A copter broke through the low-hanging clouds and zoomed toward the Heinlein. Werner yelped. “Who the hell is in that copter? What sort of insane person flies through a storm like this to land next to a rocket that’s about to launch?”
On the wallscreen, Dash nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone started playing No Diggity—the Anna Kendrick version from Werner’s childhood. Dash put the phone to her ear in amazement. “Ping!” Dash listened for a moment. “You’re where? You want to do what? Ping, you’re flying into a typhoon!”
Werner no longer wondered who was crazy enough to fly a copter here. Given all the stories he’d heard, he should have guessed.
Dash sighed in exasperation. “Werner, Ping needs to get into the space capsule. She’s going to help Jam if there’s any interference with the departure of the villagers.”
Werner stared at her in amazement.
Ted nudged him. “She can get on, right? What’s the problem?”
Werner thought about it and blew out a breath. “Let me call the operations officer. If she can land on the Heinlein in a typhoon, she can ride on the Titan when it launches in a typhoon.”
Dash gave him another warm smile. “Thank you so much, Werner. We all really appreciate this.” She disconnected her image from the wallscreen as she got back on the phone.
Soon thereafter Dash hung up and started pacing. Toni, whom Dash had invited to join her for the launch, watched her. “What’s wrong?”
Dash wrung her hands. “I need to get to the Fuxing. I just know that somehow they’re going to get hurt. I need to be there.” She continued pacing.
Toni watched for a few seconds. “This is really important to you? You’re really sure you need to go?”
Dash threw up her hands. “Yes, yes, but how? It’s just not possible. Even if our copters flew fast enough, they don’t have the range.” She stopped pacing for a moment. “We need better copters with better power.” She slumped. “The new nuclear battery I designed for Colin is too heavy. We need something better.” She turned rueful. “In the meantime, there’s no way to get there.”
Toni smiled broadly. “Nothing’s impossible for the woman with the right friends.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Daddy? I need my fighter. To get to the Fuxing. Yes, Daddy, now. Oh, really? You have it parked at Eglin, waiting for me just in case? You’re so good to me, Daddy.”
Toni pocketed her phone. “My plane should be here in a jiff. I’ll take you to the Fuxing. My dad will have to persuade the Americans to give us some midair refueling, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dash stared at her. “You own a fighter?”
Toni laughed. “Yeah, sort of. A modified F-35, the Adir, custom built for Israel with a second cockpit for a weapons officer. You up for a high-speed, high-altitude plane ride?”
Dash’s eyes widened in amazement. Eventually she regained the power of speech. Dash remembered a question she had been meaning to ask, one she had started to ask long ago at Ben’s First Launch party. “Who is your father, anyway?”
Toni laughed again. “Oh, right. I never told you, did I? He’s the Prime Minister of Israel.”
Dash took some time to digest this, then moved on to more immediate concerns. “But we don’t have an airstrip.”
Toni waved the objection away. “It’s a VTOL. Think of it as the hottest copter in history. We’ll land it on the helipad.” She frowned. “We may have to repair the helipad when we’re done, but it should work.”
Dash’s brain went back into high gear. “If this works, I will get Amanda and Colin to resurface all the helipads with graphene-reinforced carbon. Then we will be good to go.”
Toni touched her fist to Dash’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
Major Zhang tapped the dashboard of the lead truck impatiently. He didn’t know what would happen at nine, but he was quite sure he wanted to be there ahead of time. He needed to take this Jam person into custody. The charges? Operating an unlicensed helicopter.
It was a silly charge out here in the middle of nowhere, but hopefully it would be enough to satisfy his superiors.
In fact, he was not at all interested in pressing charges. He just wanted to see her again. He would decide what to do about the charges after seeing her, this time in more favorable circumstances. Which was to say, circumstances under which he had control.
The driver interrupted his ruminations, pointing high into the sky. “Major! Look!”
