Then he just strode forward to the cockpit, speaking
into his intercom as he did so: "All personnel, prepare for
separation from the launch vehicle in thirty seconds"
The cockpit door slid firmly shut behind the pilot, sealing
it off, and Schofield was left standing in the middle of
the cabin, staring at the closed pressure hatch in the floor beneath
him.
Holy shit ... .
They were about to go into orbit.
With the president behind him, Schofield made his way
forward, to two empty seats near the cockpit door.
As he did so, he observed how the Echo men had attached
themselves to the shuttle's centralized life-support
system and strapped themselves into their seats.
He arrived at his seat, and plugged a secondary hose
from his life-support briefcase into a socket in the seat's
arm. Then he sat down and started securing his seat harness.
The President, watching him, did the same, strapping
himself into a seat on the other side of the central aisle.
Once he was safely secured, Schofield turned to look
about himself.
Across the aisle from him, in the seat directly behind
the President, he saw the lopsided figure of Kevin, looking
very awkward in his oversized space suit.
It was then that a strange thing happened.
Kevin waved at him.
Waved at him.
It was a rapid side-to-side wave which made the little
boy's overlong sleeve flap stupidly in the air.
Schofield frowned, did a double take.
He was wearing his opaque gold-tinted space helmet.
There was no way Kevin could see his face.
Did Kevin know who he was?
How could Kevin know who he was?
Schofield dismissed the thought as stupid. Kevin must
have just been waving at all of the astronauts.
He turned to check on the President--saw him draw his
area 7 407
seat belts tightly across his chest. The President seemed to
take a long, deep breath. Schofield knew how he felt.
Suddenly, voices came in over their helmet intercoms.
"Booster ignition standing by ..."
"Approaching launch height ..."
"Umbilical release in three ... two ... one ... mark."
There came a loud clunking noise from beneath the
shuttle, and abruptly, the whole spacecraft rose slightly in
the air, felt lighter.
"Umbilical has separated ... we are clear of the
launch vehicle ..."
There came a soft chuckle. Then Cobra Carney's voice: "Burn it."
"Certainly, sir. Prepare to engage Pegasus boosters ... Ignition in three ..."
The shuttle beneath Schofield began to rumble ominously.
two ...
He waited in tense anticipation.
"... one ... mark."
IT LOOKED LIKE SOMEONE HAD IGNITED A FLAME THROWER.
When the X-38's Pegasus boosters fired, the space shuttle
was positioned slightly above its abandoned 747 launch
vehicle--its gigantic boosters pointed directly at the silver
jumbo beneath it.
The boosters ignited, bright as magnesium flares. Two
incredibly long tongues of white-hot fire blasted out from
the twin cylindrical boosters on the underside of the X-38.
The two lances of fire shot like lightning bolts straight
into the 747, severing it in the middle, cutting through it like
a pair of blow torches.
The 747 just snapped in half under the weight of the
fiery blast, its back broken in an instant. The fuel inside its
wings ignited immediately, and a split second later, the
whole gigantic plane just exploded, showering the sky with
a thousand pieces of smoke-trailing debris.
408
Matthew Reilly
SCHOFIELD NEVER SAW THE 747 GET DESTROYED. HE WAS IN A
whole new world now.
The blast of the boosters igniting was like nothing he
had ever heard.
It was loud. Booming. All-consuming.
It had been like the sound of a jet engine thundering to
life--only multiplied by a thousand.
Now the shuttle tilted sharply upwards and rocketed forward.
Schofield was thrust back into his seat by the G-force.
The whole cabin began to shake and shudder. He felt his
cheeks flatten, press back against his face. He clenched his
teeth.
Apart from the closed cockpit door, the only visible link
between the flight deck and the rear cargo compartment was
a five-inch-thick window set into the cockpit's back wall.
Through this window, Schofield could see right through
to the forward windshield of the shuttle--through which he
could actually see the sky turning purple as they rose higher.
For a few minutes the shuttle soared upward, its massive
boosters lifting it high into the sky. Then, abruptly, over
the roar of the rockets, the flight team's voices returned:
"Prepare to jettison boosters and switch over to self contained power ..."
"Copy that."
"Stand by for booster release. In three ... two ... one ... mark."
Kerchunk!
Schofield felt the weight of the enormous booster rockets
drop away from the rising shuttle.
He looked over at the President--the Chief Executive
was gripping his armrests tightly. As far as Schofield was
concerned, that was actually a good sign. It meant that the
President hadn't passed out.
The X-38 rose into the sky. The shuddering and shaking
had stopped now and the ride became smoother, quieter, almost
as if the X-38 were floating on air.
