“Do you want the pilot’s ass, or a shot at flying the plane?” Hana asked her.
Nicole smiled. “Can’t I have both?”
“Is he good?”
“He’s okay. It’s the plane that makes the difference. High-thrust, low mass, configured for combat maneuvering across the full spectrum of the operational envelope.”
“What are you thinking?”
“It’s where our own design philosophy might have gone if the Cold War relationships had lasted.”
“How so?”
“When the Soviet Union collapsed, so did the cutting-edge technological threat. Conceivably, an ongoing Washington-Moscow military rivalry could have pushed the potential theater of confrontation over the top of the atmosphere; we’d need vehicles that could actually fight in near-Earth space.”
“What, you figure this is an attempt to start the same kind of rivalry between us and the Hal?”
Nicole shrugged.
“You keep looking at the video, Nicole,” Canfield noted from her chair. “See anything we may have missed?”
A shake of the head, not so much a demurral really as an attempt to order her thoughts. “It’s the structure of the attack,” she said finally. “I can’t put a finger on it, but... I dunno, I guess it looks familiar. Feels familiar. But from nowhere I remember.”
The ComPlate inset in the table before Canfield beeped imperatively. The display was angled—and the surface of the table itself glossed—so that no one but Canfield could see who was calling. It was clear, though, from the set of her mouth that she wasn’t thrilled. She nodded her head, and a few seconds later, the doorway hissed open.
Nicole heard a gasp from Hana, but she herself wasn’t at all surprised when Amy Cobri strode in as though she owned the place.
Considering her father’s company had built the Constitution and could buy it, fully equipped and crewed, without suffering more than a minor and transitory financial strain, the kid probably had some justification.
Hobby didn’t bother masking his own reaction to her arrival. With a curt nod to Canfield, he excused himself and strode out to the Bridge, to find out no doubt who’d allowed Amy aboard and why he hadn’t been notified the moment she’d arrived. It didn’t help his mood that the alert call had gone to Canfield instead of him; she may be Director of Manned Space Flight and C-in-C Space Command, but this was his ship. He clearly didn’t like having his place usurped, as much, Nicole could see, as Amy enjoyed doing it.
“It’s my understanding,” Amy said without preamble, taking a seat opposite Canfield as though they were the only two present, “that Captain Shea is about to undergo a major duty reassignment.”
Canfield didn’t bat an eye, but the announcement brought Ramsey Sheridan straight up in his chair. On the corner of her vision, Nicole saw Hana react much the same way.
Canfield said nothing, which Amy decided to take as confirmation. She’d dressed corporate for the meeting, in a knee-length designer suit, with elegant gold earrings and a necklace of asteroidal crystal that Nicole knew cost more than the General earned in a year. Her hair was pulled back in a sweeping chignon intended to give her an air of maturity, but it really wasn’t needed. Even as a girl, when Nicole had first known her, she’d carried herself with an air of personal gravitas that compelled those around her to pay attention. Over the years, that natural talent had been shaped and honed to the point where Nicole couldn’t help thinking—sadly—that Amy had very much become her father’s child.
“Under the circumstances,” Amy went on, “I can’t think of a more devastating course of action.”
“To who?” Hana growled. Amy ignored her.
“My personnel,” Canfield replied easily. “My prerogative. My decision.”
“I’ve come to ask you to reconsider.”
Now Nicole cocked an eyebrow, very much impressed. The Amy she remembered would have gone ballistic, thumping the table with her demands. But Nicole also knew that couching her desire as a request was merely a convention; Amy fully expected to get her own way. She invariably did.
Again, Canfield said nothing, leaving the ball in the young woman’s court. Amy fielded it without missing a beat, raising Nicole’s estimation of her a notch higher.
“The Lamplighter Project has moved from a theoretical to a practical stage,” she said. “Captain Shea’s participation, as you well know from the briefing caches we’ve submitted, is essential to the project’s viability. In effect, without her there is no project. Yet, at this critical juncture, when she’s needed most at home, you propose to send her haring off across the galaxy.”
