Area 7 ss-2
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There was nothing the Chinese space shuttle could do.
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There were, quite simply, no defensive measures it could
employ up here.
The two AMRAAM's slammed into the Chinese ship at
exactly the same time--one hitting it in the middle, the other
in the nose.
The shuttle just cracked.
There was an instantaneous flash of blinding white light
and the Chinese shuttle spontaneously blew out into pieces
which, after the initial blast, just radiated outwards in a kind
of accentuated slow motion.
The Yellow Star would not be returning to Earth.
the echo men were still hammering on the cockpit
door as, under the instructions of the tied-up pilot, Schofield
enabled the X-38's automated re-entry procedures.
There was nothing the men from Echo Unit could do.
The cockpit door was three-inch-thick titanium. And
firing a gun through the five-inch-thick glass window didn't
look like a clever option.
Indeed, as the X-38 began its controlled descent out of
its orbit, hit the atmosphere and engaged its heat shields
against the 4,000°F temperatures outside, they could only
strap themselves back into their seats and hang on.
The shuttle rocketed downward under the autopilot. As it did so, Schofield watched the starfield above them slowly
fade away, replaced by a hazy purple aura, before suddenly,
brilliantly, they burst down into dazzling blue sky.
The orbiting X-38 had traveled eastward—but because
it hadn't actually been up that long, only about halfway
across Colorado. Looking down, and facing west now,
Schofield saw steel-gray mountains and lush green valleys.
Beyond them, on the curved horizon, he could see the
sandy-yellow Utah desert.
He looked at his watch.
10:36 a.m.
They hadn't been in orbit long at all. About twelve minutes,
in fact. Now, gliding downward at supersonic speed,
they'd be back in Utah in only a couple more.
Suddenly, the heads-up display came to life:
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SOURCE AIRFIELD BEACON DETECTED
AIRFIELD IDENTIFIED AS UNITED STATES AIR FORCE
SPECIAL AREA (RESTRICTED) 08
PROCEEDING TO SOURCE AIRFIELD
Area 8, Schofield thought.
No.
He didn't want to go there.
So far as he could see, the only way to end this challenge
once and for all was to get away from these bases with
the President and the Football.
But to do that, they needed the Football.
And the Football--whose interminable countdown still needed to be satisfied by 11:30--was last seen at Area 7, in
the hands of Seth Grimshaw.
Schofield turned to his captive shuttle pilot. "We need
to get to Area 7."
The X-38 descended rapidly, shooting westward, blasting
over the barren Utah desert.
It flew down toward Area 8, roaring through the air, but
as it came close, Schofield disengaged the autopilot and,
now flying the shuttle manually like a regular plane, he allowed
the shuttle to overshoot the base.
They covered the twenty miles to Area 7 in less than a
minute, and very soon, he saw the low mountain and the
cluster of hangars and buildings, and the elongated runway
in the sand. In the far distance, on the horizon, he saw the
wide expanse of Lake Powell, with its twisting network of
water-filled canyons.
He aimed for the runway, sweeping in low over the
buildings of Area 7. It ran from east to west, so he was coming
straight for it.
The X-38 boomed over the Area 7 complex, shaking its
walls, -before touching down perfectly on its black bitumen
runway.
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But it came in fast--very fast.
Which was why Schofield didn't see the two black Penetrator
helicopters sitting silently next to Area 7's hangars.
Didn't see one of them immediately power up and rise
into the air as soon as his tires had hit the tarmac.
the X-38 rocketed down the desert runway, its tires
smoking.
Schofield tried to rein in the speeding spacecraft, releasing
a brake parachute which fluttered to life behind it. The
shuttle began to slow.
When at last it had lost all its momentum, Schofield
flicked some switches, prepared to take her back to the main
hangar.
He never even got to turn the shuttle around.
For at the very moment that he brought it to a halt, he
saw the Penetrator helicopter swing menacingly into place
in front of him, hovering above the runway like an evil bird
of prey.
THE SPACE SHUTTLE AND THE WINGED ATTACK HELICOPTER
squared off like a pair of gunslingers on a Wild West
street--the shuttle on the runway, the Penetrator floating in
the air in front of it
Inside the shuttle's cockpit, Schofield yanked off his
helmet. The President did the same.
"Shit. What do we--?" the President asked.
Bang!
The cockpit door shuddered.
The men of Echo Unit were out of their seats and were
once again pounding on it.
Then suddenly the voice of the Penetrator's pilot came
in over the radio. It was one of Caesar Russell's 7th
Squadron men.
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"X-38, this is Air Force Penetrator. Be advised, we have
missile lock on you. Release the boy now."
