Deep Ice (15 page)

He turned around again and found Hayes right there, looking into his eyes. The general wore a gentle smile. It sat as lightly on his face as a feather does on a table, and seemed to the admiral just as likely to blow away.

“You can be certain, Milborne, that no one but me will be called on the carpet for this one,” said Hayes.

“The President wants action. From where I see it, that means Grimes.”

#

In fact, no one in Valparaiso saw the two choppers as they veered north, then inland towards the mountains. Merle Fawsett, six and a half feet of sinew, leaned towards the pilot of Gadfly 1 as they slid silently above the trees. He was trying to get a better view through the thermal windows, which revealed a landscape illuminated in the infrared.

“Don’t crowd me, Merle,” said Tom Jabiel, the pilot.

Like the other three men in the chopper he was clad in black-on-black plastic and kevlar. They looked more like insects than people.

Wake Michaels, the operator of the electronic cameras and sensors, punched Fawsett in the arm with a raised knuckle.

“Ow, Snake, what kinda shit is that?” protested Fawsett.

“Oh, did it hurrrt?” said Michaels mockingly. “I kinda hoped it would.”

Grimes turned his head slightly to glance at them out of the corner of his eye. He lifted his left hand slightly, pointing a finger at the window. “Mission,” he said.

Both men sat back, instantly silent. “Roger that,” said Fawsett.

Ghostly trees swooped beneath them as they moved towards the foothills.

“What
is
our mission, sir?” asked Jabiel. “Or is it a secret?” He laughed.

“I got your secret, right here,” replied Grimes. His lips twitched in a smile. “Take the high ground, Tom. You have the coordinates.” He turned to Fawsett. “Just a look-see and a test. You know the drill.”

“How far?” asked the pilot, pointing to the terrain display on the dash.

“Up, up and away, Tommy boy,” said Grimes.

Summer was coming to the southern hemisphere. In the strange infrared world that rolled under them, they could see new vegetation budding on the trees. The landscape appeared frosted with a strange kind of ice.

The two helicopters kept radio silence. Gadfly 2 simply tagged along behind Grimes’s craft. Within minutes of leaving the coast they were over a broad plateau, then following a terrain that quickly assumed a further uphill turn. Before long the pilot found it necessary to open the foils of the rotor blades to gain lift as they rose into thinner air. But then the hills fell away beneath them, and they could see a vast sea of lights to the right – the lights of Santiago, the nation’s capital.

Under Grimes’s direction they steered ever higher, towards the Andes.

“Fuel?” he asked.

“Nominal, sir,” said the pilot.

“Tell you what, guys,” said Grimes. “I want to see how high we can take this thing.”

Tom Jabiel looked at him and raised his visor. “That’ll take most of our fuel and. . .”

“And what?”

“We still have to make it back to the ship, sir,” said Jabiel cautiously.

“Didn’t we talk about this? Didn’t somebody call that conversation we had back at the ship a. . . a
plan
? Am I mistaken about that?”

“We’re spending too much fuel,” said Jabiel.

“Turn back when you have to, Tom,” said Grimes in disgust.

“Roger that, sir.” Then Jabiel looked at his commander’s disappointed face and felt a pang of guilt.

“It’s the air, I think. It’s thinner than we planned for. I make it, oh, thirty more clicks and we’re going to have to. . .”

“Punk out?” said Michaels.

“Hey it’s all downhill going on the way back home.

Doesn’t that count?” contributed Fawsett.

They were still far from the Andean heights when the two helicopters had to turn back towards the
Enterprise
. On the return trip they targeted and fired virtual missiles at ranches and farm houses on the outskirts of Santiago and Valparaiso.

#

Tending his modest flock and warned by a ram’s incessant bleating, a lonely Indian shepherd boy watched the two black objects pass quietly overhead. He not so much saw them as heard them; all that was visible was a sudden blotting out of the stars in the clear night sky. The objects hovered above him, briefly blasting him with cold air. They circled and, unknown to him, trained their miniguns on him, for targeting purposes only, then moved off to the west.

The boy was briefly frightened, but, just as suddenly as the things had come, they were gone. All they left behind was a surge of adrenaline and a strange story his father would never believe.

