeah, we're going to be going
low
,” Steve said. “And at our velocity, we won't get much of a slingshot. And we're not going
to have much time to do an attack run.”

“So we'd better make the shots count,” Tyler said. They were still getting data on the
Horvath ship through the hypernet so he carefully examined the approaching cruiser. “You
know what? I think they're doing that slow approach because that's the only one they can
do.”

“Explain?” Steve said.

“They've only
got
about six gravities of acceleration,” Tyler said. “They've used, basically, the same
approach every time. I think that might be their flank speed. Think about it. They got a
lot of advancement by the Glatun at first but making really good grav systems, as we have
found out, is
tough
. And they were horse and buggy days when they started.”