Schofield spun to look at Kevin, thinking fast.
The world was closing in on them--the Penetrator outside,
the Echo men inside, missile lock ...
And then he saw the compartment sunk into the wall
beyond Kevin's seat.
He turned to the President. "Sir, could you help Kevin
get his suit off, please?"
The President did so while Schofield hit the talk button.
"Air Force Penetrator, what are your intentions?"
As he spoke, Schofield climbed over to the wall compartment
and yanked it open.
A sign on its door panel read: survival kit.
The Echo men continued to pound on the cockpit door.
"If you release the boy," the Penetrator pilot said, "we
leave you in peace."
"Yeah, right," Schofield muttered.
He was foraging frantically through the shuttle's survival
compartment. "Come on," he breathed, "there has to
be one in here. There always is ..."
Into his mike, however, he said, "And if we don't release
the boy?"
"Then we might just have to cut our losses and kill you
all."
It was then that Schofield found what he was looking for inside the compartment: a two-foot-long cylindrical metal tube that looked like a--
He grabbed it, snapped to look up--and found himself
looking out through the five-inch-thick glass window that
opened onto the rear section of the shuttle. On the other side
of the glass, aimed right at his face, was a pistol, held by one
of the Echo men!
With a flash of white light--and a silent bang--the pistol
> fired.
Schofield shut his eyes, waited for the bullet to crash
through the glass and enter his head.
Area 7 421
But the glass was too thick. The bullet just scratched the
surface and pinged away.
Schofield breathed again, raced back to his seat.
"Air Force Penetrator," he said as he climbed back into
his flight seat and started doing up his seat belts. "All right.
All right Listen. I also have the President here." As he
spoke, he indicated for the President to undo his belts.
"The President ..."
"That's right. I'm going to send him out with the boy.
I'm sure you won't mind that. Now, I have your word, you
won't fire on us if we send them out?"
"That's right."
"Okay," Schofield said,to Kevin and the President.
"When I release the hatch, I want you two to get as far away
from this shuttle as you can. All right?"
"Right," Kevin said.
"Right," the President nodded. "But what about you?"
Schofield pulled the hatch release lever.
With a sharp snap-whoosh! a small section of the shuttle's ceiling--the part directly above the tied-up shuttle pilot--
went catapulting high into the air, flying end over end.
A wide square of blue sky opened over the pilot.
"Just get as far away from this shuttle as you can,"
Schofield said. "I'll be joining you in a minute. I just have a
helicopter to kill."
IN THE SHIMMERING DESERT HEAT, TWO TINY FIGURES EMERGED
from the shuttle's cockpit hatch.
The President and Kevin.
The President still wore his orange flight suit, only now
he was helmetless. Kevin just wore the regular clothes he'd
been wearing underneath his oversized space suit.
The Penetrator loomed above them, its rotor wash shaking
the air.
A plastic rope ladder hung down from the shuttle's roof.
It had unrolled automatically when the escape hatch had
been jettisoned.
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The President and Kevin descended the ladder quickly,
under the watchful eye of the Penetrator's three crew members.
Then their feet touched the burning-hot tarmac and they
hurried away from the shuttle.
THE SHUTTLE'S COCKPIT, SCHOFIELD WAS
positioning the lap,
Waiting for Kevin and the President to get clear.
He exchanged a glance with the still-bound shuttle pilot.
"What're you looking at?" he said--
Zazzzzzz!
Without warning, a spray of brilliant orange sparks exploded
out from the door behind him.
Holy ...
The Echo men were using a blow torch to cut through
the door!
Must wait for the President and the boy to get clear ...
And then the Penetrator pilot's voice came through. "Thank you, X-38. I'm sorry for misleading you, but unfortunately you must now be destroyed. Good night."
Instantly, a Sidewinder missile shot out from the right
hand wing stub of the Penetrator, a smoke trail looping
through the air behind it. It zoomed downwards, heading
straight for the space shuttle's windshield.
The blow torch's sparks sprayed into the cockpit from behind,
Screw it, Schofield thought. Time to blow this joint.
And with that, he yanked on the ejection lever beside
his seat.
like a new year's eve firecracker shooting up into the
sky, Shane Schofield rocketed up into the air above the
grounded space shuttle, sitting on his flight seat.
He carved a perfectly straight vertical path into the air,
in the process creating a bizarre triangle between himself,
the space shuttle and the Penetrator helicopter.
And then everything happened at once.
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First, the Penetrator's missile slammed into the X-38
beneath Schofield, causing it and the Echo men inside it to
explode in a billowing blasting fireball.
