by Bob Mauldin
Lucy sat quietly for a time. “Seems like I taught you too well, girl.” She shook her head. “And I’m sure you know how I’m going to fly to Ohio, spend my free time, and get back?”
“Of course.” Innocence ran rampant through the room. “You’ll climb into a Mamba, fly to Cincinnati, meet your folks and fly back three days later.”
“‘Climb into a Mamba,’ huh? Are you aware of things like flight plans?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” Diana said stiffly. “You have to file one upon departure, which you can do with our own control tower here. Then, when you reach Cincinnati, they’ll pick you up on their radar and request identification. You tell ‘em ‘First Captain Grimes, Terran Alliance, requests permission to land,’ and you’ll be added to the landing pattern.”
“And just how do you know all this?”
“Brandon told me, ma’am.”
“Brandon? You’re on a first name basis with Agent Galway? Since when?”
“Since I called him last week.”
“You called him?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What about?
“About your vacation, ma’am.”
Lucy finally recognized Diana’s retreat into formality and apologized. “I’m sorry, Di. Really, I am. Tired, I guess. And a real good reason for that time off, huh?” she asked sheepishly.
“Pretty much. You know, your folks would probably love to see their kid climb out of a Mamba. I’ll bet you could have quite a reception if just your old friends were aware of your arrival.”
“I’ll bet you’ve taken care of that, too, right?” Lucy said with a small grin.
Diana smiled. “I asked your folks to tell anyone they trusted not to spill it to reporters. Cincinnati Traffic Control was spoken to by Galway. They should keep quiet, too. It’ll slip out somehow, but you should only wind up with local news if you’re lucky.”
“Won’t someone get pissed about that?” Lucy asked.
“Probably only reporters, since Agent Galway is handling security from that end. But if we don’t say anything, they can’t get mad until after the fact, and then you’ll be gone. Plus, the Heinlein will have you under surveillance the whole time. And you do have your wristband. You can’t beam out of course, because you wouldn’t want to leave your Mamba behind, but you sure can call for help.”
“Okay,” Lucy said with a smile. “You’ve covered all the bases, I guess. So, who have you spoken to besides Galway?”
“Oh, just Greater Cincinnati International Airport’s control tower. They’ll be expecting to hear from you. Did you know it’s actually in Kentucky? Of course, you did,” Diana yammered on, showing her nervousness. “And I spoke to your folks, of course. Called ‘em to let ‘em know your arrival time, and they’ll be there to meet you.”
Lucy’s silence stretched out and Diana finally asked, “Did I do wrong?”
“No!” Lucy announced with enthusiasm. “It’s just that I haven’t seen them since this started. My little brother will be, oh, almost twenty by now. I’ve managed to get a call in every now and then, but the opportunity to go home just hasn’t presented itself. I guess I’ve got some fences to mend and some explaining to do, huh?”
Diana smiled at the mental picture of the leader of the Terran Alliance getting called on the carpet and chewed out. “Yeah, I guess. You know, you could call now and be home in time for dinner. One word of advice though. Once you get near Cincinnati, Brandon says you should slow down to the same speeds as other aircraft. And be sure your transponder is on. You know how tight U.S. security is these days.”
“You’re right about that,” Lucy said. “And, Diana?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Thanks.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucy’s natural exuberance at being back in the cockpit of a Mamba was tinged with worry at her family’s reaction to her absence, return, and situation, so she herded the machine northwest at a speed only slightly faster than most military jets. America’s state-of-the-art craft was the F-15, also known as the Eagle. It flew in excess of Mach two (upper limit classified), and at will, her Mamba could leave an Eagle in the dust. The high speed reduced her travel time, and her passage through a number of radar nets produced enough radio chatter that she didn’t have time to get a full case of nerves before she finally heard, “Unidentified aircraft, this is Cincinnati International Control. Please state your identity and destination.”
Lucy squirmed upright in her seat, removed the ship from autopilot and answered, “Cincinnati Control, this is First Captain Grimes, piloting Alliance Flight One, requesting permission to land at GCIA.”
