“Not only is she Echohawk’s ex-wife,” the Minister continued, “Which, in itself will assist us with both public perception and accessibility to the Ship Survey Expedition, but she is also top in her field. And…working as an engineer in one of the Committee’s double-blind research facilities? Is that accurate, mister Chairman?”
“Yes, it is,” The Chairman Joint Chiefs replied, consulting his console, “Yes, it is. She’s at…our Groom Lake facility.” Onscreen, it seemed to the Minister as though MI-6 was eyeing him studiously. It was an uncomfortable sensation. The Minister had heard stories about him: how perceptive he was, how highly skilled…how merciless and accomplished a killer he had been in his youth. The current head of MI-6 had proven himself countless times as a field operative and as a tactician, baptized in blood during War Three. As a member of the Committee, he was cool, diplomatic and always completely aware of what was going on around him. At once, the Minister felt like a target, a supplicant to interrogation and someone easily dispatched. MI-6’s gaze made the Minister feel mortal, indeed.
“I second the new member’s suggestion,” MI-6 said at last, “Any other suggestions? No? All in favour of Lieutenant Colonel Bloom, then?” As the votes were cast the Minister realized he’d made a gamble suggesting Bloom; he was now responsible for her. He also had to wonder who else here had a stake in Bloom’s candidacy, if anyone, and who didn’t. They had voted for Bloom unanimously save for the Chairman of the Joint Chief’s abstention.
“I have a recommendation for head of security also,” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said, “He did some work for us when the Ship was found.”
“Do tell, Mister Chairman,” MI-6 urged. “Do tell.”
♦♦♦
Bloom’s leave expired two days after the funeral. Mark’s close family stuck around for most of the first day and the Ship Survey Expedition left only on the morning of the second. Laura had hoped to be able to spend more time alone with her mother, especially now that her father was gone. Laura rose early that day, snapping awake when the door closed as Bloom left for her morning run. She got up, showered and made coffee. Within minutes of the aroma from the coffee machine hitting the air Allison was up, familiarly dressed in an oversize T-shirt and ratty bathrobe. One of the things that had endeared Allison to Laura above all the roommates she’d had in the past was that Allison always woke up if she smelled coffee brewing. Something left over from her childhood, she explained, when her father used to make breakfast every morning, brewing the coffee first thing at five. Now no matter what time it was or what condition she was in from the night before, she would be up and in the kitchen at the first scent of coffee.
“Morning,” rasped Alison. She said nothing else until the coffee was brewed. Once she’d fixed herself a cup and had put half of it away, she came more awake.
“How are you doing today?” she asked. Anyone else asking the question would have made Laura resentful. But it was the same question Allison asked her nearly every morning and held particular meaning after the events of the past few days.
“Better,”
“That’s good,” Allison said, “It’s a start. Good coffee.”
“Thanks,” Laura said with a smile. Her father had taught her to make it when she first started living on her own. His trick was to put a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg in the coffee grounds before brewing. Allison had a cigarette with the last half of her coffee and then headed for the shower. Laura’s mother came back from her run around the time Laura was sitting down to breakfast. Allison was out of the shower and making her own breakfast as Bloom fixed herself some coffee. They talked idly for a while, Bloom having a quick breakfast while Laura and Allison finished theirs. Bloom headed for the shower. Another coffee and then they were getting their day ready. Allison was off to classes, Laura to bid farewell to the SSE and her mother.
Airport greetings and farewells were becoming too commonplace for Laura’s tastes. She turned her car into the parking lot and she and her mother stepped out and headed down to the terminal to meet the SSE and bid them farewell. They found them sitting in the terminal waiting area talking amongst themselves. As Laura and Bloom approached the members of the SSE stood as one. James and Peter were the first to greet them, followed by Aiziz, Andrews and Kodo.
“It’s been good seeing you guys again,” Laura said, “I just wish it had been under happier circumstances.”
“So do I,” Peter said, “So do we all.”
