because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.
“Good. Okay, what flight are you on?”
“PRA 81 inbound for LAX. Uncle Walt? Do you suppose I could stay with you and Aunt Melanie for a few days?” She laughed, a mirthless chuckle. “My vacation sort of got interrupted, and I’m somewhat at loose ends right now.”
“Mmm,” he grunted, deep in thought. “Kaitlin, do you know how to get a message back to…our friend?”
“Yes. The, ah, normal channels seem to be down, but we have a back door.”
“Excellent. Okay, this won’t wait. Look…I’ll talk to you later.”
And Kaitlin was left staring, dumbfounded, at a blank screen. Uncle Walt wasn’t usually so abrupt. He probably wanted to let the base commander know about the message before it got any later. She was stunned, though, and a little hurt, that he hadn’t even responded to her inviting herself over. Well, she could always spend the night at an airport hotel and then call Aunt Melanie in the morning.
Then she realized that his abruptness was a confirmation. She’d been right. Getting her dad’s message through was important. She was now very, very glad she’d followed her hunch and taken the suborbital. If what had happened on Mars was a prelude to war, and if she’d stayed on in Japan, she might have found herself unable to leave. And she would have been the only one on the planet to know what had gone down …and she wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it.
In a surprisingly short time the descent warning sounded, followed by a period of gradually increasing weight and a growing shudder. The nose-camera view was beginning to show a pearly opalescence, deep red, tinted pink on the edges, as the Bullet plowed back into thicker atmosphere, killing velocity with a series of vast, computer-controlled S-sweeps across the northeastern Pacific.
She thought about what her father had always said, about the Marine Corps being like a family. She wondered what other members of that family would do when they found out about the takeover at Cydonia. Uncle Walt cared because he knew her dad, but what would his superiors think…and feel? Would they care…or was what happened to a few Marines a hundred million miles away not worth the risk of going to war?
She saw little of the actual landing—a sudden blur of city lights as the suborbital swept in over the coastline somewhere near San Jose, followed by a rapid descent and a final burst of power from the craft’s traditional ramjets as it maneuvered into the LAX landing pattern. By the time the suborbital touched down with a bump and a squeal she had worked herself into a real state. Kaitlin knew just how precarious the survival of the Marine Corps was right now. Damn it, nobody cared. Her father’s message would probably be ignored…or dismissed as a fake. It was a peculiarly helpless feeling, knowing that Dad was in trouble on another planet, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to help him.
As the aircraft came to a halt at the terminal, a warning sounded and display screens flashed in several languages, instructing all passengers to stay in their seats.
“Miss Garroway?”
She looked up at the flight attendant who’d just materialized by her seat. “Uh, yeah?”
He smiled politely. “Would you get your things and follow me, please?”
What? As she followed the attendant out the main door of the craft and into the transport tunnel, she heard rustlings behind her as the other passengers were at last allowed to move. Since when did she rate VIP treatment?
Then she wondered if her message to Uncle Walt had been intercepted by the Japanese government after all…but she was on American soil now. Surely, they couldn’t detain her here, no matter what the current UN situation might be.
Two Marines in khaki uniforms, a gunnery sergeant and a staff sergeant, were waiting for her in the terminal, and she felt a hot rush of relief. Marines she could handle.
“Miss Garroway?” the gunnery sergeant asked, and she nodded. “Please come with us, ma’am.”
As she sat down in the waiting transfer cart, she turned to the gunnery sergeant. “Colonel Fox sent you, didn’t he?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” was the uninformative reply.
“He didn’t? Well, who did? Where are you taking me? What’s going on here?” She was getting more than a little annoyed.
“Our orders come directly from Commandant Warhurst, ma’am. We’re taking you to Terminal E for transfer to a military Star Eagle transport.”
“The commandant! But why? What’s going on? Where am I going?”
The man finally turned and looked at her. She had the feeling that he was as puzzled about his orders as she was. “Ma’am,” he said apologetically, “we don’t exactly know what’s going on ourselves. But our orders are to take you by fastest available military transport to Andrews Aerospace Force Base and from there to the Pentagon. The commandant himself will be waiting for you.”
Suddenly he grinned. “Don’t know what you’ve done, ma’am, but I tell you, I haven’t seen the brass this worked up since the Colombian War…and believe you me, that takes some doing!”
TUESDAY, 29 MAY: 1830 HOURS GMT
National Security Council Conference Room,
Executive Building Basement, Washington, DC 1430 hours EDT
I never thought an electronics specialist would be the one to start a damned war, General Warhurst thought, as he showed his special pass and ID to a grim-faced Army guard at yet another checkpoint. He followed Admiral Gray through the x-ray scanner and into the bustling subterranean labyrinth that was the Executive Building’s deepest basement levels. Still, given the high-tech nature of warfare these days, an electronics specialist and computer programmer was as likely to push the war initiate sequence button as anyone else, and maybe more so.
He thought about his son. He’d been thinking about Ted a lot, lately. It had been eighteen days since his death in Mexico, and eleven since the funeral at Arlington. Life, these past weeks, had become a vast and yawning emptiness…one that Montgomery Warhurst had been trying to fill with work.
He felt guilty about that. Stephanie seemed to be covering up her grief pretty well, but Janet was in a bad way; she and Jeff, Ted’s son, were staying at the house in Warrenton for a while, until things could settle out. At least he had work, something to occupy his mind.
The nights were rough, though. He hadn’t been sleeping much….
This new crisis on Mars was almost welcome. Any distraction was welcome now.
Admiral Gray led him down a long and gleaming passageway, guided him left into a comfortably appointed lobby, then ushered him between two more sentries and through an inner door that would have done a bank vault proud.
The room was lavish enough, with its rich oak paneling, thick carpet, and executive-style leather chairs, but it somehow didn’t match the mental image Warhurst had formed of the place when CJ had asked him to attend this morning’s meeting. He’d expected something larger and grander, frankly, a corner room, perhaps, with a splendid view of the White House grounds next door and the Capitol Building beyond. The room was large, with a low ceiling lit by fluorescents concealed behind plastic panels.