“What the hell are they talking about?” Hana demanded sotto voice in Nicole’s ear, but only got a terse shake of the head for an answer. Nicole hadn’t a clue and didn’t like it. The expression on her face hadn’t changed but Ramsey, who could see her straight on, as could Amy, spotted something in Nicole’s eyes that prompted him to try to relay a warning to his boss.
“I was assured,” Canfield said icily, “that an alternative would be found.”
“I was wrong.”
“That is unacceptable.”
Amy flumped back in her chair, body collapsing into a boneless slouch that totally undermined all her attempts to look and act grown-up—so totally teenage a gesture that Nicole, despite her growing fury, couldn’t help a sniff of amusement.
“Tough,” Amy said, flinging her hands into the air in a dismissive gesture. “What d’you want from me, anyway? I know Nicole and I have a history, okay? What happened, happened.”
The girl pushed herself up again, flinching neither from Canfield’s basilisk glare nor Nicole’s, almost as though daring them both to strike out at her, just to prove she could take the hit.
“I’m not exactly zipped at the turn of events either, okay? But I have put too much time and sweat into Lamplighter to simply flush it because of someone else’s attitude.”
“Hardly that, Ms. Cobri.”
“I have a green light, okay?” Amy was out of patience and didn’t bother hiding the fact, the offhand delivery of her line casual notification that the gloves were off, and all pretenses dropped. She’d walked through the door knowing the outcome. “From DARPA and NASA both, signed off on by the White House.”
She plucked a thin business envelope from an inside pocket of her jacket and slid it across the table. The letter barely made it halfway and Nicole reached out, taking a fast glance at the Executive monogram in the corner and the heavy wax seal on the back before handing it to Hana, who passed it on to Canfield.
“I need Nicole on Earth,” Amy said, throwing down her gauntlet. “By rights Nicole shouldn’t even have flown the Swiftstar test. She’s too valuable a commodity; the moment you had word of any threat, she should have been replaced.”
Hana leaned close by Nicole’s ear. “Nice of Her Highness to care,” she whispered, “or is it simply a guilty conscience?”
“If it’s not too much to ask,” Nicole broke in, ever so softly, “what exactly are we talking about here?”
Canfield didn’t give Amy the chance to answer as she pressed the letter flat on the table. “This is indeed an unqualified statement of support,” she said. “Which affirms your statement of Captain Shea’s value to the project. However, her actual assignment to Lamplighter—which, I point out, in no way guarantees her cooperation—is at my discretion.”
“That’s not what it says!”
“It’s how I choose to interpret it. I think you’ll find the specific phrasing sufficiently ambiguous to allow me that latitude.”
“Fine. I’ll come back with an order that can’t be questioned.”
“The Constitution’s already on the flight board. By the time you dock at Sutherland, much less return to Earth’s surface, she’ll be on her way. And unfortunately, people these days travel far faster than radio waves. You might persuade the Executive to launch a pursuit cutter to try to catch up, but I suspect the bureaucratic consensus will be to simply
wait ’til Captain Shea returns home. And cross your fingers, of course, that she does so safely.”
“You can’t do this. She’s not supposed to go anywhere!”
The room got very still. Nicole noticed that Hobby had returned, but was staying back by the door, out of immediate notice.
“And how is it, young lady,” Canfield said softly, “you know that?”
“We’re Cobris, we have sources.”
“Captain Shea,” Canfield said, in a voice that had gotten not a whit louder but which carried an air of implacable command, “would you and Dr. Murai excuse us a moment? Colonel Sheridan, Captain Hobby, if you please?”
It was the last thing Nicole wanted, far too much was being left unsaid and she didn’t at all like the turn the meeting had suddenly taken. But Canfield was just as clearly in no mood for argument. So Nicole took her cue from the two men and strode towards the doorway without even a glance at Amy.