“Actually you may be seeing me around, at least for a little while,” James told Laura, “I’m staying in LA to wrap up the Prof’s affairs at the University. I know the material and where it is in his office. I should stay behind…at least to take care of that. It’s also not just his teaching: there’s speaking engagements, conferences and a whole slew of shit that has to be dealt with by someone who…who knew his itinerary.” There was something else in James’ eyes: a loss, a trauma, a doubt…Laura couldn’t name it, but something said that the University was the simplest excuse as to why he wasn’t returning to the Ship. She hoped she’d find out why, later. If Laura had asked, Bloom could probably have told her the reason: James’s face bore marks she recognized well. During the Australian Conflict Bloom had been stationed in the Philippines with the Allied World Army. She’d had friends among the ground forces and had seen many of them with that same look. It was a look that said: “I’ve seen too much bloodshed. I’ve had enough violent death.” It was a look Bloom associated with combat veterans who’d seen one too many of their comrades killed in action. It was a look that said no force on Earth would bring him back to the place where horrors were made real for him.
“I understand,” she told James. James gave Bloom a knowing nod that told her he knew she did.
“There’s still time to reconsider James,” Aiziz said, “We’d benefit a great deal from your presence at the Site.”
“I know,” He said, “But there are too many things here that need to be done.” The finality of his attitude ended further comment. The flight back to New Mexico began boarding shortly after that, leaving just enough time for final farewells. Then Bloom, Laura and James found themselves together.
“Have you got a place to stay, yet?” Laura asked him.
“I have a guaranteed spot in Campus Apartments as part of my contract as your dad’s TA,” James said, “At least, I will have for the next little while. After that, well, I’ll be looking for a job and a place to stay.”
“You aren’t going back to the Ship Survey at all?” Bloom asked, though in truth she suspected she knew the answer. James looked away and swallowed hard against a lump in his throat.
“I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice heavy. He said nothing more, waiting for Laura while she and her mother bid each other farewell. Then they walked together back towards the parking lot.
“James, why don’t you stay with me and Allison?” Laura offered, “At least until you figure things out. You can have the couch.”
“I don’t know,” James said. “I guess...it’s been a while since you and I really got together to shoot the shit.”
Laura smiled. “It’s settled,” She said, “Let’s get some lunch.”
♦♦♦
“Tower to Moon Dog, over,” Bloom said into her mic. “Report.”
“The floor of the cockpit’s rising up under me,” Captain Harriman’s nervous voice came back, “You’re sure this is safe, over?”
“Roger that,” Bloom said, “Report back when the controls have gone up.”
“Roger.” Bloom toggled off the commlink between herself and the pilot that General Harrod had given the Bug to. It still stung, because up until the funeral the Bug’s first flight had been all but hers. Her mind drifted back to the day before, when she’d returned to the Facility after burying Mark.
“Lieutenant-Colonel,” Harrod had said, returning her salute as she reported in, “Welcome back.”
“Thank you General,” She’d replied, “When has the test fli
ght of our Bug been rescheduled for?”
“Captain Harriman is being briefed on the controls, now.”
“Harriman?” Bloom repeated, “General, I don’t understand.”
“Given the circumstances, Lieutenant-Colonel, it was decided to replace you, as pilot.”
“General, Harriman doesn’t have half the flight time I have,” Bloom had said, “And I’ve seen his jacket! I’ve flown close to a hundred different kinds of aircraft. He’s done what? Ten? Fifteen? The Facility built a Bug prototype just prior to War Three General. At the time the pilot who took it up had more experience than I did. He died in the ensuing crash. I’m the best pilot here. I should be taking the Bug up.”
“You just came back from burying your husband,” Harrod replied.
“My ex-husband sir, though I loved him dearly. I assure you I am ready to fly this mission. I want to fly this mission. I need this.”
Harrod regarded her a long time before shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant-Colonel. I can’t authorize you to fly this one. You know the regs.”
“With all due respect General, fuck the regs!” Bloom snapped.
“Lieutenant-Colonel,” Bloom heard the danger in his voice, “Tread lightly. I’ve explained to you: Harriman is flying this one. He’s been in training for this along with you and the rest of the squad since the cockpit layout was determined. You’ll be in the control tower acting as his flight monitor. You’ll talk him down if anything goes wrong.”
“Anything goes wrong General and there won’t be time to talk him down.”
♦♦♦
“Moon Dog to tower,” Harriman reported in, giving his call sign, “The control panel’s materialized. I’m adjusting my display boom to lock onto the console.” Harriman had been supplied with an eyepiece that overlaid the translated runes onto the control panel before him. He sat cradled in the protective restraints of the cockpit, adjusting the eyepiece on his headset console so that the overlay was perfectly set. The display “locked” itself to the console in front of him. Harriman could look away from the Bug’s control panel and the display would likewise scroll away from in front of his eye. The translation team at the Groom Lake Facility had worked no small miracle since Bloom had discovered the Bug’s flight controls.