Area 7 409
The respite gave Schofield a chance to take in his surroundings
more closely.
The first thing he saw was a keypad next to the cockpit
door--a locking mechanism, presumably for use in emergencies,
like when cabin pressure was lost.
Schofield also examined his space suit. There was a
small unit sewn into the sleeve of his left forearm which appeared
to control his helmet intercom. At the moment, the
unit's display screen indicated that he was currently on
channel 05.
He looked over at the President, surreptitiously tapped
his wrist unit, then held up three fingers: Switch to channel
three.
The President nodded. A few seconds later, Schofield
said, "Can you hear me?"
"Yes. What's the plan?"
"We sit tight. And we wait for a chance to take over this
bird."
THE SHUTTLE FLEW HIGHER.
As it did so, the view outside its forward windshield
gradually changed. The sky transformed from cloudy purple
to ominous black.
And then abruptly, as though a veil had been lifted,
Schofield found himself looking at a glorious galaxy of
stars, and beneath the starfield--glowing like an opal
against the jet-black sky--the wide elliptical expanse of the
Earth, curving downward at both extremities, stretching
away into the distance like some unbelievably gigantic luminescent
orb, so absolutely immense in its size that it was almost
too large to comprehend.
&nb
sp; It was breathtaking.
They weren't far up, almost exactly at the dividing line
between space and the outer atmosphere, about two hundred miles.
The Earth itself--curved and massive and dazzling--
filled almost three-quarters of Schofield's field of vision.
He stared at the sight, at the glowing turquoise planet
410 Matthew Reilly
hovering in front of the universe. Then he turned his gaze to
the starfield above the planet. It was so clear up here, the
starry sky so endless.
And then, one of the stars began to move.
Schofield blinked, looked again.
One of the stars was definitely moving.
"Holy Christ ..." he breathed.
It wasn't a star at all.
It was a shuttle, a space shuttle, all but identical in shape
and size to the regular American models.
It soared effortlessly in the weightlessness of space, cutting
a dead-straight line toward them. The red and yellow
flag on its tail was unmistakable.
It was the Chinese space shuttle.
Schofield flicked back to channel 05 in time to hear
Cobra's voice say: "Yellow Star, this is Fleeing Eagle, I
have visual on you now. We are reducing thrust to begin
parking orbit. You may commence your approach in thirty
seconds."
JUST THEN, THE COCKPIT DOOR SLID OPEN AND TWO OF THE
X-38's pilots emerged.
Schofield snapped to look up.
Now that they were in low orbit, they could move
around the cabin. It was zero gravity, so they stepped lightly,
using handgrips attached to the ceiling to move around.
Both pilots still wore their gold-tinted helmets, still carried
their briefcase-like life-support units at their sides. They
strode past Schofield and the President, heading aft to prepare
for the docking with the Chinese shuttle.
A couple of the other space-suited men in the cargo
hold also began unbuckling their seatbelts, getting up to help
with the transfer.
Schofield saw the chance, tuned to channel 03.
"Okay," he turned to the President. "This is it. Follow me."
As casually as he could make it look, Schofield
Area 7 411
reconnected his air hose to his life-support briefcase and began
unbuckling his seat belts.
The President did the same.
As his belts came free, Schofield felt the weightlessness
take hold of him. He gripped a ceiling handhold and before
anyone could stop him--or even ask him what he was
doing--he casually stepped over to Kevin and began reattaching
the boy's life-support briefcase and disengaging
him from his seat.
A couple of the faceless Echo astronauts looked over, curious.
Schofield gestured to the cockpit--Wanna have a look?
Kevin nodded.
The Echo men went back to their work.
With the President in tow behind him--holding on to the ceiling handholds--Schofield led Kevin forward, into
the shuttle's cockpit.
The view from the cockpit was even more incredible.
Through the panoramic forward windshield, the Earth
looked amazing, stretching away from them like an enormous
aqua-blue convex lens.
The last remaining pilot in the cockpit turned in his seat
as they entered.
Over to channel 05: "Just thought we'd come up and see
the view," Schofield said, coughing through his voice to
mask it.
"Not bad, huh? Just be sure to keep your visors on. Radiation's
a killer, and the sun is almost blinding."
Schofield put Kevin in the empty co-pilot's seat. Then he
turned to the President, clicked back to channel 03.
"You unbuckle his seat belts, then use them to secure his arms. I'll take care of his life-support hose."
"Huh--how? When?"
"After I do this ..." Schofield said.
And with that he leaned forward, grabbed the pilot's
gold-tinted visor, and wrenched it open.
