Shattered Legacy (33 page)

“You’re still in New Mexico?”

He frowned. “How do you know where I am?”

“I just saw you on television, Samson. What’s going on?”

“I can’t even begin to tell you.” He glanced at the bodyguards flanking him. “We’re on our way back to New York to get things sorted out.”

The lights went dark as Samson Tyler and his bodyguards reached the north civilian hangar of the Vehicle Assembly Building.

“Oh, great,” Tyler said.

“What is it?” Teresa asked.

“The power went out.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.”

At the final T-junction, Lynn Anholt swiped her keycard into the reader to open the access doors to the hangar.

Nothing happened. She swiped her card again and looked around. She glanced up at the darkened ceiling lights.

“Something’s wrong,” she muttered. She stepped aside for Perry Newbold to try his keycard. His didn’t work, either.

Footsteps sounded from the far end of the hallway as a figure turned the corner. She was dressed in a blue technician’s uniform. Her hair was tied back, and she was wearing sunglasses.

The trio turned. Until now, they had not encountered anyone on their way to the hangar.

The technician froze as she stared in astonishment. Then her face broke into a grin.

“There is a God,” she said.

The voice gave away her identity. Tyler’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Sensing danger, both Lynn and Perry reached for their weapons.

Merrick reached into her pocket and pulled out her gun, taking aim at Tyler with a two-handed grip.

“Down!” Lynn shouted as she lunged sideways to shove him out of the way.

As the others moved, Merrick shifted her aim and fired. Her shot hit Perry square in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. He fell hard against the wall and crumpled to the ground.

Lynn fired back as she blocked Tyler. The gunshots blasted through the corridor. Merrick ducked into a defensive posture, took a moment to adjust her aim, and fired again.

The shot hit Lynn in the gut. Her pistol clattered as she doubled over and dropped to the floor.

That left Tyler standing alone as Merrick approached.

He looked down at his fallen bodyguards. Perry lay motionless against the wall. Lynn was on her belly, gasping for breath, arms and fingers extended as she clawed at the tiled floor for her fallen weapon.

Merrick took another step closer, bared her teeth, and raised her pistol to Tyler’s head.

There was nowhere to run. Tyler didn’t know what to do. His final thought was that he just should have surrendered to the authorities when he had the chance.

Then the ceiling lights sputtered to life.

Merrick glanced up.

Instinctively, Tyler threw his cell phone at her. As she ducked and stumbled back, he ran past her and took off down the corridor.

Merrick recovered her balance, turned, and fired.

Tyler scrambled away as the bullet ricocheted into the steel supports ahead.

“Stop!” Lynn closed her fingers around the handle of her pistol. She groaned as she rolled over to take aim.

But Tyler and Merrick were gone, leaving behind only the echoes of pounding footsteps.

Lynn’s pistol wavered and then clattered back to the floor. Groaning, she rolled to one side. She felt a large ragged hole in her shirt where the bullet had blown away the Kevlar fiber in her bulletproof vest. Fortunately, the trauma plate beneath had held, though it hurt like hell. Under the armor she knew she would find a bruise the size of her fist.

She rolled her head to one side. “Perry!”

He was still slumped against the wall, his head tilted to one side, his mouth slack and open.

“Perry,” she said again. Ignoring her own pain, she pulled herself across the floor with her hands. She reached out and pressed her fingers to Perry’s neck. She felt nothing. She sat up and took his head in her hands.

“Perry!”

Nothing. His head rolled to one side as she felt his neck again.

There was no pulse.

“Shit,” she said, rolling away and slapping the floor with her hand. “Damn it. Damn it!”

She reached for the radio clipped to her belt. “Priority code one-one-six-seven. This is Lynn Anholt. I have one security member down at the north entrance to the private hangar,” she reported on the security band. “We were attacked by an armed female subject in Section 2-L. Subject is about five-foot-six, medium build. Dark hair, wearing blue overalls, sunglasses and a baseball cap. Subject is pursuing Samson Tyler. I don’t know where they’re headed.”