An enormous fireball came hurtling across the sky. The sight was soon joined by an enormous clap of thunder as whatever-it-was descended.
Zhang remembered her words. “Fireworks,” he muttered under his breath. Louder, he added, “Step it up! We must get there before it lands!”
Even as he said it, however, he knew they would be too late.
The forces of the universe conspired once again to deprive the mayor of Baotong of his proper repose.
This morning, daybreak seemed to be occurring with unnatural brightness and speed, accompanied by a loud rumble. The brilliant light and the noise jarred him half-awake, and he stumbled to his feet, eyes still closed, and found the window curtains by feel alone. He pulled the curtains closed, which shut out enough of the light for him to stumble back to bed and go back to sleep.
Jam looked up at the hatch on the capsule, far above her, still coupled to the boosters that had brought it here. The soon to be ex-residents of Baotong were swiftly laying a pattern of flagstones across the charred and barren field that had been wheat mere minutes ago. The ground no longer glowed cherry red, but it was still far too hot to cross without something to protect their feet.
The hatch opened, and a long set of steps unfolded accordion-like from the opening. The metal steps cut in half the distance they would have to cover with stone to board, bypassing the half that was also the hottest. Jam felt considerable relief.
A figure appeared in the hatchway wearing a pack and carrying a collection of folded tubes. Jam goggled at the sight. “Ping! What are you doing here!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Ping hopped down the steps two at a time. “Jam!” she shouted back. “We need to hurry!” She shifted her bundle and pointed into the distance. “The army’s on its way!”
Jam looked where Ping pointed. Clouds of dust billowed behind Major Zhang’s trucks as he rushed to get here before she departed. Well, she’d warned him, and given him a recommended ETA that was late enough so that, if he decided to show early, he’d still be safe.
A little old man laid the last stone, and the villagers started to hurry aboard. Ping somehow skipped over the stones past the passengers without either stepping onto the broiling hot ground nor pushing anyone else. She dropped the tubes—her Big Gun, folded up, of course—and threw her arms around Jam. “You are looking exceptional.” She stepped back to scrutinize her friend. “And that dress really makes a statement, girl.”
Jam laughed as she twirled, once more displaying the Karl Lagerfeld gown Dash had given her so far away and so long ago. “I still should not have brought it with me on this crazy trip through China—a sensible person would have brought more underwear—but somehow it felt right to wear it today.”
Ping gave her a sideways grin. “Well, it certainly does lend the occasion a celebratory air.”
The last of the villagers had climbed the last of the steps. Ping picked up her Big Gun.
Jam looked at it in displeasure. “I see you’ve got your BT12 PGM auto launcher with you. Really, Ping, you need to have Dash surgically attach it to you.” She fingered the black pack strapped over Ping’s shoulders. “What’ve you got in the backpack?”
Ping twirled once to show off the pack. “That’s no backpack. It’s my batpack!”
Jam gave her a puzzled look. “Batpack?”
“Yeah, like Batman’s utility belt. Everything you could possibly need for the unforeseen. Duct tape, WD-40, stuff like that. I’ve never flown on an experimental rocket ship rescuing a whole village before, so I bro
ught my batpack.” Ping gestured to the ship. “Come on.”
She hopped across the stones and up the ladder. Jam moved with more careful grace till she was near the top, then turned to look one last time at the soldiers rushing toward them.
Major Zhang, jouncing up and down as the truck banged along the decrepit road far too fast, tried to watch with his binoculars as Jam climbed the steps. Of course, the binoculars bounced with the truck, nearly poking out an eye. He gave up. He considered giving up the pursuit. Then it dawned on him, what it would mean when Jam finished boarding, and the ladder retracted, and the engines rumbled to life.
More fireworks. Really big fireworks. On the ground. “Halt the convoy!” he yelled into his radio. “Stop now!”
The convoy ground to a halt, not quite skidding as they jumbled halfway off the road. He turned to his driver. “We’ll watch from here. This should be a sight for you to tell your grandchildren about.” He raised his binoculars to his eyes. This time he was able to hold them steady easily.