After a brief pause, a new voice spoke to her. “Alliance Flight One, welcome to Greater Cincinnati airspace. Permission granted. Do you have special landing requirements, and what is your fuel situation?”
“My fuel situation is fine. I guess you guys would say ‘nominal’ or something like that. I can go into your holding pattern and stay there all day if I have to. As to my landing requirements, this ship has full VTOL capabilities, and I only need a space about two hundred feet long and two hundred wide.”
“Very well, Alliance One, reduce your speed to two-five-oh and your altitude to four thousand. On my mark, come to a heading of oh-three-oh.”
“Uh, what’s your name, guy? We need to talk. Oh, yeah. Speed two-five-oh, I think, and altitude about four thousand.”
The voice came back. “Uh, I’m Carson Gamble, First Captain. How can I help you?”
“Here’s the thing, Mr. Gamble. This ship isn’t really built to fly in this environment. It’s built for... a bit farther out, so it doesn’t have the kind of instrumentation to let me follow all of your instructions as given. You’re going to have to say things like ‘a little lower’ or ‘a lot slower.’ And I can hover at need. This ship will actually move backwards if necessary. And I’d appreciate it if you could have a mobile ladder available. This thing has a pretty big first step.”
“I have a suggestion, First Captain. First, I need you to cut your altitude by about half, please, and slow down a bit. Turn slightly to your left... there! Hold that heading for now. The suggestion—I can have a security car with its light bar lit up on the runway in about three minutes. Land behind him and taxi to a gate.”
“Counter-suggestion, Mr. Gamble. Have the car be in the middle of the space you want my ship to sit in for the next three days. As I get ready to land, the car moves, and I set down. There’s a defense shield around this ship that will damage anything that isn’t ground or concrete. By the way, do you know anything about whether or not my family has arrived?”
“Uh,” the voice said, “yes?” The last word had a questioning note in it. “There’s someone here who’d like to speak to you, First Captain. Reduce your altitude by another half, please, and bear a little to your right. There.”
Lucy could still hear the open channel to Gamble, but another voice spoke to her. “Morning, Lucy.”
“Brandon Galway! Your name was being bandied about just yesterday. What are you doing in Cincinnati?” As if I didn’t know! she thought.
“Well, it just so happens that you are a Seriously Important Person right now, and I was sent to coordinate things with the various agencies that have been alerted to see to your protection and keep the peace. It’s not like an announcement was made of your arrival, but there was no effort to conceal it either. We’ll just see to it that your visit has a minimum of, shall we say, disturbances? And if you don’t mind, I’d like to join the welcoming committee.”
“Well, thank you, Brandon. I appreciate that. And, of course you’re invited. I guess I’ll see you on the ground in a few minutes.”
“It’s a date. I’ll turn you back over to Mr. Gamble, then.” Galway’s voice disappeared as if it had never been, and Lucy shook her head at the incongruity of the conversation.
Twenty minutes later, Lucy’s Mamba floated into position above a white s
ecurity car, yellow lights flashing, and followed it to an out-of-the-way spot at the end of one of the concourses. The car stopped for a few seconds and then shot out from under the sleek, black apparition from outer space. Lucy looked around, saw a motorized boarding ladder waiting at one side of the designated area, and slowly cut her power. The deadly little vessel drifted lower until its landing skids touched the pavement, and she slapped the last few switches, cutting the last of her power to all systems.
She pulled the actuator key out of its slot, sliding it into place in a belt newly designed for that purpose, and opened the cockpit to find the ladder slowly being moved into position.
Feeling totally exposed even though she knew she was being monitored seven ways from Sunday, Lucy finally lifted her helmet off and set to one side of the instrument panel, climbed out onto the ladder, pulled her overnighter from the space behind her, and turned around. It was at that moment that the smoked-glass doors flew open and a tall, gangling youth vaulted the low fence that normally kept spectators away from arriving aircraft.