"Argh!" the pilot roared, as raw white sunlight
412 Matthew Reilly
assaulted his eyes. Underneath his gold-tinted visor was a
clear glass bubble that afforded no protection against the
pure sunlight.
Schofield then ripped the man's life-support system out
of its wall socket, while at the same time, the President unclasped
his seat belts and quickly looped them behind the
man's flight seat, pinning his arms firmly to his sides.
Deprived of his life support--and now tied to his own
seat--the pilot started to gasp desperately for air.
Schofield dived for the cockpit door, slammed his fist
down on a switch next to the entryway. The door slid
quickly shut, enclosing the three of them inside the cockpit.
The President spun, "So what--?"
But Schofield was still moving.
He knew he had about three seconds before someone
reopened the cockpit door from the rear cargo compartment.
There was a keypad next to the door, identical to the one
on the other side.
Schofield rushed over to it.
Apart from the usual numbered keys and open/close
switches, there was one long red rectangular button on the
panel, concealed behind a clear-plastic safety casing. It read:
COCKPIT SECURITY LOCK
Schofield flipped open the safety casing and hit the big
red button.
Immediately--thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk!--the door's five emergency deadbolts locked into place, sealing off the cockpit like a bank vault.
A second later, Schofield heard a weak thumping noise coming from the other side: the sound of the Echo men hammering
angrily on the door.
Reflective gold helmets peered in through the five-inch
thick window in the dividing wall, waving furious fists.
Schofield didn't care.
This shuttle was now his.
Area 7 413
HE LEANED OVER KEVIN IN THE CO-PILOT'S SEAT, THE EARTH
and the stars laid out before him.
In addition to the view, he was confronted by another
intimidating sight: the X-38's flight console--a collection of about a million tiny switches, lights, buttons and monitors.
It looked like the cockpit of a jumbo jet ... only more complex.
The President took the rear navigator's seat, lifting
Kevin onto his lap.
"So, what now?" he asked. "Don't tell me you know
how to fly a space shuttle, too, Captain."
"Unfortunately not," Schofield said. He turned to face
the bound and still-gagging shuttle pilot. "But he does."
Schofield pulled his SIG-Sauer from his thigh pocket
and held it to the choking pilot's visor. The President reattached
the man's life-support hose. The pilot stopped gasping
as Schofield flicked his intercom to channel 03.
"I need you to help me bring this thing back down to
earth," Schofield said.
"Fuck you ..." the pilot said.
"Hmm," Schofield said. He then nodded to the President,
who yanked the pilot's life-support hose out of its
socket again. The Echo Unit pilot immediately resumed his
gagging.
Schofield tried again. "How about I put this anoth
er
way: either you tell me how to pilot this thing safely back to
Utah, or I do it without your help. Now, given the way I fly,
either we'll burn up on reentry or crash into a friggin' mountain.
Either way, we die. So, the way I see it, you either tell
me how to do it, or you get killed watching me try."
The President reattached the pilot's life-support hose.
The bound man's face was almost blue.
"Okay," he breathed. "Okay ..."
"Great," Schofield said, "Now, the first thing I need is--"
He cut himself off as illuminated green words scrolled
out rapidly across the cockpit's transparent heads-up display,
or HUD, in the windshield:
414 Matthew Reilly
FLEEING EAGLE, THIS IS YELLOW STAR.
YOU HAVE ALTERED COURSE.
PLEASE REALIGN TO VECTOR THREE-ZERO-ZERO.
Schofield stared at the words on the HUD. They seemed
to hover in the air in front of the starfield.
Then, beyond the transparent display, he saw the Chinese
space shuttle, much closer now.
It glided slowly and effortlessly through the void toward
his ship, about three hundred yards away and closing
quickly.
FLEEING EAGLE, PLEASE CONFIRM.
"Please confirm ..." Schofield muttered as he scanned
the cockpit's enormous array of switches and found the
weapons section. "Confirm this"
He flipped open a safety casing to reveal two red buttons
marked missile launch.
"This is for Mother," he said as he jammed his fingers
down on both buttons.
THE TWO SHUTTLES FACED EACH OTHER IN SPACE--HOVERING
above the outer atmosphere, lit from below by the brilliant
reflected light of the world--the compact X-38 and the
much larger Chinese shuttle.
And then suddenly, twin bolts of white shot out from
the wings of the X-38--two missiles, sleek zero-gravity AMRAAM's. They blasted off their wing mounts and rocketed through the vacuum between the two shuttles.
The missiles moved unbelievably fast, converging on
the Chinese shuttle like a pair of giant winged needles.
They left no smoke trails in their wakes. No puffs of
flame or fire, for nothing survives in a vacuum. Their tail
thrusters simply glowed orange against the black star-filled
sky.