"This is the ready pattern," Hopper's voice came into the backs of the helmet. "As soon as the satellite connection comes through, imagery should appear."
Mackey waited, feeling his legs extend further from him, buzzing slightly through either dizziness or hunger. The floating sensation was different than the pool he swam in every morning. It was not wet, because of the suit and helmet. His buoyancy in the saline liquid made him rise high in the tank. He felt like an unloaded barge, almost top-heavy, desiring of ballast or forward motion, wishing he could push against the liquid in his familiar strokes. The green reticle hashes began rotating, slowly, around the green circle in the dark. Mackey began to feel uncomfortable, unstable, vertiginous, as if he was lying on a thin plank, suspended above on unknown height. He thought he heard, through the audio system, very faint sounds of what he was sure was . . . Bach?
"Does anyone hear that?" he asked, to no response. He felt pressure on his arms and chest. Was he lying on his back? Or was he flipped over, head down? His breathing was quick, unsteady.
And then the visual feed appeared in a burst of static, giving way to a grey sea, bouncing quickly, moving rapidly underneath him. He was on the prow of a boat, as if standing erect. Mackey braced himself for the force of the wind that he could hear in his ears, but there was none. He was bouncing with the motion of the vessel, speeding over the waves, but his feet were firmly anchored, like he was a rod of iron connected to the bottom of the ship. He suddenly felt very stable, as if the weight of a heavy blow would simply bounce off of him like a pebble.
Hopper asked for a check-in, and all responded. She informed them of their status. "We're each on board a different hovercraft. You'll see the indicators, which will make it clear who is who. The strike force is moving into position north of Grand Island. We'll cross due south onto the land near Marquette, and advance up the P-car tracks to the southeast until we get to National Mine. Then it will be a short jaunt across country to the Project Sanguine site.
"You are on autopilot until you get your bearings. After about sixty seconds, your vision control will phase in. Try looking about you. Don't turn your head, just think about turning your head, and the cameras' composite image will pan for you. I think you'll find that your adaption to the control system will occur fairly quickly."
Mackey already saw his vision drifting, and seized control, looking down to try and see what his legs were standing on. The image pivoted rapidly, so quickly that Mackey forgot about trying to move his chin, and just used his eyes. Looking down, he saw the black rubber skirt bouncing just above the waves. But he could not see his legs—obviously, he thought. But he wondered, then, what was he exactly? A large camera-studded ball, strapped to the deck?
Mackey tried to turn about and look behind him, and did so easily. There was a slight delay, but by only gingerly changing direction, he was able to control his vision angle fairly well. The hovercraft extended behind him, dark green, with the Coast Guard's orange and white livery stripe and blue Transportation eagle insignia visible along the side of the angular, darkened crew housing. The craft was about forty feet long, capped on the end by two massive fan nacelles, which reminded him of Parsons' Vail aircraft. On top of the crew housing, glistening black in the thin rays of sun that were passing through the partly cloudy sky, were a pair of multi-barreled machine gun turrets.
Looking off to the starboard side, Mackey saw a long line of hovercraft, all identical. Above each was a hovering green indicator in the shape of a downward pointing triangle, accompanied by a string of unparsable numbers and letters. Four of them resolved, flipping digits until they decoded to read Hopper, Parsons, Ross, and Thompson, respectively. On the bow of each of these craft he saw a short post with a white ball on the end. That must be what he was looking through—one of the remote units, fixed to the boat. But all the hovercraft, not just those four, had the remote posts on the bow. The other indicators did not resolve, remaining a scrambled string of text. Who, he wondered, might be viewing through those remotes?
"We have multiple contacts, bearing 290. Range, six miles," an unfamiliar voice announced through the sound system.
Hopper responded immediately. "Hostile, Commander?"
"Likely out of Ashland Harbor," the voice replied. "That would be a USGS Corps rapid response. Radar makes ten ships, fast cutters. 110 feet. Each armed with 25 mm autocannons."
Mackey heard Ross' voice cut through. "Can't we just outrun them?"