For his part, Schofield shot high into the air above the
>with the flight > >
as he drew level with the Penetrator's shocked crew.
It was only then that the chopper's three crew members
survival kit onto his shoulder--as he flew upwards on the
ejection seat.
Only it wasn't just any old tube.
It was a rocket launcher.
A compact M-72 single-shot disposable rocket
launcher, supplied in the survival kit for astronauts who
crash-landed in enemy territory and needed some lightweight
but heavy-hitting firepower.
Hovering in the air in his ejection seat, high above the
billowing fireball that had been the X-38, Schofield jammed
his finger down on the rocket launcher's trigger.
Instantly, a streamlined warhead shoomed out from the
M-72 on his shoulder, streaking through the air at phenomenal
speed, heading straight for the Penetrator's cockpit.
The warhead smashed through the helicopter's glass
windshield and detonated violently. The walls of the attack
helicopter blasted outwards, the chopper just disintegrating
in midair.
It dropped out of the sky--a blazing, flaming wreck,
trailing a plume of thick black smoke--and crashed down
against the tarmac, shattering into pieces.
The final episode of the sequence was the inflating of
Schofield's parachute.
It blossomed to life above his ejection seat, lifting him
out of it. Then the parachute carried him safely back down
to earth, landing him gently on the runway a short way
from the twin flaming ruins of the space shuttle and the
Penetrator.
The President and Kevin rushed up to him.
"That was so cool!" Kevin gasped.
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Matthew Reilly
"Yes. Remind me never to point a loaded weapon at
you," the President said.
Schofield discarded his parachute, gazed back down the
runway toward the buildings of Area 7.
Area 7 ...
Strangely, the first thing he thought about was not the
Football nor the fate of the country.
It was Libby Gant.
He'd last seen her during their battle in the pit, when
Colonel Harper's Sinovirus grenade had gone off and they'd
been separated.
But then he saw the helicopter.
Saw the second Penetrator--Caesar and Logan's Penetrator--sitting
empty and abandoned outside the main
hangar complex.
"Caesar came back to Area 7 ..." Schofield said aloud.
"Why would he do that?"
It was then that he saw a figure emerge from the base of
the airfield's control tower, waving one arm weakly.
It was Book II.
schofield, kevin and the president met book at the
base of the tower.
Book II looked pale, weary. He wore a thick bandage
over a wound on his left bicep; the rest of the arm was held
in a makeshift sling.
"Scarecrow. Quick," he said, obviously still in pain.
"You better come and see this. Now."
AS THEY CLIMBED THE STAIRS OF THE CONTROL TOWER,
Schofield said, "When did Caesar come back to Area 7?"
"They landed only a few minutes before you did. They were all heading for that top door entrance when you guys arrived. I was looking after Janson up in the tower, and we saw the whole ejection-seat thing. Caesar and Logan watched it from the hangar entrance, but when you blasted their boys to kingdom come, they headed straight inside the
complex again."
"Caesar went back inside the complex. ... Why?"
Schofield said, thinking hard. Then he looked up. "Any word
from Gant?"
"No," Book II said. "I figured she was with you."
"We got separated when that Sinovirus grenade went
off before. She must still be inside the complex."
They arrived at the top level of the tower. Juliet Janson
lay slumped on a chair, a bandage over her bullet-wounded
shoulder, alive but very pale.
Beside her lay the Football.
"So what did you want me to see?" Schofield asked Book.
"This," Book II said, indicating one particular computer
screen. It was flashing:
LOCKDOWN PROTOCOL S.A.(R) 7A
FAILSAFE SYSTEM ENACTED
AUTH CODE: 7-3-468201103
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EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.
IF YOU DO NOT ENTER AN AUTHORIZED LOCKDOWN
EXTENSION OR TERMINATION CODE BY 1105 HOURS,
FACILITY SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE WILL BE ACTIVATED.
SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE DURATION: 10:00
MINUTES.
***************** warning * ******* * * * *****
Schofield looked at his watch.
It was 10:43.
Twenty-two minutes till the complex's thermonuclear
self-destruct mechanism was set in motion.
And they'd had no word from Gant ...
Shit.
"There's another thing," Book II said. "We've managed
to get the generators back on line, but the power's still very
low. We've been able to get a couple of systems back on,
some light systems, a few communication lines and the internal
broadcast system."
"And ... ?"
"Have a look at this."
Book II hit a switch, and one of the console monitors
blinked to life.
On it, Schofield saw the image of the control room
overlooking the main hangar.
And standing inside the heavily battered room, looking
directly into the camera as he had done on several occasions