Redemption Protocol (Contact) (27 page)
“Are those what I think they are?”
Havoc nodded.
“They’re for you.”
He moved through into the cockpit. There were four seat positions in the front row with the center two set forward of the side seats. Havoc had removed the outer right seat so that he could lock in directly. He scraped forward and gestured to the center right seat, traditionally taken by the pilot.
“So, Skip, you taking her out?”
Stone clambered round.
“Sure am.”
Novosa squeezed after Stone and sat down next to him. Perfect.
Havoc gestured for Weaver to go ahead. Weaver didn’t make any attempt to mask her disapproval as she wriggled past – Havoc’s suit was massive in the confined space.
“That’s not very practical, is it?”
Havoc glanced down at his suit.
“It depends what you’re trying to do.”
“And what are you trying to do?”
He watched her wriggling into her seat.
“Trying to keep your cute butt alive.”
She glared back at him.
“Don’t you talk about my butt.”
Havoc moved to the rear of the cockpit.
“Before we leave, does anyone have an objection to me hard disabling the shuttle’s remote control facility? Given our potential saboteur and what happened to Marsac?”
Weaver and Novosa looked at him warily. Havoc pointed at the cabinet.
“Just the remote control facility. And I'm asking your permission. Take a minute if you’d like.”
Stone twirled a hand above his head without turning.
“Sure, do it.”
The others thought about it and nodded.
Havoc opened the panel and removed the breaker. He held it out as he locked his suit into place behind and right of Stone.
“It's done.”
Weaver frowned at him.
“You really don't trust anyone, do you?”
Havoc tapped Stone’s seat.
“Ok, Skip.”
Stone flexed his hands over the instrumentation like a pianist about to unleash a concerto.
“Ok.”
Havoc waited.
There was a pause.
Novosa turned to Stone.
“Is everything ok, Bob?”
Stone was unflappable under his eyewear. He laughed.
“Sure.”
> I thought you wanted to.
> I don't know how to fly, Havoc!
> Aaahh.
Havoc thought for a moment.
> Ok, first you need to release. Third up, fourth left.
Stone moved his hand up over the dash. Havoc gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Stone moved his hand one button left. Havoc gave a tiny nod.
Stone hit the button and various clamps and attachments released from around the shuttle.
“Ok, movin' out.”
Havoc closed the vehicle doors. He could fly the vehicle via cast without touching a button, though expert pilots preferred the feedback of the physical controls.
> Ok, hands on the sticks, feet on the pedals.
Stone assumed the position and Havoc guided the shuttle across the hangar. Stone smiled as they transitioned the lock and launched into space.
“Relax and enjoy the ride, ladies.”
> Make me look good.
> Tell them to hold on.
“Hold on, ladies.”
Havoc looped the shuttle over; accelerating and turning toward Plash. At the same time he rolled slowly right and, in classic Fighter Jock style, gently played out the left attachment on Novosa's harness. As they looped over, Novosa gradually leaned into Stone until their faces were practically touching. Stone spoke from behind his shades as the stunning vista of Plash and the binary system passed in front of them.
“Hi.”
Novosa gazed at him, wide eyed.
“Hi.”
39.
Havoc caught Weaver looking at him from the left hand seat. She rolled her eyes. Caught, he thought. He gestured with his hands: harmless fun. Weaver turned to look out the opposite window, but Havoc fancied he’d caught a ghost of a smile as he checked their position.
“Ok, Skip, I'm prepping for package release.”
The grin on Stone’s face was transcendental.
“Ok.”
“Deploying now.”
Satellites and orbital platforms rolled out behind the shuttle, glinting in the refracted light like a high technology rainbow. The rainbow dispersed as the packages jetted to perfect their orbital positions. As well as ship gear, Havoc had also launched his own satellites, dropkits, sky lance kinetic platform and SLAM launcher. He expected some criticism from Weaver, given her pacifist tendencies, but perhaps she didn't recognize the weapon systems. The other civilizations would, of course – these platforms were active and would be detected by the other visitors on arrival.
What they hoped wouldn’t be immediately detected were the sleeper platforms that Yamamoto and Tyburn had already launched at ambient temperature. Tyburn had been keen to get this done, getting involved to a level that had left Yamamoto bristling.
“Wow,” Stone said.
The bronze globe of Plash filled the lower viewscreen as the shuttle rolled back into a stable orientation. Swirling weather systems collided in the atmosphere, their interleaving wave fronts clawing at each other. The distant horizon, where the atmosphere heated by Jötunn collided with the cooler atmosphere of the dark side, was a spectacular ribbon of fiery white gold. Weaver’s voice was full of excitement.
“It looks spectacular.”
“Shall we drop into the atmosphere, Skip?”
Stone nodded, almost forgetting it was him who was supposed to be flying.
“Sure.”
Havoc dived the shuttle toward Plash. They dropped through the exosphere and into the swirling aurora and halos of the upper thermosphere.
“I wonder if this will cause any reaction from the planet,” Novosa said.
“I've got goosebumps all over my body,” Stone said.
Havoc smiled. He dropped the shuttle further as Weaver released sensors into the atmosphere. The plan was to fly over several locations of interest and evaluate the atmosphere before returning to the ship. Havoc was about to change all that.