#

Only ten days had passed since Henry had been gunned down on the ice shelf. Now he was almost getting used to his new quarters, except that he awoke every day in a sweat. Nearly every morning began with him staring sleepily at Shep and considering that the dog’s wet panting tongue probably felt much the same as his own.

The whole ship was much too warm. He would find himself missing Antarctica: the ice, his work. Then he’d remember why everything had changed, and why he’d become confused and uncertain. And then at last he’d remember Sarah and somehow, in the swirl of fear that gripped him, he’d know there was still hope. It had become strangely routine, this manner of waking. He wished he could wake alongside Sarah each morning, but they were attempting to keep their relationship discreet.

After dressing he’d visit the rec room for coffee and rolls. Since Sarah was rarely in his company openly before the crew, breakfast was always a rather lonesome occasion. When things got to be more than he could stand, there was always Aft Deck C. It was there at least twice a day. Shep demanded it.

Henry had always respected his dogs. To him their natural state was to be up to their ears in snow and on the move. In that context they fairly brimmed with purpose. It was their element. Away from the cold and snow, a malamute can change; if the temperature climbs too high, it can die. Henry had to watch Shep for signs of heat sickness and make sure the dog always had plenty of water. More water meant more time on Deck C. By now he was convinced that bringing Shep had been a big mistake. It was a bad call for the dog. If Henry was useless, Shep was even more so. Holed up on an aircraft carrier was no life for a sled dog.

He tried to fill his time by starting a journal. After all, he’d been a witness to the beginnings of what had already become an historical event. But he was able to get no further than jotting the facts down on paper. Like a police report. He had never been a skilled writer. In fact, he wasn’t that comfortable with words at all, he came to think. So it wasn’t long before he gave up on the journal entirely.

Sitting on his deckchair on Aft Deck C, staring at the dawn sunlight from behind the Andes that lit the sky with pale orange streamers, he was pleased to reflect that the establishment of his loving relationship with Sarah had been wordless. It had happened upon them both without any falsity or rhetoric. Words had been superfluous from the beginning.

Watching the sun rising over Valparaiso, he considered that God might well be holding out a candle of hope – hope that there was indeed a future for him.

And perhaps God was love, after all.

Suddenly he noticed a black speck, then two, silhouetted against the sun. At first they appeared to be birds, but then he realized they were aircraft, helicopters, coming out of the dawn. Soon he could make out that these choppers were nothing like any he’d seen before. He watched them approach, wondering if they were friend or foe; nothing he could do if they were foe. But judging by the response of the deck crew, they were obviously expected.

When the choppers got close enough, he reckoned they must represent a new breed of helicopter. Their contours, sharply angled and dead black, reminded him of F-117 Stealth fighters. And, like all the other aircraft aboard the
Enterprise
, they bristled with weaponry. One at a time, they set down lightly on the deck, to be promptly hustled by the personnel there onto massive elevator sections; within moments they were being lowered into the bowels of the ship. Their crews stayed hidden behind the dark glass canopies.

Henry and Shep watched the whole process with great interest. It was only after the choppers had disappeared inside the ship that Henry realized how quiet the landing had been. No pop-pop-pop of engines, no loud rush of rotors.

Henry guessed Kai Grimes had been inside one of them. Certainly they fit the bill to be Grimes’s weapon of choice.

Some time later he was sitting in his room waiting for the noon mess call. He had read for a while, but had found himself unable to get involved in the book. Noon had come and gone, but there had been no call. Finally he decided to visit Sarah and see what was going on with her.

He discovered she had been doing the same thing – just sitting and waiting.

“How bored are you?”

“A little less at the moment, thanks,” she said with a slight smile.

“You know, Sarah,” he began, “I was thinking about our conversation – our agreement, I guess – that we’d keep a low profile while aboard this ship.”

“Oh?” she said. “And what have you decided?”

“I don’t really give a. . . darn what these people think, for one thing. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We’d piss off the admiral?”

“Snickers behind our backs all the time,” she said.

“I’d hate that.”

“But what’s the harm in two civilians hanging out together in the midst of all this?” he argued. “Wouldn’t most people expect us to act that way? It’s logical, I think.”