Outside, she watched as both doors cycled shut and a couple of armed Marines stepped into place, while the display panel obligingly informed them that the room was fully screened from all forms of external monitoring.
“What the hell is this all about?” Hobby wondered.
Hana, characteristically, took the low road response. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and Canfield’ll rip the little bitch’s heart out. Or better yet”—her grin widened at the images—“the poor dear might slip on a conveniently wet patch of deck. Oops, she hit her head on the table, what a terrible accident, how tragic that a life of such youth and promise gets so suddenly cut short, tough break.”
Ramsey couldn’t help a snort of laughter, made worse because he was sipping coffee at the time. While he tried to keep from choking, an orderly offered Nicole a mug. To her surprise, it was tea, brewed the way she liked best.
“Any ideas, Captain?” Hobby asked.
“I wish, sir. This is a new one to me.”
“There’ve been a fair share of rumors about Lamplighter the past year or so,” Ramsey said. “Very ‘black’ project, very esoteric, totally off the books. No mainstream, public sector funding as I recall, pretty much a private, in-house operation, and a sidebar one at that. The scuttlebutt consensus was that it was something Amy was doing to amuse herself. That’s why nobody paid much attention.”
“How come you know so much, Ramsey?”
Sheridan shrugged, “Cobris ain’t the only folks with sources, Bill.”
“What d’you figure’s going on in there, Colonel?”
“For truth, Nicole? Hana’s fervent yearnings notwithstanding, I suspect the boss is cutting a deal.”
“If the kid gets her way,” Nicole said, with an implacable strength to her voice that was eerily reminiscent of Canfield, “the minute I set foot on the ground, her precious Lamplighter’s dust. I’ll resign my commission before I become a part of it.”
“Relax, Nicole,” Sheridan told her gently. “You box yourself away from your options, you’ll find yourself with no choice but to go nuclear. Is that what you want?”
“What I want, Colonel, is that family out of my face.”
“I’m afraid, Captain,” Canfield said from the doorway, which had cycled open unnoticed behind them, “in that regard, you’re somewhat doomed to disappointment.”
Amy was with her, but the young girl didn’t look especially triumphant. There was an eerie mingling of child and woman, and a haunted shadow to her countenance that reminded Nicole of what she occasionally saw reflected in her own. Any other time, she’d have felt sorry for the girl; today, she couldn’t care less. The more misery, the better.
“Captain Shea flies this mission, that’s final. Yet Ms. Cobri is equally adamant about proceeding apace with Lamplighter. After exploring various options, we believe we have arrived at a mutually acceptable solution. She’ll continue working on the project aboard Constitution. You’ll have a full list of her requirements before departure, Captain.”
“Do I have a say in this, General?” Hobby asked, before Nicole could ask the same question, in a far less rational tone of voice. Her temper was flaring like a solar storm and it took an effort to hold on.
Canfield allowed herself a small sigh. “If you insist, Bill.” Clearly, she’d rather he didn’t. And he got the message. Nicole sensed the same restriction applied to her, and followed the Captain’s lead, even though what she really wanted to do was scream, or better yet punch Amy’s lights out.
“Ramsey,” Canfield said, “I have a job for you.”
“You had that look, boss. This is a good news/bad news joke, am I right?”
His tone was light and bantering, intended to ease the mood. Only Canfield smiled in response and that was a tiny one.
“I want you to oversee Lamplighter as Project Manager. You have authority over all phases of the operation. You review everything. Your decision’s final.” She looked to Amy. “Those terms are non-negotiable.”
Amy nodded. Nicole knew she figured that when the time came she’d find a way around the restrictions and Ramsey.
“I didn’t pack,” Ramsey said to Hobby.
“We’ll find you something, ol’ buddy, not to worry.”
“You’d better explain this to my wife, boss.”
Now, Canfield permitted herself a genuine smile. “Your wife, Ramsey, the President, and Emmanuel Cobri. All things considered, gentlemen and ladies, I think I’d much rather be flying with you. Godspeed, Bill,” she said, holding out her hand. Her parting words were ostensibly for them all, but when she spoke she looked straight at Nicole.
