Space Above and Beyond 2 - Demolition Winter - Peter Telep

by Peter Telep

  "I know," Cooper said, then he sat up and removed his headphones. He eyed the others, noting that they appeared to be sleeping but were probably still awake. "Just keep it down."

  Dropping his voice to a whisper, Teddy continued. "Will you help me?"

  "Oh, no. What are you thinking?"

  "Offer to carry the T-140 radio for Lieutenant Wang. Instead of hardwiring myself to it, I'll hardwire my reconfigured comlink to myself so that I can send a signal to the radio, which will in turn pass the signal on to the silicates. I just need to work on the T-140 for a few minutes."

  Cooper was shaking his head before Teddy even finished. "Wang will never go for it. He'll suspect something."

  "As you may have already observed, my memory contains very little data regarding the art of persuasion. I cannot advise you on how to convince Lieutenant Wang. I can only say that you must."

  While he certainly wasn't a trial attorney, Teddy did know how to make his voice sound emphatic. Too emphatic, in fact. Something tingled in Cooper's gut, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, Shane was right about the silicate. "I know that we've already had this conversation, Teddy, but I wanna tell you something." He let his next words come out slowly for effect. "If I help you, and you turn around and double-cross me, I'll bash your head against a rock until there's nothing left of it. Can you picture that?"

  "I understand your dilemma, Lieutenant. I will either help save your life or put a quick end to it. All I can do is remind you that you said you would trust me. Completely. Do that now, and you won't regret it." Rubbing a hand over the stubble on his cheek, Cooper stared into nothingness and let out a long breath. He was struck by the sudden mental image of everyone in the squadron being gunned down by the silicates, and then he saw Shane, writhing in the bloodstained snow. With her last dying breath, she told Cooper that he was to blame. Then, suddenly, a pistol appeared in her hand, and she took aim at Cooper's face and fired. With skin crawling and the crack of Shane's weapon echoing in his ears, Cooper blinked away the image and faced Teddy. "Let me think about it."

  The silicate consulted his watch phone. "Remember our timetable."

  He nodded, wishing to say something to the silicate about not wanting to hurt his feelings, but Cooper wasn't sure if Teddy actually had feelings to hurt. The silicate spoke and reacted like he did, but he was still an A.I.

  "The enemy wears many faces. Look at this one. And know the truth," Teddy said, pointing at himself.

  "All right, I'll do it," Cooper said, instantly regretting the words but deciding it was too late. "I'll take a chance."

  "I wish you wouldn't allude to Dr. Stranahan. If he hadn't inserted his 'Take A Chance' virus into our CPU, then the A.I. rebellion would have never occurred, and many lives, both human and silicate, would have been spared."

  "Bad choice of words," Cooper said. "Sorry."

  Teddy acknowledged the apology with a nod and continued. "While the idea of risk is nearly a religion to many of my counterparts, my new programming has put that concept into perspective. I prefer calculated risks, and your agreeing to help me decreases the risk factor."

  "I still don't know how I'm going to talk Wang out of that radio," he said, his voice weighted with doubt.

  Rising, Teddy said, "I have complete faith in you, Lieutenant, Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make two more Short Range Radar sweeps." He headed off to the far side of the ledge.

  After watching him leave, Cooper packed away his CD player, a tad relieved that he wouldn't have to confront Shane about it just yet. He looked over at Wang. The lieutenant leaned back against his sleeping bag, his eyes closed, his head pillowed in his hands. Beside him was his rucksack, and attached to it was the T-140 radio.

  It dawned on Cooper that if he were good, he could unclip the radio from Wang's pack without the lieutenant even knowing about it. And if he were better than good, he could get the radio to Teddy, who could do his little rewiring trick, then get it back to Wang, thus avoiding the whole awkward conversation.

  Crossing cautiously to Wang, Cooper squatted next to the Marine's rucksack. The T-140 was about the size of a notebook computer and bound by two straps. Cooper unbuckled the first strap.

  "What are you doin', Coop?" Damphousse asked. She had been sleeping, or at least Cooper thought she had, just behind Wang.