“Point,” she agreed. “I’ve not looked at it like that.”

“Good,” he said with a big smile. “Let’s go explore.”

She grabbed a sweatshirt and put it on. Henry watched as the garment slid down over her body and smiled appreciatively. The sweatshirt bore the emblem of the
Enterprise
.

Sarah noticed him looking at it. “A gift from the admiral.”

He couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy, though he forced it out of his mind. “Nice.” He followed her out the door.

By now most of the crew knew who Henry and Sarah were. Nods and salutes greeted them at every turn as they walked through the ship. Inside the aft hangar deck the smell of aviation fuel was nearly overwhelming. They covered their noses. Henry noticed that the two helicopters he’d seen landing were being serviced. Parts of each craft were covered with tarpaulins.

As they approached the aircraft an armed officer held out his hand. “I’m sorry, sir, ma’am. You’ll have to leave this area.”

Thinking quickly, Henry asked if Commander Grimes was around.

“He’d be in the mess hall, sir,” said the guard. “You can get there through that door.” He pointed to a door behind them.

“Those things look like Stealth choppers,” said Henry. “Am I right?”

The guard reacted cautiously. “I have to ask you to leave, sir,” he said. “That’s classified information. This is a classified area, sir.”

“Cool,” said Henry. “So those
are
Grimes’s ships, aren’t they?”

“Sir. . .”

“I know, I know,” said Henry. “I should leave.”

Sarah pulled at his arm. “Don’t feed the animals, Henry. Didn’t you see the signs?”

The officer gave her an angry look, then his demeanour changed. “Do you have authorization to be here, sir?” he asked, looking Henry up and down.

Henry glanced at the guard’s name badge. “Admiral Schumacher didn’t say, Wayne. I’m not aware of any restrictions. I just wanted to check out the choppers.”

“Only authorized personnel, sir. I have my orders. Are you the two civilians with General Hayes?”

“Are there any other civvies on board?” asked Sarah.

“I wouldn’t have that information, ma’am.”

Sensing the man was about to lose patience with them, Henry decided it wasn’t a good idea to press the issue any longer. He thanked the guard, apologized for the trouble, and moved towards the exit with Sarah.

“Maybe Kai will give us a tour,” he said as they left the hangar.

Walking the hallway towards the mess hall, Henry and Sarah encountered a group of officers headed in the same direction. One of them had the captain’s insignia on his uniform. He noticed Henry and Sarah immediately and called to them.

“What do you think of the
Big E
?” he asked.

Henry registered confusion. “ ‘
Big E
’? I’m sorry. . .”

The man laughed. “That’s her nickname.
E
for
Enterprise
. Hel o, Mr Gibbs, Ms French. I’m Captain of this tub. We haven’t met, but I guess you know the admiral pretty well by now.”

Henry looked embarrassed. He’d noticed the rank but somehow had trouble picturing this man as Captain of the
Enterprise
. His portly stature and his casual demeanour with his men seemed unfitting to the post.

“Good to meet you, sir,” he said. “Meeting you answers a big question of mine.”

“And what would that be?”

“I thought all naval ships had a captain, but nobody mentioned you. I mean. . .” Henry looked embarrassed.

“Not a problem,” laughed the captain. “The admiral has been calling the shots lately while I run the ship. I’ve been here all along, but in the chaos of the moment I guess nobody bothered with formal introductions.”

“Oh, I see.”

Henry’s opinion of the man immediately changed. He could feel how the captain, for all his easy manner, was fully in control.

“I’m Captain Brad Halsey. No relation to the old British admiral that I know of. I took the commission when Mike Malone retired.”

Henry nodded, even though he’d never heard of Mike Malone.

“Headed to the mess hall ? Care to join us?”

“Delighted,” said Sarah with a warm smile.

“Sure,” agreed Henry, pleased to meet the man who ran the largest carrier in the fleet. He wondered if he might get authorization to peek at the choppers he’d been shooed away from by the guard.

“I’m glad we had a chance to meet,” said Halsey.

“You know, Mr Gibbs, you’re quite the celebrity.”

“Through no fault of my own, I’m afraid,” said Henry with a grin. “Good to meet you too.”