She was wearing a ballroom gown, pink, blue, and a dark beige of some sort that no doubt had a very fancy name. The dress fit perfectly, undoubtedly custom-tailored by the best the BrainTrust could offer and certainly worth more than his house. Somehow it was only proper.
At the top of the steps she turned and looked toward his convoy. She could not possibly see him from so far away with no binoculars, but he knew she was looking directly at him.
She waved.
Then she was gone, the ladder was up, and a rumble followed shortly after a belch of smoke and fire lit beneath the ship.
Major Zhang threw open the door and yelled, “Take cover! Take cover!”
Those who heard him threw themselves instinctively to the ground, responding to orders without thought or hesitation. The major himself just stood and watched as the spaceship lifted off and turned once more into a fireball in the sky.
At that moment, Zhang had a ridiculous thought. He realized he was in love.
The mayor of Baotong made a raspy sound, his best approximation of a growl. Would no one let him sleep? He opened his eyes in irritation. The thunder had come back even louder this time he thought, and the light was so bright the glare penetrated his curtains. He needed new blinds, he decided.
Rising with a grunt, he went to the window to see what he could see.
The first thing to catch his eye was a bright flare in the sky. As it faded into the distance the thunder subsided as well, leading him to swiftly deduce that they came from the same source. Odd, but hardly important. He looked down to watch the peasants work in the field, a sight that always cheered him up.
Finally, he realized something was terribly wrong. No peasants worked the growing crops. No crops grew. Where just last night the wheat had risen in waving rows, only charred barren dirt remained.
He did not have much time to stare at the mysterious disaster; a convoy of army trucks sped towards his home. He dressed in haste, worrying about how the army would react when they asked him what had happened—and he had no idea.
Major Zhang directed the convoy up to the comfortable-looking house on the hill, the only comfortable looking place in ten kilometers. Surely this was the mayor’s place. He grimaced as he realized that the mayor had been correct, more or less, in his accusations against the foreign woman.
When Zhang jumped from the truck and headed towards the house, a man in office attire, obviously having dressed in haste, charged out the front door. Zhang surmised that the mayor had decided in a very military fashion that his best defense might be a strong offense. “Major! Hurry! That woman I told you about? She’s kidnapped all my workers!” He pointed at the charred, barren field. “And she vandalized my wheat!”
Major Zhang listened to this with growing amazement. “You think she vandalized your wheat field? Poured a little gasoline around and dropped a cigarette?”
The mayor spluttered. “I don’t know how she did it, but she was certainly responsible.” He pointed at the trucks. “Get your men moving! She can’t have taken my workers far! Get them back! And arrest her!”
The major turned to look back to where the dust thrown up by his trucks still hovered, floating lazily in the still air. “You want me to go after them with the trucks?” He reluctantly started to laugh. His lieutenant had meanwhile caught up, and the major repeated, choking on his laughter, “He wants me to go after them with the trucks.”
The lieutenant stared, then started to laugh as well.
Zhang pulled out a cell phone.
The mayor grunted. “You won’t get a signal out here. Those incompetent phone people refuse to put up a tower.” This was clearly one of the mayor’s pet peeves—being cut off from civilization like that.
The major pulled out a second phone, muttering to himself. “Curious. Jam’s phone works.” He contemplated it for a moment. Should he make the call with the phone that worked? The BrainTrust phone? No, better not. He put the phone away and addressed the mayor. “You have a landline? I have to call the Air Force.”
The mayor shook his head, startled. “The Air Force?”
This dunce had been annoying the major for hundreds of kilometers, and for days on end. Now the dunce had lost his whole village, and he was acting like he’s the victim! Major Zhang approached him and yelled, “The Air Force, you ninny! We’ve been invaded! You are clearly a collaborator! Hurry, now, or I’ll have you in chains!”
The mayor hurried. The major started making calls.