Hopper responded. "We're faster than them, but they are cutting us off. Looks like we're going to have to engage."
"How do I control this thing?" It was Parsons, naturally. "How do I shoot?"
"Radar autopilot is still engaged," explained Hopper. "You'll need to get acclimated to the difference between visual and physical control. It can be awkward at first. We'll spread out the formation before turning over to remote control. The last thing we need is to all crash into each other."
"No one said anything about driving a hovercraft," Mackey interrupted. "I've never piloted anything larger than a bicycle in my life."
"Seize the moment, Fred!" Parsons shouted through the channel, encouragingly. "Nothing like the heat of combat to teach you!"
"Can't the autopilot do the fighting?" asked Thompson, not really fearful, but clearly a bit reticent as well.
"No," Hopper said quickly. "The radar keeps the craft on course, and prevents it from hitting anything. But combat takes human foresight and quick thinking. I'm afraid that's the way it is, and there's no time to argue. Commander, give the order for a combat spread. They might outgun us, but we're faster than them. If we can draw them out and circle them at high speed, hopefully we can disable a few of them and encourage them to pack it in."
"Yes, Assistant Secretary," the commander replied. "Initiating combat spread, four groups."
The hovercraft began spreading apart, diverging from each other in wide turns until there were four groups heading in different directions. Mackey's boat turned sharply to the left, and he saw the boats marked Hopper, Ross, and Parsons join other groups, while Thompson followed his. There were five in his group, including Thompson. A green indicator text lit up in the corner of his vision, reading ‘Delta Group.' At least I know my group name, Mackey thought.
He looked out into the distance, wondering in which direction the enemy ships lay. Suddenly, a compass heading appeared in green at the top of his vision. He turned until he saw 290 degrees appear, but he could not make anything out through the haze. He squinted to try and see further. He was surprised to see the view flicker and magnify, flicker and magnify again. The lenses on the remote camera system must be changing in response to his thoughts.
Then he saw them—grey ships, seemingly towering above the water, though still far away. They were breaking formation as well, cutting into courses out towards them in groups of twos and threes.
"You will start to feel manual control kick in," Hopper announced. "Test it out. Just think about moving in the direction you want, and learn how the system responds."
His vision resetting to normal lensing, Mackey felt his hovercraft decrease in speed, and the other craft in his group began to overtake him. Not wanting to be left behind, he thought ‘faster.' Not of the word itself, but of the idea—the desire to catch up, not be left behind. The craft accelerated as the massive rotor blades kicked into high speed, and he pulled up behind the group. He thought about moving left, and then right, and watched as the hovercraft waggled slightly, tail heavy, as the rudders behind the ducted fans adjusted according to his whim. There appeared to be some sort of computer-assisted steering going on. A craft as awkwardly propelled as a hovercraft couldn't be so simple to control naturally. Okay, he thought. Maybe this isn't so bad after all.
"Your weapons will be armed when I give the order to engage," Hopper explained. "You have two Vulcan 15 mm chain-guns. They aren't as big or as long range as the autocannons the
USGS are packing. But they spit out 6,000 armor-piercing rounds a minute, compared to their 200. Use short bursts, or you'll burn through all your ammunition. Aim above the waterline, two-thirds of the way back, below the funnel. We'll try and disable their engines.
"Your targeting system is online, although the weapons are not. Try it out. Each gun is controlled independently. The best way I can describe it is to extend the index finger of each hand. That should bring up the reticle. When you want to fire, squeeze. Do it with your mind, not with your hand."
Mackey gave it a try, and once again he was surprised by how easy it seemed. As he barely formed the idea of extending his fingers, two small green circles popped up into the sky. He squinted towards the distance, and his vision magnified until he could see the two ships speeding in their direction. He moved the circles until they both lined up on the superstructure of the leading vessel. Shocked at how easy it was, he relaxed, and the circles disappeared.
