Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (54 page)

Her breath hissed and roared in her ears, washing back through the microphone and giving her another anchor to which she could cling. Shuffling toward the giant rover, wanting nothing more than to get inside the protective confines of its narrow cabin, she caught a distracting flash of light from the dark windows of the MPL’s control section.

“What the hell?” she muttered, spinning to try to locate the source of the odd reflection. Far above her a small spark balanced on a tiny jet of flame. Watching, she could see it drift over the rim of the crater and descend toward the floor.

“Is that you, Randy?” she asked, recognizing the object as a landing craft. “I thought they’d poo-pooed the idea of landing in the dark."

Silence and static echoed in her headphones. Maybe he can’t hear me over the sound of the engines, she thought. “Winslow to lander. Do you copy?” she said, adjusting the power on her small transmitter. Still nothing.

Looking down at the readout on her arm-panel, she switched from local to relay mode, keying her mic again, “Winslow to lander, what’s up?” This time her suit transmitter bounced from the high-gain transceiver in the MPL, so she knew he should be able to hear her.

She stood watching the vehicle float toward her, listening to the silence.

“Susan, this is Tony,” the voice of the engineer said, sounding confused. “What are you talking about? Randy’s asleep and
Pogo’s
sitting on the pad."

“Then who’s this I’m watching out here?” she asked.

“We don’t have anything out. Randy’s heading down again in about six hours, but until then he’s zeroed out in his rack.” Concern filled Tony’s voice now that he knew she wasn’t just talking in her sleep.

“I’m watching something descend along the inner wall of the crater about a mile from here. I swear, it’s plain as day.” She flashed on the thought that he might be questioning her sanity since there wasn’t a plausible explanation.

“Maybe the Chinese are checking you out?” Tony offered.

“I don’t know why they would be.” The exhaust from the vehicle flashed nearly to the ground, and although she still couldn’t make out any details, she could see its form against the faint illumination it cast on the crater wall. “It’s bugging out. It’s definitely smaller than Pogo.”

“The Chinese have a couple skeeter sleds they use for hauling personnel to Amundsen,” Tony said. “They’d have the range to get to Plato and back. Might even be able to make a real low orbit.”

“That must be it,” she said, watching the craft arc upward over her position. “I wonder what they want?”

“Who knows,” he said. “They don’t usually fly this far north, especially after sundown.”

“Do you know if their pilots speak English?” she asked.

“Some do, I think,” he said. “We’ve had to clear traffic with them from time to time. Why?”

“Because I want to talk to him,” she said. “He scared the shit out of me, and I want to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Just don’t start a war,” Tony laughed, signing off so she could chat with the lander.

***

Camp Kryptonite:

Somebody needed to be playing Ride of the Valkyries when Marquez arrived. The wing of escort helicopters set the whole valley to rumbling. Shapiro stood with DeMarko and Schimmel at the side of the landing pad, covering his face with his sleeve. Oddly, he found himself trying not to laugh in spite of the fact that this was a serious moment.

“So our fearless leader arrives,” DeMarko teased, as the combined rotor-wash threatened to demolish several nearby tents.

“I guess so,” Shapiro said, watching the General climb out of the chopper and sprint toward them.

“You’re Shapiro?” he asked, offering his hand. “Let’s get inside and get on with business.”

The agent nodded politely and headed into the main tent. He wasn’t sure what to make of Marquez. He’d pulled up the General’s dossier on the DHS network and the reports were almost contradictory. He had a spotless record, something uncommon in the upper ranks of the military where there was almost always some disaster hiding in the closet.

The contradictions weren’t about his performance, which had been exemplary since he’d graduated from the Air Force Academy with degrees in Physics and Aeronautical Engineering, but rather with how he’d managed to achieve his successes. Some accounts had him as a by-the-book leader, with a spit and polish reputation that sent fear shivering its way through the souls of those that worked under him. Other reports said he’d been so successful because of his uncanny ability to work outside the box and come up with creative solutions.

Shapiro hoped it was the second face that Marquez had brought with him today. Protocol was not going to work against Stormhaven, and if the General was planning on running a regimented operation, he was going to find out right up front that he was out of his depth.

He led the General into the crowded conference room. Of those waiting, only the Major stood to salute. Marquez walked to the head of the table and stared at the group. “I understand that Stormhaven’s been a tough nut to crack,” he said. “I’ve read the reports and honestly I’m a bit skeptical about some of the things you’ve documented.”

Shapiro shook his head.
The wrong General,
he thought.

“I can buy that they’ve invented some new propulsion system that allows them to fly these massive houseboats. I can even buy that they’ve got some other interesting toys in there,” Marquez said. “What I’m having trouble with, is the idea that they have absolute technological superiority. You’ve made it sound like they’re some alien superpower from another galaxy.”

“We hadn’t considered that possibility,” DeMarko said. Somebody snickered but Shapiro glared at his agent in disapproval.

Ignoring the comment, the General continued. “So as of today we’re going to discontinue trying to gather intel and we’re going to move forward with only one objective: shutting down Colton Taylor and his entire operation.”

“If I may beg your pardon General,” Eriksson said. “These agents have been doing an outstanding job of trying to penetrate their security, but they’ve been met by superior technology at every turn. I’ve also watched Stormhaven flaunt their prowess without concern. I think a course of continuous containment and gradual escalation might be more appropriate.”

“I appreciate your input Major,” Marquez said, “but the President wants this done in the most expedient manner possible. I intend to get it done within seventy-two hours.”

“What about their internet bomb?” DeMarko asked.