The radio crackled. “Copy that. We’re having major communications problems. Security cameras are down and most of our personnel are tied up with an explosion in the administration building.”

“Then just get medical to the north hangar entrance,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I'm in pursuit. Somebody better get this place locked down now!”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The VIP observation section was less impressive than one would expect. No higher than the rest of the paid visitor seating, it offered the same runway view as any other section. The only difference was that the VIP section provided a large awning to shade the visitors - and it was close to the concession stand. Otherwise, it was just as crowded and noisy as everywhere else.

Over ten thousand people were present to watch the
Naiad
landing. Five thousand were in the stands. The rest were in public viewing areas further out in the desert.

  One of the VIP spectators leaned forward, shaded her eyes with her hands, and looked up at the cloudless sky. She sat on a metal bench in the fifth row, twenty feet above ground level. The numbered seat beside her was empty. She gazed out over the runway and at the VAB beyond, but she could make out little over the shimmering desert horizon.

A man maneuvered his way down the aisle. He stopped before the woman, who was still staring out at the distance.

“Excuse me,” he said over the background noise.

She leaned back to make room. Then she noted the jumpsuit as he eased into the seat beside her.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “I know you. You’re the guy who was looking for repair records a few days ago. Tony, right?”

A bit embarrassed to be recognized, Tony Kanavos nodded. “I never did catch your name.”

“It’s Susan.” She nodded toward the runway. “They let me out of the basement today.”

He nodded and smiled at the view. “Yeah, this landing should be something else. How did you swing a VIP seat?”

“I requested it.”

“Yeah? Who’s your connection?”

She frowned. “Connection? Half the people here are employees.”

“What?”

“VIP tickets are free for employees. You just had to request them. Limited availability, but it’s still a nice perk.”

Kanavos frowned. “Wait. Hold on. You just had to make a
request
for a VIP pass?”

“Yeah. Through the company intranet. It’s easy.”

“Could they refuse to give you one?”

“I don’t know. Why would they?”

Kanavos’s mouth became a grim line as he thought about that. Then he shrugged. “Guess I got my ticket the hard way.”

She opened her mouth to reply when a general alarm sounded. An announcer’s voice emanated from the grandstand speakers. “Attention. Your attention please. We are clearing the observation platforms at this time. All spectators are to exit the stands in an orderly fashion.”

Groans of disappointment came from the crowd as the announcement was repeated.

“What’s going on?” Susan asked as they stood and began moving toward the aisles.

Kanavos answered without taking his gaze from the landing strip. “This isn’t good.”

Susan turned her head. Several long utility trucks were rushing toward the runway, kicking up clouds of dust. A few other vehicles were already on the runway, parked several hundred yards apart. She squinted and could make out something arcing out from the back of the vehicles.

“It's fire retardant,” Kanavos explained as he led her into the main aisle. He leaned forward and said into her ear, “They’re expecting a bad landing.”

“You mean a crash?” she exclaimed, looking back again.

Kanavos motioned for her to keep moving. “That explains why they're clearing us out of here.”

***

The astronauts kept a careful eye on their engine status. The guidance program that had been uploaded into the
Naiad's
computers before the communications blackout was allowing the orbiter’s secondary thrusters to compensate for the lack of port engine as it descended through the atmosphere.

So far, everything had worked well throughout the blackout period.

The orbiter finished its first roll reversal, which acted to control its descent through the atmosphere. Roughly thirty-four miles above the earth, the astronauts began to feel a low tug of gravity that pressed them into their seats. They watched their radio signal indicator turn green as communications came back online.

Schwartz tried his radio. “Control, this is
Naiad
. Do you copy? Over.” A few moments later he tried again. “Control, this is
Naiad
. Do you copy? Over.”

“Radio problems?” Commander McManus asked. He sensed trouble. The roaring of the air outside increased in intensity.