Were there human beings on those ships? Were there, for that matter, any human beings on the hovercraft he was controlling? He supposed that his boat was uncrewed—or certainly they would have given command of it to anyone other than him. But were there USGS Corps sailors on board those ships bearing down on them now? Would they fire at him? Was he really defending himself, if he was actually floating in a tank nearly one thousand miles away?
The USGS ships were growing larger now, and Mackey looked around to get a sense of what his group was doing. They had extended in a long line, single file, attempting to cut across the path of the leading cutter, increasing the relative motion between themselves and the USGS as much as possible. Mackey looked out and saw puffs of smoke erupt from the bows of both ships. Were they on fire? Had they been hit already?
And then the sea erupted on the opposite side of the line of hovercrafts, jets of spray soaking the decks of the lead boat. They were being fired upon! The hovercraft ahead of Mackey began oscillating, jockeying back and forth across the waves as they turned, changing heading to avoid the gunners' corrections. He did likewise, wondering what a 20 mm shell would do to the small, flimsy craft and its nacelles.
Looking out at the USGS ships, he saw them bending to the side, turning at high speed to alter course and follow them. The hovercraft were too fast, and were still closing distance, even while taking a wide, clockwise arc around the larger ships. Mackey saw the ships open fire again. This time shells landed in a staggered line across the arc of hovercrafts. A shell hit one of the hovercrafts ahead of Mackey and exploded, shattering the hull. It veered to port, quickly losing speed, and then flipping. He watched in horror as he saw several helmeted figures dressed in combat fatigues catapulted from the wreckage, hitting the water with a hard, twisting motion.
There were people on board! Were they on board his craft as well? Was he about to get an unknown group of Coast Guard sailors flung into the water or blown up with shells, all over some unknown inter-Departmental intrigue?
"We're taking fire, one boat was destroyed!" Mackey shouted. "There are—there were people on board! We're risking lives here! What are we doing?"
Hopper's voice came over the speaker. "Get ahold of yourself, Mackey. We know what we're doing. Stay in control."
"We're all part of the same government, aren't we? Why is this happening?"
"I can't answer that, because I don't know. But as you can see, they are going to keep shooting. If we want to know why, we have to disable those ships."
Mackey felt a hovercraft slide up along his starboard side. He looked, and it was Thompson. He heard the ranger's voice over the communication link. "I know what you're feeling, Fred. But it's like on that hillside, when you leapt at that officer. He was holding a gun. You didn't know why, but you knew you had to act. Let's do this. Let's take out their engines, and then we'll find out why."
He wished he could have seen Thompson's face when he said it, but all he saw was a dark green hovercraft, identical to his own. "All right, Gene. All right. Let's put an end to it." Mackey accelerated, turning sharply in towards the ships, skewing his craft tail-outward with the force of the turn. Thompson cut in behind him, following tight on his port side.
"Good lad, Mackey." Hopper's voice reassured him from the back of his helmet. "You're only half a click from entering range. Your weapons are now hot. Break group, and circle in opposite directions to draw their fire. Look out for crossfire as you complete the arc."
In front, the first two remaining hovercraft broke towards starboard, circling out to get around the pair of ships counterclockwise. Mackey and Thompson continued, heading straight on, before dodging towards port to circle clockwise. The USGS gunners, confused over which to follow, stopped firing for a moment. This gave the hovercraft a chance to break in towards the tall grey hulls.
Mackey pulled up the reticles, now a deep crimson. He put them over the hull of the closest ship, and when the ship was turned perpendicular to him, he thought of squeezing. With a jolt, his hovercraft pushed back across the waves as a roaring sound filled his ears. On the side of the ship, he saw a blaze of dark smoke where the grey hull opened up. And then he stopped, the shots only lasting for a single second, like a quick rip of fabric.
The gunners on the USGS ship attempted to acquire targets out of their confusion, and sprays of water opened across the surface of the sea in front of Mackey. He dodged left, then right, then left again. Looking back, he saw Thompson take an equally short run at the ship, his shots impacting further aft. They both circled around as the other two hovercraft completed their runs. The four fan-driven craft crossed paths, confusing the gunners again momentarily. The ships maintained course, expecting the hovercrafts to make another run.