“Come home soon, and safe.”
* * *
CHAPTER FIVE
The touch of water changes that assumption. She comes instantly awake, fighting the drowsy residue of her nap as she takes stock of scene and situation. Both are dire. When she came to the beach, there was land in every direction; now, it’s mostly water. Even as she looks around, a fresh wave sends its upflow swirling over her rock, covering her to her ankles. The backwater leaves the rock exposed, but she knows that won’t last much longer. She leaps shoreward, and finds herself immersed almost to her belly. Each surge pushes her inland, but it also lifts her feet from the ground, leaving her floundering helplessly to keep her head above water and make further progress. Worse, the outflow wipes away any gain. And the longer this takes, the deeper the water grows about her. Her eyes open wide, with exertion and an atavistic terror she defiantly refuses to acknowledge, and she redoubles her efforts, with the same fierce, indomitable determination that allowed her to stand up to the family Elders.
“What’ll you need, young lady?” Hobby asked Amy as Sheridan and Canfield stepped out of earshot and Nicole simply glared—at the ceiling and the stars, at the people around her, anywhere but towards Amy Cobri. “Can your equipment be transshipped up from Earth?”
Amy grinned personably, as deliberate and calculated a response as Hobby’s choice of words. She could charm with the best if that helped her get her own way. She didn’t mind if people knew what she was doing, either, it made the challenge that much more delicious.
“Isn’t any, Captain, not in the sense you mean. I can facsimile what hardware I need from your own stores. The key to Lamplighter is the design schematics and the software. Those, I carry with me. As far as I’m concerned, you can rock and roll when you like.”
Hobby turned quickly to Canfield.
“In that case, General,” he said, “I’d like to launch through our original window.”
She nodded.
“Approved, Captain. Light up the Runway as soon as my shuttle’s clear.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Canfield stepped close to Nicole, and the others obligingly shifted away to give them some privacy. Nicole wanted to go herself, but there were some things Captains simply did not do to full Generals, regardless of the perceived provocation.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” Canfield began softly. “Quite.”
“I’ve no reason to complain, sir. I�
��m getting my Ride.”
“For a whole host of reasons, Nicole”—fractional pause, acting as a bridge for Canfield’s thoughts and a break between them—“I wish I were going with you.”
Nicole paused herself before answering, letting her gaze roam the room, almost as though she were the one about to take her leave, trying desperately to imprint the scene on her memory.
“Actually,” she conceded, a little surprised with herself at how she felt, “so do I.”
“Bill Hobby’s a good man and a good Commander.”
“Don’t doubt it. Was that what the poker game was all about?”
“More to do with the Swiftstar test, actually. You have a certain... reputation. And this is Bill’s ship. He’d read the reports, he wanted to see for himself what kind of officer he’d be dealing with before making a final decision.”
“That was only for a visit. Now he’s stuck with me.”
Canfield nodded.
“I don’t blame him for being gun-shy,” Nicole continued, “it’s how I feel. The Air Force teaches you how to play well with others, General, but not this many. I mean, Wanderer had a crew of seven, and since I’ve been at Edwards, I’ve worked pretty much on my own. It won’t be like that here.”
“No, it won’t. If you’re that concerned, Captain, come with me. You have that option up to the moment I leave.”
Nicole faced her. “You don’t think I can hack this?”
“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. But I’ve always respected your judgment, Nicole. You accepted being grounded because you knew the Medical Evaluations Board was right; at that time, you were unfit for astronaut’s flight status. Afterward, though, when you’d won back your wings, you never pushed as hard as you could have for a starship assignment. You asked, but you didn’t seem to mind being turned down. I had to wonder about that.”
“I guess I was... comfortable where I was.”
“I have no use for comfortable officers, Captain. Nor for those who are afraid of their own potential.”
Sundowner Page 10