The general in command of China’s Ballistic Missile Early Warning System was drinking a Grande Starbucks Americano when one of his trackers, who was watching the returns from the Changcheng infrared sensor satellites, shouted, “Unidentified missile launch!”
The general nearly jumped out of his chair. He managed to stay firmly seated, and asked calmly, “Where?”
The tracker spoke this time with considerably less confidence. “From the Loess Plateau, General.”
The general shouted in astonishment, “From inside China?”
“Yes, sir.” The tracker paused. “The signature approximately matches that of a Kestrel Heavy triple booster.”
While the general puzzled over this, another officer monitoring the communications of the other early warning systems networks by the other major powers spoke. “Traffic analysis suggests the Americans are going to Defcon 3.”
The hair on the back of the general’s neck rose. From the American perspective, it could easily look like the Chinese had just launched an ICBM.
The tracker announced, “I’ve lost it, sir. The boost phase has ended.”
The general rose from his chair. “Radar! Have you got it?”
“Sir! No radar tracks!”
No radar tracks? A stealth missile?
The radar operator spoke again. “Wait, I’ve got something… It’s sporadic.” He watched for another moment, then continued, “It’s similar to the tracks left by our stealth fighters, General.” Another pause. “I think this rocket is shedding its stealth coating.”
The general nodded. The Chinese fighters were notorious for losing their stealth due to time and poor maintenance. This rocket was losing its stealth to the more brutal force of launch to orbit.
The radar operator continued, “We have calculated the rocket’s splashdown location, which will be in the ocean southeast of Hong Kong.” He checked the map. “Probably heading to the new BrainTrust archipelago, the Fuxing.”
The comm net monitor spoke. “The Americans are standing down from Defcon Three.”
One of the general’s telephones rang. He picked it up. “Who’s this?” he demanded abruptly. “Zhang? Major Zhang? Who the hell are you?”
Major Zhang rubbed his temples. “I’m an Army officer currently in the village of Baotong. Don’t bother to look it up. You won’t find it on any of your maps unless you can find Nowhere in the Middle of Nowhere.”
The mayor whined. “It’s my village. Very important.”
Quite inatte
ntive to the mayor’s needs, Zhang continued speaking on the phone. “You may have just detected a missile launch from here. It looked like a Kestrel Heavy, or maybe one of those new Kestrel Titans, except it was black.” He paused, ruminating. “It might have a stealth coating.”
Zhang listened for a moment. “Yes, that sounds about right. Anyway, I watched everyone from the village board the rocket before it departed. I was too far away to stop or question them, but I had a clear view of the event.”
The mayor screamed for the benefit of the man on the phone, “Kidnapped! My workers were all kidnapped!”
Zhang closed his eyes. “That’s the mayor. He’s quite confident his people were kidnapped by a foreign woman.” He paused. “The mayor’s second cousin’s wife has a first cousin on the Politburo.”
This was a calculated insult. When political personages explained the family relationships that gave them power, they described them as a means of giving themselves prestige. When a military man explained such a relationship to another military man, it was a quiet way of highlighting the individual’s incompetence.
“Yes, General, they invaded our country. And left.” He rubbed his temples again as the general spoke. “Perhaps, General. But if the nation is invaded by a bus, and some people take the bus back where it came from, are the passengers guilty of any crime?” More words spilled from the phone. “Very well. Yes, I can take care of things on this end easily enough.”
Major Zhang hung up the phone and stared into the distance. “You’ll need to find more workers, Mayor. One way or the other, I don’t think your villagers are coming back.”
The general stood with his lips pursed for a long moment. The rocket was full of Chinese peasants? It made no difference. The rocket had violated Chinese airspace. Peasants were unimportant, but airspace was sacrosanct. “Somebody get me the Air Force base outside Shanghai! Scramble a squadron of fighters! We have to shoot that spaceship down!”
Rhapsody For The Tempest (The Braintrust Book 3) Page 15