Troy Rising 3 - The Hot Gate (21 page)

“Buenos Aires ATC, MOGs Two, flight of two Myrmidon shuttles, requesting clearance for descent from orbital.”

“Roger, MOGs Two. Descent path transmitting. You are number one for landing after approach to pattern. Unlimited descent rate authorized. Approach from the east.”

“So much for no hot-dogging,” Dana commed. “Looks like they want us to drop it. Beni, you ever do a hot drop?”

“Negative, Comet.”

“You need to maintain five hundred meters separation, behind by fifty. Get closer than that and the plasma shock sucks. Just lock the bead and follow me. We will not, however, be engaging in evasive maneuvers. Gimme a readback.”

“Five hundred meter separation, aye,” Benito commed. Coms did not transmit much in the way of emotion but the virtual sigh was apparent. “Fifty meters to the rear, aye. No evasive maneuvers, aye.”

Dana braked out of the LEO parking orbit and programmed in a hot drop. Shuttles could counteract far more than the earth’s gravity and as such they had no need to do a “hot” reentry like the rocket based systems. They could slow down to speeds which did not cause plasma build-up on reentry. Such entries were, however, slower than a hot drop.

There was a clear window from LEO, so as soon as the brake was completed, she nosed down and accelerated into the atmosphere. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

“Interesting that we’re coming in from the east,” Dana said, apparently unfazed by the buffeting.

The inertial systems could overcome up to four hundred gravities of momentum. The shocks and buffets the shuttle was experiencing were far lower than four hundred gravities.

However, the inertial system was based upon programmed delta-v. The system made a bank that would crack an F-16 in half and turn the pilot to mush feel as if the passengers were in a building set on rock. External, unprogrammed, shocks were a different matter.

The craft felt like it was being repeatedly hit by triphammers.

“Probably because coming in from the west we’d be flying over Chile,” Velasquez said, his voice breaking into a slight squeak. “The two countries have a long history of conflict. Hull temperature approaching four thousand degrees C?”

“We’re good,” Dana said as another triphammer hit. “We’re getting into the deep atmosphere. That’ll start to cool us down.”

“Not if we don’t slow down,” Velasquez pointed out.

“We are slowing down,” Dana said, breezily. “We’re dropping past Mach Fifteen already.”

In fact, she was continuously braking in a smooth curve. By the time they hit the “real deep” they were dropping below the speed of sound. Of course, due to the varying speed of sound at different levels of the atmosphere, they’d broken the sound barrier seven times.

“LZ in sight,” Dana said as they dropped under Mach One. “Our vector is straight to the cargo. Engineer’s forward and we are going to do this by the numbers. Beni, skids on three…”

* * *

“Are they going to crash?”

The Buenos Aires spaceport had been in business for over ten years. With all the damage world-wide, Buenos Aires had become more prominent than before the Horvath and Rangora attacks and it was an important city even before New York, LA, London and Paris had been destroyed. The space port had a fair amount of traffic. Not as much as the Foreign Minister of Argentina would prefer, but it was not like he had not seen spacecraft take off and land. Columbia shuttles arrived or left several times a day.

Currently he was watching what appeared to be two crashing Myrmidons. The craft were coming in fast and more or less straight down. They looked as if they were falling.

“I certainly hope not,” Dr. Guillermo Palencia said. “Dario is on one of them.”

That had come as a bit of a shock. He knew that his son was part of the 143rd of course and that that unit had been chosen to supply the shuttles for their party. The South American portion of the meeting had planned upon insisting before learning that the 143rd had already been tapped. But there were forty engineers in the unit. However, when he’d thought about it it was natural that the Norte Americanos would send his son. They would see it as a way to make him more amenable to negotiation.

If Dario died, that plan, at least, would be out the window.

Suddenly landing skids dropped from the shuttles and at a rate that should have smashed the crew flat the shuttles slowed, dropped and in perfect unison touched the ground. Almost simultaneously the ramps on the ships dropped, revealing two space suited figures, sans helmets, in the opening.

No father could be prouder as his son marched down the ramp and up to Admiral Benito.

“Apparently the One-Forty-Third is not quite as incapable as has been suggested,” Dr. Palencia said, grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

“Admiral, MOGs Two, flight of two Myrmidon shuttles, is at your service, sir,” Palencia said, saluting.