  He flashed her a look of mock anger, put a finger to his lips, then finished unbuckling the second strap.

  She sat up and eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you taking the radio?"

  His finger went back up to his lips as he circled around Wang to hunker down near her. "Before inserting on planet, I got these compartmentalized orders that say I gotta make sure that anything Teddy wants he gets. Commodore Ross knew Shane and Wang would never carry out those orders, so he gave them to me. Teddy needs the radio. I'm only following the orders. If Shane finds out I'm doing this, she'll freak. But I gotta do it. Will you keep it quiet for me?"

  "Do you trust Teddy?" she asked. "I mean really trust him?"

  "I guess I don't trust anybody. I just make 'em believe I do. And don't worry. If Teddy screws us, I'll be ready."

  "And I guess I'll have to be now, too, huh?"

  "Just don't say anything. Okay?"

  Her gaze was white-hot. "I'll be watching you. And him," she promised.

  "Thanks, 'Phousse."

  Barring Vanessa's unexpected questioning, the rest of the plan went off without a hitch. The real problem was that Cooper wasted nearly all of his precious hour of sleep on the operation, and, with only four minutes left until prep time, he decided that if he closed his eyes he would never want to wake up. So, with the resignation he had often felt after an all-night drinking binge, he stayed awake to recheck his gear.

  Naturally, Shane was the first to awaken, and she eyed him with surprise. "You should've slept."

  "I know."

  She covered a yawn, then rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "We've lived enough of our lives, huh?"

  "Maybe you think you have, but my six years ain't squat," he told her seriously. "I'm gonna finish my sentence in the Corps, and when I get out, I'm gonna buy a motorcycle and drive it across the U.S."

  "It's weird. But I have this feeling that your six years feels exactly like my whole life. Six years. Six minutes. What's the difference? Maybe you're right. Maybe we'll never live enough of our lives."

  "Did I say that? 'Cause I ain't sure what the hell it means." He gave her a slight smile.

  And then she got to her feet. "All right! Everybody up. This ain't Aspen, and we don't got lift tickets."

  "We definitely know that," Nathan said with a hand to his head as if he had a headache.

  "Fifteen mikes for mission prep," Shane reminded. "Set new channel for comlinks to A27 and encrypt Y-Alpha. Wang, get off the second com balloon."

  "Aye-aye," the lieutenant said.

  During the prep, tension crackled worse than static electricity, and Cooper could not remember feeling more insecure about an Op. He found himself checking gear he had already examined four times prior, and he was also nagged to check everyone else's equipment at least as many times.

  "We all look so nervous that you'd think we were getting married," Damphousse observed.

  "Hey, you wanna, 'Phousse?" Cooper asked.

  "Don't do it, Hawkes," Nathan warned jokingly. "She'll own you more than even the Corps does."

  "How would you know?" Shane asked Nathan. "You don't have any marriage experience."

  "No. But I do have a battle-scarred father with a head full of stories."

  "Sorry, 'Phousse," Cooper said. "But I think I've changed my mind."

  She tsked. "Left at the altar. How could you be so cruel?"

  "Sorry, baby, but I'm a soldier," he said in a tone so cocky that it resulted in hoots from the others.

  Joking before a big Op sometimes put him at ease, but as Cooper's smile faded, he realized that he felt just as anxious as before. Maybe that was good. His reflexes would be as sharp
as his K-bar.

  Although Shane tried to contact the Saratoga to notify Colonel McQueen of their projected rendezvous time with the ship, the only signal coming back from the com balloon was its locator beacon. It didn't matter whether that was due to solar activity, a chemical, or God's foul mood, the end result was the same. They would be heading back to the Saratoga without prior warning. Not a huge problem, but dropping in unexpectedly on a massive, heavily armed naval carrier would quicken Cooper's pulse. Identification beacons or not, he knew there was still an outside chance that a Hammerhead pilot out to rack up a quick kill might fire prematurely upon the tankers.