> Tell them to hang on.
> Eh?
> Tell them.
“Er, hang on girls.”
“What?”
“Whaaaaaaa!”
Havoc dropped the nose and they plummeted through the stratosphere.
Stone threw his hands up as he cried out.
“Wah!”
“Shall I take her now, Skip?”
“Yes. Yes. Take her.”
Weaver tried to take control but Havoc locked her out. She spun to face him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Ok. I have her. Nice flying, Skip.”
The shuttle was battered violently as they tore through weather systems and cloud strata, bursting through clouds tinged with copper and gold. Weaver glared at him.
“I asked you what you’re doing?”
He glanced at her as the vibration in the cabin built to a high pitched whine.
“You think we can just dip a toe in here, Weaver? We can't. Half of us are dying. We need to act. Take some risks.”
“You made that decision for us?”
“Yes.”
Stone croaked with his teeth clenched together as he rattled in his seat.
“Cool.”
Weaver shook her head in exasperation as Tyburn's voice came through the shuttle radio.
“Shuttle One, are you ok?”
“Yes,” Havoc replied.
“Then return to the upper atmosphere immediately.”
The cabin shook as they plunged downward.
“Negative, Tyburn, no can do. We have a minor fluidics issue.”
The shuttle juddered as they hit severe turbulence. Stone shrieked. Havoc sensed
Intrepid
attempting to take remote control.
“What’s your issue?” Tyburn said.
“It’s under control. We’re near the surface, so we’re going to take a look. We’ll report back shortly.”
Whittenhorn’s tone was abrupt.
“Return to orbit immediately.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr Whittenhorn.”
Havoc’s crewmates whipped round to look at him. Perhaps he’d been a tad melodramatic.
“Yet. I can’t do that yet.”
Whittenhorn also took a dim view.
“This is insubordination, Havoc.”
“I’ll explain on our return, Mr Whittenhorn.”
“It’s Commander Whittenhorn and for the record I’m ordering you to return to orbit.”
“Understood, Commander. For the record, I should note that this is solely my decision. I have locked the others out.”
“We’ll talk about this.”
Whittenhorn cut the connection before Havoc could respond.
Novosa gestured sideways.
“We’re conning.”
No shit, Havoc thought, as he saw the huge vapor trails the shuttle was leaving in its wake. He reduced their angle of attack and the buffeting rattle settled to a steady vibration.
Stone rubbed his forehead.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Weaver scarcely seemed to believe it was happening. She leaned toward him with her eyes blazing, clearly furious.
“You are the most irresponsible, unreliable, capricious––”
They burst out of a giant amber cloud and swooped down between two massive hyperboloid crystalline towers that had lightning crackling around them. The extruded hourglass structures were staggering in scale; so large that they generated their own weather. A long vapor trail streamed out behind the speck of the shuttle and up into the cloud, scribing their curving arc through the atmosphere.
Weaver’s mouth hung open. Havoc glanced sideways.
“You were saying?”
Novosa pointed ahead.
“Oh my God. What’s that?”
Weaver turned back to the front.
“Wow,” she said, hopelessly distracted.
40.
Havoc stared in awe at the gigantic terracotta towers that rose before them from a broad depression on the surface of Plash. The towers were distributed in a haphazard pattern, separated by wide avenues and plazas, and grew in height as they ranged toward the highest tower at the center – the Colosseum that he’d seen in the ship briefing.
Most of the towers had no roofs and were empty inside. The tower walls had the appearance of red sandstone, but must have been constructed of something far stronger to withstand such ferocious weather. The staggering scale of the structures unfolded as they flew toward them. They were embellished with arches, slits, decorative pillars and occasional flat platforms that passed through to the inside. In addition, the walls were covered – blanketed even – by a sea of hieroglyphics; ideograms, diagrams, script and symbols of all manner and description.
“Touvenay’s going to love this,” Weaver murmured.
Touvenay replied from orbit.
“I am bewitched.”
Havoc smiled.
As they flew over the outer towers they could see ramps that spiraled down inside the walls. Inside some of the shorter towers, the ledges spiraled inward as they progressed downward, ending in circular areas that gave the structures the appearance of ancient amphitheaters.
Havoc struggled to maintain their heading as the shuttle was punched sideways in the brutal crosswinds.
“Get ready to drop some probes.”
“Ready,” Weaver said.
The shuttle shot upward in a vertical wind shear. The flying conditions were hellish. Weaver dropped a probe and sensors burst outward as it spiraled away behind them.
“I'm going to drop another to make sure.”
Havoc nodded.
“Good idea. You alright there, Stone?”
Stone clung onto his chair, clearly petrified under his shades. He emitted a peculiar grunt. Havoc concentrated on maintaining steerage in the turbulence.
“It’s a little rough. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
Novosa pointed at the viewscreen.
“What's that?”
Havoc followed the track of Novosa’s finger.
Adjacent to the Colosseum was a triangular plaza and near its center was a slender three-sided minaret. Despite being three hundred meters tall, the minaret was dwarfed by the Colosseum looming over it. The needle-like structure was situated on the lip of a deep crater that occupied the center of the plaza. The minaret's white surface was in striking contrast to its darker surroundings and the twilight of the shadow side of Plash only amplified the effect.