“Luce!”
She recognized the voice, although the form was a lot taller than she remembered. “Brucie?” she asked incredulously as the young man connected with her, knocking her bag flying. She finally disengaged from the hug he inflicted on her and pushed him far enough away to get a good look at him. “You’ve grown, squirt. You’re taller than I am now.” She grabbed one arm, turned him toward the terminal, slid one arm through his, and said, “Let’s get inside. I want to see the folks before they have a cow.”
“They won’t,” Bruce proclaimed positively, snagging his sister’s bag. “Mom keeps saying, ‘How did my little girl get into this?’ but I think she’s secretly pretty proud. And, Pop! You should hear him! ‘That’s my daughter running things up there.’ So, what’s it like to fly one of those things? Can I sit in it sometime? When do I get to join up? The word I hear is that you only have to be eighteen, and I’ll be twenty in a couple of months.”
Lucy laughed out loud and finally got a word in edgewise. “Let’s save that for later, okay? I’ve got stuff to tell you and show you that you’ll just die over, Bubba,” she said, using the diminutive that came so easily as she led him to the darkened glass doors. She stopped just before them and said, “Oh, yeah!” Turning back to face her ship, she pulled the key from its special pocket, pointed it at the craft, and pressed a button on the side. The cockpit closed of its own accord, and she pressed a second button. Immediately a shimmering bubble formed around the vessel. “Okay, let’s go.”
“What’s that?” her brother asked.
“Meteor shield,” Lucy answered matter-of-factly. “Also works real well to keep intruders out.”
“Oh, wow,” was his only response as he opened the door and Lucy walked into her past.
Or as far into it as she could, considering her circumstances. Mom and Pop were the first ones she recognized in the crowd, the people she’d turned to for guidance on all of the big things for as long as she could remember. She knew her brother, Bruce, of course, who’d moved over to stand beside a pretty brunette. His girlfriend? Half a dozen or so of her closest friends from Coverdale, an upscale community just across the Ohio River that helped make up the Greater Cincinnati area, were there, and a few less well-remembered faces, along with some she frankly didn’t know at all, the last group probably being those who just happened to be in the “right place at the right time.”
And Brandon Galway. She watched as he discreetly showed his wallet to a man trying to approach their group. As she hugged her mother, she saw the man walking away, frustration evident in his shoulders and gait.
Darla Grimes pushed her daughter away to arm’s length and held her there. “I didn’t understand any of this when I first heard about it,” she said meaningfully, “and I really don’t have a grip on it now. Hopefully, you can put this in perspective for me.”
“I’ll try, Mom. Really, I will.” She turned to her father. “Hi, Pop,” she said and delivered a lighter hug, knowing his feelings about public displays of affection.
“‘Hi, Pop?’ I want to be there when you explain to your mother just what you’ve gotten yourself into. And I guarantee you,” he said with a grin, “that I’ll have questions.” Her father was the total antithesis of her mother. Where Darla Robinson had grown up with June Cleaver as a role model, John Grimes was enamored of Albert Einstein and his ideas about the universe. Where Darla wanted to cushion and protect, John knew that learning life’s lessons had to come with at least a modicum of suffering, or the lessons wouldn’t stick. And his daughter didn’t seem any worse for her experiences. She moves with more assurance than I remember, he thought. And she stands straighter, too. Aloud, he said, “Go see your friends. This morning and afternoon are for them. But I want you to remember that dinner will be on the table promptly at seven. Understand?”
The First Captain of the Terran Alliance meekly said, “Yes, sir. And, Pop?”
“What?”
“Thanks.”
Lucy took a deep breath and waded into the group of well-wishers, friends and quasi-friends, knowing what was coming. Five minutes of hugs, handshakes, and one surreptitious pat on the butt later, the group began to break up.