“Engineer’s Mate,” Admiral Benito said, returning the salute. He glanced over the engineer’s shoulder and tried very hard not to grin as Beni took up position by the opening at a position of attention. “What are the conditions of boarding?”

“Personnel will assist as the Admiral orders, sir,” Palencia replied. “We are entirely at your service, sir.”

* * *

“Who is that?” The Foreign Minister asked, soto voce. A short-coupled blonde woman the Admiral didn’t recognize had taken up position in the opening of one of the shuttles.

Even before the words were out of his mouth he heard a grunt from Palencia.

“That is the infamous Comet Parker,” Dr. Palencia whispered.

“What?” the Foreign Minister said, trying to control his features. He was a career diplomat. He should have been able to keep his temper. “Your son apparently neglected to mention that. General, a moment of your time?”

* * *

Comet stood by the door at attention with a fixed smile that was more of a rictus on her face while there was a quick and what looked very much like unplanned colloquy among the various DPs. Then, en masse, they headed for Shuttle Twenty-Four. The hanger’s on and baggage handlers followed.

“What the hell?” Dana muttered.

A few minutes later she got a com chime.

“Twenty-three, we’re loaded and preparing to close the ramp,” Palencia commed.

“Okee, dokee,” Dana commed. “Vel, time to close it up.”

* * *

“Was that as much of a snub as it looked like?” Dana asked as soon as Vel was in his seat.

“Yes,” Velasquez said. “I’m sorry but apparently they did not get the word about your presence on the trip.”

“Sorry you didn’t get to talk to your dad,” Dana said. “Twenty-Four, you ready to lift?”

“Just getting the DPs settled.”

“Take your time,” Dana said. “We’ve only got a dozen admirals and other bigwigs waiting on us in Crystal City.”

“It…may be a bit,” Palencia commed.

* * *

“Was this a deliberate insult?” Dr. Palencia shouted. “And why in the hell didn’t any of you young idiots bother to mention that one of the pilots was Parker?”

“Frankly, Father, I wasn’t sure how to explain it,” Dario said, shrugging. “I don’t know why she was chosen. It could be an insult. But I don’t think that Parker is even aware of it if it is. She is not…subtle.”

“Perhaps it was to throw us off,” Dr. Barreiro said.

“I doubt that it was intended as a deliberate insult, gentlemen.” Jorge Herrera could have done without the surprise. This was a hard enough group of cats to herd.

“It must be in one form or another deliberate,” Admiral Benito said. “Parker is assigned as an engineer. So in addition to the insult, they sent an unqualified pilot.”

“Father, there I must disagree,” Benito said. “Parker is as qualified as any pilot in the squadron. When it comes to space flight, she is more qualified than even Coxswain Contreras.”

“Colonel Contreras took an enormous drop in pay, rank and prestige to have the opportunity to be a shuttle pilot,” General Barcena said, furiously. “He sacrificed for the good of his country and his race. How dare you suggest that a pilot with five thousand hours of flight time is not the equal of some trumped up little slattern? He should have been the other pilot. I assumed he would be chosen for a mission of this prestige.”

“As you say, General,” Benito replied. “May I have permission to lift? There are others awaiting our arrival in Washington.”

“Yes,” the General said. “We should be going.”

“Dario, you will stay here,” the Foreign Minister said. “There are matters to discuss.”

“I have duties, Minister,” Dario said, helplessly.

“Benito must fly,” Dr. Palencia said. “What do you have to do?”

“My position is in the flight compartment, Father,” Dario said. He looked at the General, in desperation. “Sir, my duties are in the flight compartment.”

“If the Foreign Minister orders you to remain, you will remain. That is an order.”

“Yes, General.” Parker is going to kick my ass for this.

* * *

“Twenty-Four, prepared to lift.”

On a hunch, Dana activated the internal flight cameras.

“One, you don’t take off without your engineer’s butt in the cup,” Dana said. “Especially when we’re going through earth’s rubble belt. Two, you were specifically ordered to have minimum contact with the DPs. I’m seeing two gross violations or orders at the same time. Joy.”

“When you’re ordered by a general to sit, you sit, Twenty-Three.”