  Once Teddy made his SRR sweep and signaled all clear, they left the ledge, and, employing every maneuver they knew to conceal their advance, they skulked back to the scene of the avalanche. From there, Kyoko and Nathan headed for the east mountain supporting the aqueduct. Shane's team would follow that path through the talus and scree below the west mountain that Wang had spoken about, while Cooper would climb the same mountain to establish a sniper's nest that overlooked the bridgeway.

  Trying to break into a sprint but managing only a jog, Cooper left Shane's team behind. He picked a path that would take him along a wide arc that terminated on the southwest side of the mountain. A relatively steep and narrow cleft, one that had a particular name Cooper had learned in climbing class but had forgotten, extended up the face of the mountain and grew narrower into a chimney as it did so. He determined that the cleft would conceal his ascent from the Chig sentries posted atop the duct, and, feeling good about that, he increased his pace. Or at least he tried to.

  At probably a quarter klick away from bottom of the gully, he heard the unwelcome whine of thrusters igniting. The sound came from the airfield on the other side of the mountain, and the still, cold air helped deliver it too readily. Cooper decided that he would rather not know about a Chig bird in the air. I got enough crap to worry about, he thought.

  But he had to alert the others. Between breaths he managed, "This is Silver Bullet Three—"

  "We know all about it, Hawkes," Shane said curtly. "Maintain CS until further notice."

  "Aye-aye."

  If the Chigs aboard that fighter ran low-level scans, they would probably detect the five-eight's encrypted communications despite the signals being short range and ultra-low frequency. And Cooper was glad for the radio silence anyway. Hearing the controlled terror of the others would only make him more tense.

  Fighting against the thirty-degree incline and trying to stay hunched over, he groaned and swore and stomped his way up into the beginnings of the cleft. The second he was concealed by the rock face, he straightened and stopped to catch his breath. They say that vacuum is very cold, Cooper thought. Not as cold as this damned air. Each time he inhaled, his lungs burned. After a few seconds of pained breathing, he fished out a small tube of balm and applied it to his lips. Then he took a seat on a nearby stone and changed into his climbing shoes. While his boots had also been designed for the same purpose, he preferred the lighter, more flexible shoes. Or at least he had back in the training class. That done, he stood and craned his neck back for a look. The pitch was predominantly rock, but snow and ice had accumulated in some of the larger ledges. As he continued to inspect the route, he thought hard about what the instructor had told him:

  "Climbing cracks and chimneys tends to be a less natural process for most Marines than standard face climbing. Progress is made not by stepping on a projection and pushing the body up but by utilizing crosspressure between different parts of the body to obtain proper adherence to the rock. Counterforce or opposition holds are the best way to ascend a tight cleft."

  That all had sounded well and good to Cooper, but presently it didn't seem to be worth much. It wasn't as if the knowledge was going to slow his pulse or get rid of that Chig fighter he could still hear making passes above the duct. Yes, it would come in handy somewhere along the pitch, but he probably would have figured out a way to get up the mountain without wasting a day in class. He had never been much for theory; he was a practice kind of guy.

  So he drew in a long, slow breath which made him wince, then he found a good hand hold and began his ascent.

  The gully was about fifty feet wide at bottom, and Cooper judged that it didn't narrow to chimney width (under five feet for him) until about 175 feet up. Placing temporary anchors and then clipping himself in would slow him down a little, but he figured that once he reached the chimney, he would establish a self-belay and ascend the remaining thirty or forty feet using only cling and outside holds, all of which was to say he would climb the damned mountain, hanging on for dear life.

  When the ground looked just a little too far down for comfort, he placed his first anchor, slid the coil of rope off his shoulder, then proceeded to clip himself in. There were plenty of knobs he used as both hand and foot holds, and he mentally patted himself on the back for the rapid progress he was making.

  But even as he was doing so, the fingers of his right hand, which he had jammed into a crack for support, suddenly slipped out, causing him to turn violently right. Then his shoes came free, leaving him holding on with a single gloved hand.

  Shane's voice came abruptly over the link. "The Chig fighter has returned to base. Break CS. Hawkes. Report."