The pilot shook his head. “We're transmitting fine, but I’m not getting a signal from the ground.”

“Are you sure it’s not us?”

“It’s not us,” Schwartz assured him. “We're coming into the second roll reversal. Control's pre-programmed guidance ends in thirty seconds.”

“I don’t want to fire that main engine.”

“We may have to,” Schwartz replied as he flipped the switches to bring the engines back to manual control. “We've scooped up enough oxygen for ignition.”

McManus tried again to make contact. “Control, this is
Naiad
. Do you copy? Over.”

“Why aren't they responding?” Schwartz stared at the instruments. “We're getting further off course.”

Without contact from Control, they were on their own, and that meant they had to bring the orbiter down themselves, manually.

“All right,” McManus said heavily. “We’re switching to manual control. Fire the main engines.”

They felt, more than heard, a loud thump. The orbiter began shuddering.

Payload Specialist Todd Boynton, who had been quiet until now, called out from the back. “What the hell was that?”

Schwartz struggled with the sudden turbulence. “Cutting power to port,” he said, reaching up to the ceiling and flipping three switches in sequence.

McManus pulled up a status report from the computer. There was no detected damage to the orbiter’s superstructure, but the damaged port engine was showing all sorts of new problems. The ignition had blasted away another chunk of cowling, taking with it part of the turbo pump. Fortunately, the remaining fuel in the tanks had not ignited with the rupture. Otherwise, they would have instantly blown apart. Through the view ports, the white and blue horizon loomed larger than ever.

McManus glanced over at his pilot. “Can you hold her?”

Schwartz clenched his jaw. “We're coming in too steep. I have to level us out.”

“What's going on, Commander?” Boynton demanded, his voice a bit louder.

“Hang on back there,” McManus snapped. “It's gonna get rough.”

The
Naiad
began to develop lift as it knifed through the atmosphere. Schwartz eased forward the rotational hand controller. The glow around the craft brightened as the atmospheric friction increased.

There was another loud thump. The
Naiad
lurched again. The shuddering grew more intense.

“Come on,” Schwartz shouted, fighting for control once again. “Come on!”

McManus switched back to the radio and said loudly, “Control, this is
Naiad
. Do you copy, Control?”

There was a burst of static, followed by a partially garbled transmission. “We copy,
Naiad
. Over.”

“Where the hell have you
been
, Control?”

The voice of Noah Gettleman came through the channel. “We’re experiencing transmission difficulties,
Naiad
. We're routing communications through Houston.”

The astronauts exchanged quick glances.

“Control, are you reading our telemetry? We had to switch to manual control after the blackout. Respond.”

“We apologize,
Naiad
. We’re showing that the high-pressure fuel turbo pump and combustion chamber of your port engine are experiencing problems. Can you confirm? Over.”

“Affirmative. Port engine is dead. Over.” McManus switched off the radio and looked over at Schwartz. “What the hell are they doing down there?”

Schwartz was too busy keeping everything under control to answer. The vibrations were so bad now that the instrument panels were just a blur. The sound of outside air roared like a furnace.

The radio sounded again. “
Naiad
, we are unable to reestablish direct control over your systems. As you go into your third manual roll reversal, we will begin transmitting your descent trajectory for a manual landing.”

“Copy that, Control. We're beginning our final roll reversal.
Naiad
out.”

Schwartz eased his control stick forward. “Here we go.”

The orbiter tilted to starboard, causing the ship’s superstructure to groan. They were coming in fast, much too fast. McManus stared out at the orange glow through the cockpit windows. Anxiety clawed at his gut.

They were almost home.

They needed to stay together just a little longer.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Merrick stopped, lifted her pistol with a two-handed grip, took careful aim, and picked off another shot. The sound exploded through the corridor as Samson Tyler disappeared around the corner. Merrick shook her head ruefully as she sprinted after him.

Tyler continued running. He felt pain creep over his upper left arm. He clutched his bicep with his hand right and felt sticky, warm blood seep between his fingers.