"They're still moving!" Mackey shouted.
"Let's give them another pass!" Thompson responded. On the communications channel, Mackey could hear that the other hovercraft groups were engaging targets as well, though he couldn't see them in the confusion and stress of the battle.
On the second arc, Mackey placed the reticles quicker and opened up earlier, releasing a machinic flight of hornets at three times the speed of sound towards the USGS ship. But the force of the guns firing drove him sideways over some rough chop in the water, and with his hull knocked upward, the bullets rose above the deck, showering the superstructure of the cutter. He saw glints of sparks, smoke, and then brief flame as some superficial fixtures caught fire, and he quickly released.
The USGS ships moved apart, widening their footprint, to make the circle the hovercraft traveled wider, and slow down their radial motion. As Mackey and Thompson passed the other pair of hovercrafts on another loop, Thompson shouted over the circuit: "Delta group team, split and head opposite directions! Mackey and I will cut through the center!"
Before Mackey had a chance to argue the other two craft proceeded with the plan, each heading in opposite directions around the ships, drawing both cannon to follow them. Thompson turned rapidly, skipping across the surface of the water, and made a beeline for the space between the USGS ships. Mackey, inhaling deeply, turned to follow. As they entered the gap, the USGS cannons were turned outward, attempting to track the other pair of circling hovercraft.
"Get a good shot in on the port ship, Fred! I'll take the starboard."
Mackey watched as the gun turrets on Thompson's hovercraft swiveled to the right. Its thrusters pivoted, and the hovercraft slowed and swung around to the right, drifting left in a strafing pattern. Both guns had a full, uninhibited shot.
That is a good trick, Mackey thought. Then the guns opened up—protruding tongues of flame and a hazy cloud of ejected cartridges filled the air above Thompson's hovercraft. Before Mackey had a chance to see the damage, it was his turn.
He thought about that maneuver that Thompson had thrown, and tried to put himself into it. He thought about leading with his hip, and the craft began to turn and slide across the waves, facing him towards the ship on the por
t side. He pointed, the reticles appeared dead below the funnel of the ship, and he fired. He was so close, he could see the grey metal panels buckle and blister, opening like the flap of an envelope under a knife.
Past the ship now, Mackey saw the USGS cannons begin to turn about towards him, and he corrected his sideways glide as he increased thrust, thinking with all his will about getting the hell out of there. He followed Thompson, skating out across the waves in a wide arc, putting distance between themselves and the ships, as cannon shots impacted the water around them.
"I think we got them!" Thompson shouted over the channel. Mackey turned and looked behind him, and indeed, it appeared that both ships were stopped—and there was a thick black smoke emitting from one of them, a different color than the thin grey vapor from the funnels when they had been underway.
"Delta group, if your targets are halted, rally to Beta and give support!" the Assistant Secretary ordered over the line.
A green indicator reading "Beta" appeared. It was Parsons' group. Thompson, Mackey, and the two other hovercraft formed a diagonal echelon and sped off across the waves in that direction. Mackey zoomed in his vision to get a handle on the situation. The group had been facing three cutters. One was disabled, but three hovercraft had been destroyed. The two active ships were taking erratic, evasive action, and it was all that Parsons and the other hovercraft could do to stay out of the automatic cannon fire.
"Let's give them some help, Delta group," Mackey said. "Thompson and I will take the farthest ship; you two lend a hand to Parsons on the near side."
They split into these two smaller groups, to give the USGS gunners more targets to track. Cutting out in an clockwise arc around the two dodging ships, Thompson and Mackey watched their target's heading, looking for an opening.
"Should we try and get in behind it?" Mackey asked.
"Let's wait until it turns towards us, and head straight in. At a faster relative speed we'll be harder to hit. Beta unit—" Thompson called to the other craft, still desperately trying to avoid the ship's cannon fire, "wait until it targets us, and then move in for the kill."
Orthogonal Procedures Page 18