“The President has already assumed control of the media,” Marquez said. “That was the critical milestone upon which the rest of Operation
Stormhaven Down
is predicated.”

“Support of the media is not essential to the successful implementation of their psychological counterstrike,” DeMarko said.

“That may be true,” the General said, “but even if we cannot secure their release protocols, we are capable of mitigating its effectiveness through utilizing our media as a countermeasure.”

“A propaganda war?” DeMarko said. “I wouldn’t want to guarantee the outcome of that one.”

“We’ve taken the worst-case scenario into consideration,” Marquez said.

“If you say so General,” DeMarko said.

“What I need to know is whether anyone can say that Stormhaven has weaponized any of their technologies,” the General said, looking at each of them individually and waiting for an answer.

“We’ve been unable to confirm or refute that possibility,” Abrams said when it was his turn to face Marquez’ scrutiny.

“Then we’ll begin
Stormhaven Down
as planned,” Marquez said. “Until then, you’re all dismissed."

Shapiro waited as the others filed from the room, wanting his chance to speak his mind. Once they were alone he shook his head in disapproval. “General, I have to ask how thoroughly you have read our assessments? If I may be frank, I think you’re overplaying our hand. Colton Taylor is the most unpredictable man I’ve ever encountered, and if you’re planning to take him out using a conventional approach, you’re going to find he’s got more slick moves than a pool full of eels.”

“I understand that,” the General said, sounding more casual now that only the two of them remained. “We’ve moved enough equipment into the field of play that if he’s as smart as you say, he’ll fold.”

“Colton Taylor does not fold,” the agent said. “He may bluff, but he’ll play his hand to the end of the game.”

“I’ve read that line about smart money never betting against him,” Marquez said, “but I don’t think anyone’s ever seen him sitting across the table from an entire brigade either.”

“Maybe not, but he’s still not going to do what you think he’ll do,” Shapiro said. “You should talk to him before you put too much faith in your plan.”

“Fine. How long would it take to get him online?” Marquez asked.

At that moment a monitor on a shelf behind him hissed and an image of Colton Taylor appeared. Shapiro saw it and almost laughed. “Not long, I’d guess,” he said. Marquez seemed a little disturbed, but controlled his face so none of his surprise showed when he turned.

“You wanted to talk to me, General Marquez?” Cole asked.

“In fact I did, Mr. Taylor,” the General said, turning to fully face the screen. “I want to inform you that you have—“

“Yes I know,” Colton interrupted. “Seventy-two hours to surrender or you’re going to overrun Stormhaven with an armored brigade. I’m also aware that you sincerely intend to try.”

“I see you’ve been listening,” Marquez said. “Probably a mistake on my part in not assuming that you had the ability to eavesdrop.”

“People who live in canvas houses shouldn’t tell secrets,” Colton said.

“Well then, you know what we’re expecting from you, and you know we’ve got the equipment to force you to comply.”

“What you need to know is that you aren’t bringing enough help,” he said. The screen went blank before Marquez could respond.

“I’m afraid I have to agree, General,” Shapiro said. “At this moment, I’m not inclined to bet against him.”

***

Stormhaven:

They’d been at it for hours, debating their next action. Cole had called the meeting since there was no more hardware coming up the road. The moment of truth had arrived.

No one was ready to back down now that they’d come this far, especially since they were still wedged between the asteroid and the hard position. But as Viki had pointed out, this wasn’t like screwing with the reality of some Secret Service agents, this was staring down the barrel of far too many big guns to be comfortable.

When Marquez made his grand entrance, Mica had asked them if they’d like to eavesdrop on his briefing. It was simple enough to open up the microphone on Shapiro’s comlink so they’d had a virtual seat at the table.

After his brief exchange with the General, Cole saw a different level of resolve on their faces. Only Viki’s showed any sign of reservation.

“Do you think we can stop that much firepower with just four of those gravity lasers?” she asked.

“In theory,” Cole said. “Though I think we ought to try them against a real target before we put that to the test."

“Maybe if they see we’re capable of defending ourselves, they’ll back off a bit,” Tom said, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

“Marquez seems determined to hold to that deadline,” Dave said. “He’s got a reputation as a serious hardass."

“If we’re going to test the weapon, we need to try a moving vehicle first and see what happens. Something like a Humvee maybe?” Cole said.

Mica displayed an image of the near side of the military camp. There were several parked vehicles around the tents, and one swinging across the eastern edge of their perimeter.

“The vehicle in motion is traveling at approximately twenty miles per hour,” Mica said. “I should be able to stop this vehicle without injuring any of the occupants.”

“Do it,” Cole said.

A targeting reticule showed up on the display and flashed red. The Humvee skidded to the right and smoke started pouring out from under the hood. The driver flung the door open and jumped out. It was difficult to tell what’d happened, but it appeared he’d lost control of the truck and it had run afoul on the rocks.

“That doesn’t look too impressive,” Dave said.

“Not if we’re going to be stopping artillery with those things,” Tom agreed. “Maybe we should see if we can push one of the jets off course?”

“That could be dangerous,” Cole said. “The airframes on those things are fragile."

“Actually they’re not too bad,” Dave said. “They’re composite carbon so they can take quite a bit of lateral force. We might be able to shove it fairly hard before it’d do any damage.”

“What do you think Mica?” Cole asked. “Can you slow or deflect one of the patrol jets?”

“I am capable of targeting one of the jets,” the computer said. “How much energy would you like me to apply?”

“Enough to make the pilot work to stay on course,” Dave suggested. “Maybe slow him down by fifty percent?”