“Holy hell,” Dana muttered. “Stand by.”

* * *

“Holy hell,” MOGs muttered. “How sure are you on the boat?”

“Sir, it’s my division’s boat,” Dana commed. “Or I wouldn’t have brought it. It’s good.”

“Can’t that stupid son-of-a-bitch understand orders?” MOGs snarled. “I’m going to roast him over a slow flame.”

“Apparently General Barcena gave the order, sir,” Dana commed. “I’m thinking last order from a superior sort of holds, sir.”

“The details of how we define who is and is not permitted to give orders to whom start getting complicated. Technically, no, he’s in direct violation. Flagrant, even. But I’m not going to piss all over DPs. Thermal, remote monitor Twenty-Four. Permission to lift without the engineer’s butt in the cup.”

“Permission to lift, aye.”

* * *

“Where the hell are they?” Tyler fumed.

“Sir, with respect,” Admiral Gina Duvall said. Admiral Duvall was short and pushing fifty with red hair and a permanent set of smile wrinkles. Most career military, especially career female military, tended to develop a completely different set of wrinkles. Duvall seemed to be stuck on happy. “With South Americans, it’s a bit like herding cats. They’re probably still having negotiations over who gets what seats.”

“In fact, that is not the case, Admiral.” Rafael Velez was a Deputy Assistant Under Secretary from the South American desk in the State Department. “While the inclusion of Engineer’s Mate Parker in the party was noted, with some trepidation on the part of the State Department I might add, the fact that she was one of the pilots somehow escaped our attention. Which is unfortunate. This has caused a bit of an incident.”

“Because she’s not a Sud?” Tyler asked. “Or is it the blonde hair. God, I hate racists and sexists and South Americans meet both criteria.”

“In fact that is not the issue, exactly,” Velez said, in a slightly strangled tone. “The issue is that… Engineer’s Mate Parker has come to the attention of some of the South American distinguished persons before. Most of them, in fact.”

“Why?” Tyler asked. “Never mind. There they are! Why the hell are they taking it so slow?”

“They were specifically ordered to maintain calm flight conditions, sir,” Admiral Duvall said. “Can’t bang the DPs around.”

“Why not?” Tyler asked. “I’d have done a hot drop.”

The shuttles very carefully dropped the last few hundred feet and landed, lined up with the two already on the ground.

“Okay!” Tyler said, bounding out of the terminal. “Which one’s Twenty-Three? Never mind, I see the markings…”

* * *

“Ah, that is Mr. Vernon,” the Argentinean Foreign Minister said watching the short figure more or less running out of the terminal. It had nearly come to blows who would be the first to exit the shuttle, Argentina or Chile. Finally, EM Palencia had pointed out that the ramp was more than wide enough for both of them to exit side-by-side.

“He seems excited to see…” Dr. Werden started to say as the magnate continued on into the other shuttle.

“Minister and… Minister,” Mr. Velez said. “It is a pleasure to see you in Crystal City once again…”

“Where is Mister Vernon going?” Dr. Barreiro asked, sharply.

“Ah, as a matter of fact…” Velez said, cautiously. “I am not sure…”

“This is hardly what I call proper protocol,” Dr. Werden said.

“Unfortunately… I don’t have any control over Tyler Vernon, Minister. I don’t think anyone has any control over Tyler Vernon. I’m not sure Tyler Vernon can control Tyler Vernon. He is less a rich man than a force of nature.”

Vernon appeared from the shuttle, practically dragging Parker by the arm.

“Hey, is this the South Americans?” Tyler asked, trotting up the ramp of Twenty-Four and throwing his arm over Parker’s shoulder. “Guys, I want you to meet one of my best friends. This is Comet Parker. Comet, this is Dr. Barreiro, the Argentinean Foreign Minister and Dr. Werden the Chilean Foreign Minister. I’m surprised you guys rode the other boat. When I knew I was going to have to take Myrms I specifically requested Parker as my driver. She’s the best damned coxswain in the Navy and a great engineer. If she says a boat’s good, it’s good.” He paused and looked around at the assembled DPs. “Something wrong?”

* * *

“I was unaware that you knew Mister Vernon that well,” Velasquez said.

“So was I,” Dana said.

“He ran into the compartment and practically tackled you,” the EA pointed out.