  He shoved his fingers back into the original crack, but they slipped out again. Frantically, he searched along the rock wall for another hold, wishing he could unbuckle his heavy pack and abandon it.

  "Hawkes? Report."

  "Uh, I'm little busy right now," he managed between gasps.

  Then he found it, a small, horizontal crack at shoulder height. He got a hold on it, then transferred his weight to his right hand.

  And that's when a chunk of rock below the crack broke off in his hand, sending him plunging headfirst toward the surface.

  With the blood rushing to his head, he saw his temporary anchor race up past him, and below the anchor, his line ripped through the carabiner clip. Reflexively, Cooper reached out and seized the line, braking himself slowly at first, then applying more pressure and feeling the fire of friction begin in his gloves. Then he gripped both sides of the line and came to an agonizing halt. He released a scream and let himself be whipped around upright; it felt as if someone had driven K-bars into his biceps. He thrust a shoe forward and found a hold, then he released a hand on the line and latched onto a cold, brown knob, swallowing deeply as he did so.

  Were Shane with him, he knew she would be hollering over his careless judgment and for wasting a lot of time by slipping. But she wasn't around, so he cursed at himself for the error. Still, having saved himself from either broken bones or death was something to be proud of.

  But this time he would skip the pat on the back.

  With a growing soreness in his arms and shoulders and a renewed respect for Bulldog's gravity, Cooper returned to the pitch, determined to make up for lost time.

  It wasn't until the walls of the crevice had narrowed to about ten feet that he actually noticed he was nearing the chimney. And it was only a matter of minutes until he was able to use small ledge holds for his feet and pressure holds for his back and arms. He set up another temporary anchor, pulled up his rope, then reclipped himself back into the mountain. He knew there were many kinds of jams and chimneying techniques, and though he actually recalled a few of them, it seemed more logical to let the chimney itself dictate the climb. He called it his go-with-the-flow technique.

  Yet before proceeding further, he decided to check back in with Shane. "Silver Bullet One, copy?"

  "Copy. In position yet?" Shane asked.

  "Almost."

  "Good. We're about halfway around the mountain. Let me know when you're set."

  "Won't be long. Three out."

  And as he had promised Shane, it wasn't long until the chimney became too narrow and he had to emerge from it and begin to sidle the mountain. The more easily climbable rock gave way to a combination of rock, ice, and snow, and he di
d all he could to stick to the rock and avoid the latter two surfaces, though twice he had to kick foot holds into the snow; thankfully, the holds supported his weight.

  Within a few mikes he came into view of the aqueduct, a mere seventy feet below and to his left. The first time he had seen the facility, he had been utterly awed by its immensity. And then he had been under the aqueduct when the squadron had gone after Nathan, and he had gaped at the thing, unable to comprehend how the Chigs had managed to build it on such an inhospitable world.

  But now as he set two temporary anchors into cracks on either side of him, then clipped himself to the anchors, he came to the conclusion that marveling over Chig know-how only made him fear the enemy more.

  And more fear he didn't need, for the move he was about to perform would either put him in position or get him killed. Presently, he faced the rock and had to peer over his shoulder at the duct. He passed one leg over the other, searched blindly for a foot hold, and felt one. Holding his breath, he whirled around and lost his balance for a millisecond, but the rope binding him to the wall helped him recover. Now he faced forward, his heels dug firmly into tiny ledges, his hands free. He reached back and unclipped his M-590 from his pack. After inspecting the rifle and attaching the silencer, he raised it and peered through the Night Vision Sight.

  A dozen guards, both Chig and silicate, were spaced evenly at about four hundred feet apart, standing on alternating sides of the bridgeway. They were armed with automatic weapons, and their attention was focused outward as if they expected an attack from the northern or southern slopes. Cooper seriously doubted that he would be able to drop all of them, quietly or otherwise. Accomplishing that would require about twelve seconds, ample time for Chig or silicate number ten or eleven to raise its weapon and return fire. Cooper figured that if he could drop the four nearest him, that might provide Shane's team with an open window to bolt for the hatch.