As people drifted back to their vehicles, Lucy was left with a half dozen people—two friends she’d kept from grammar school, her parents, her brother, and Galway. The residents of a community as small as Coverdale (population hovering around seven thousand), tended to stay close for most of their lives unless someone moved away. The few who chose to move off into the great, big wonderful world were balanced by the folks who thought a small town was the perfect place to raise a family, so things never changed all that much.
“So, what do you guys want to do?” Lucy asked, knowing the answer ahead of time.
“Well,” Carmen LeBoy said, jumping in, “we want to know everything, of course.”
“But we thought we’d take you to Martello’s,” Amy Sparks said. “We got the back room, and the Pasta Primavera will be flowing freely.”
Lucy couldn’t remember a time when the three women hadn’t been friends. Thinking back to her first day of kindergarten, she remembered how glad she’d been glad of Carmen’s presence. Carmen claimed to remember even earlier.
“Martello’s! Guys, that’s too expensive!” Lucy started.
“No, it isn’t,” Amy said. “Remember, we all worked for Martello, and he’s just as anxious to see you as anyone else. When we asked to rent the back room, he wouldn’t hear of it. Said it was on him and started to prepare his Primavera.” Pasta Primavera on Martello’s menu was a treat. It was rarely advertised, and whoever happened to pick a night when it was being served considered themselves among the luckiest people in the Cincinnati area.
“Okay, guys, you’ve sold me,” Lucy said, remembering the nights when there was enough left over for the waitstaff to have some. “But let me talk to someone for just a sec, okay?”
She walked away without waiting for an answer, making her way to where Galway was leaning against a wall. On the way, she caught her father’s eye and motioned him over. “Hello, Brandon,” she said as her father arrived, an expectant look on his face. “I want you to meet my father, John Grimes. Pop, this is Brandon Galway. You have him to thank for helping put an end to your... troubles. Don’t blow a gasket, but he’s with the FBI. And as agents go, he’s one of the better ones. As a matter of fact, I think his job title is Special Assistant to the President of the United States. I think he’s more like a troubleshooter.”
A cloud passed over John Grimes’ face, but he finally put his hand out and said, “I guess I need to say thanks. If it was through your efforts that my wife and son were released, then I owe you.”
“No thanks are necessary, Mr. Grimes. You can think of it as payback to your daughter. I owed her. Besides, I don’t always agree with what my government does, and detaining you folks was wrong. Questioning you, I can u
nderstand. Hauling you in, no.”
Galway released Lucy’s fathers’ hand and turned to Lucy. “Commander Ross said you’ll be here for three days?”
“Yeah. Training schedules will be winding down by then, and I need to get the Norton out of orbit. Why? Are you going to be my babysitter while I’m here?”
“Just think of me as a facilitator, Lucy,” the agent said. “Go have fun. I’ll just be a ghost in the background, trying to see that you’re not disturbed.”
“Like you did with that guy a while ago?” she asked, smiling.
“Just a reporter,” Galway said, waving his hand dismissively. “When I tried to shoo him off, he showed me his press card and started spouting first amendment rights at me. I just showed him my badge and spouted jail terms back at him. He wasn’t too happy, but he left. Oh, by the way, do you really think it’s necessary to carry that?”
Lucy looked down at the pistol strapped to her thigh. “As long as I feel that our people are safer with them than without, yes. Besides,” she said leaning in toward Galway and her father, “it’s been rigged by our techies. It has a sensor that won’t let it fire for anybody but me. Something to do with our wristbands. Besides, as soon as I change my clothes, it’s gone. As an accessory, it doesn’t go with anything I’ve got except the uniform. I’ll see you at dinner, Pop.” Lucy spun on her heel and made a “move out” gesture toward the parking lot.
The three women headed toward the main entrance to the terminal, seemingly leaving all their worries behind. Most law enforcement agencies requested and received reports on a regular basis about celebrities and dignitaries who passed through their areas, and Lucy, thanks to Galway, was no exception. Most times, just a plainclothes officer or two were needed to deter annoyances, but in Lucy’s case, an extra level of care was being taken, and she was able to spot some, if not all, of it.