Working with runic icons they’d found in the dead Bug and retracing circuit pathways from the cockpit of the living Bug had allowed them to interpret most of the flight controls. Samples of runic script had been found in both vehicles years before and the Facility’s respective teams of engineers interpreters and investigators had had decades to begin unravelling the mystery of Shiplanguage.
“Roger that,” Bloom said. Air traffic reported in: their airspace was clear.
“You are cleared to leave the barn,” Bloom said. Bloom watched, feeling jealous, depressed, angry, empty all at once. She studied the displays around her as a dozen people worked consoles monitoring every nuance of this test flight. The Bug taxied from the hangar out onto the tarmac. She could see it from here out of the control tower’s windows: a green and gold object reflecting the morning’s sunlight.
“The Bee has left the Hive.”
“Roger that Moon Dog,” Bloom replied, “Throttle up and take her into the sky.” Almost immediately the Bug rose on a near-vertical. Bloom felt the windows start to rattle a fraction of a second before the sonic boom hit. Alarms were pinging and people were exclaiming harried status reports from their consoles. Bloom heard the hollering whoop coming over Harriman’s mic and felt that twinge again. She watched her readout. Impossibly the Bug was up to Mach 3 and climbing rapidly. She watched, stunned, as the Bug pulled a turn so steep that it should have been sheered in two.
“This can’t be right!” one of the operators called, “He didn’t even pull any gees on that turn!”
“Tower to Moon Dog!” Bloom exclaimed, “Reduce your speed! Reduce your speed!”
“Oh, man, this is incredible!” Harriman exclaimed as the Bug slowed and halted. He was almost five kilometres above sea level and more than halfway to California. The Bug was hovering effortlessly.
“Moon Dog, what happened when you executed that turn?”
“Nothing, Tower; Nothing! I can’t believe how this craft handles! And you should see the view from here!” Bloom could imagine. Harriman was hanging inside a spherical imaging chamber that rendered a perfect three dimensional image of the South-western continental United States directly below him.
“Tower I want to take this thing higher,” Harriman called, “I think I can get up into high orbit.”
“Negative Harriman,” Bloom called. “I don’t recommend—dammit!” Harriman wasn’t listening. A test pilot born and bred he, as Bloom would have done, was doing what he wanted to do, orders to the contrary be damned.
“Moon Dog!” Bloom called angrily, “Moon Dog! Abort! Return to base!” Part of her had to admit she would rather have been the pilot. The other part was planning Harriman’s dressing-down and the indefinite suspension of his flight privileges.
“Moon Dog to Tower do you copy?”
“Copy, Moon Dog. Over.”
“Are you reading my display? What is that?” Bloom hit a switch on her console. She was now seeing what Harriman and the video operator three chairs down from her were seeing. Something on the display screen of the Bug was being tracked. What Bloom could only describe as crosshairs were sliding across the starscape overhead.
“Are you reading my display?” Harriman asked, “The Bug’s tracking something. It’s…Cancel that Tower. The Bug is tracking my eye movement across the screen.”
“Hit the toggle key labelled manual target,” Bloom replied.
“Roger that.” Harriman found the key on the console and stabbed it. Suddenly the crosshairs locked on one of a distant point of light and brought the image forward. Harriman pulled back in his restraints as he watched a planet rush towards him.
“What in the fuck?”
“Moon Dog, you are on VOX,” Bloom came back, “We’re reading the image. You’re looking at…the Planet Uranus.”
“Say again?”
“The rune must have been mislabelled,” Bloom said, “You probably triggered some sort of onboard telescope.”
“Roger. How do I shut it off?”
“Hit the toggle switch again,” Bloom said. The planet receded and Harriman’s view shifted back to the orbital starscape of Earth.
“That did the trick,” Harriman said.
“Good. Now, bring her back in, slowly and try some more manoeuvres,” Bloom said, “That’s an order, understand?”
“Yes, mother,” Harriman said, “The Bee is returning to the Hive. Engaging afterburners.” She watched his view shift to the console. Harriman keyed the engines.
“What the hell?” Harriman muttered. The image suddenly broke up into static and then cleared.
“What the hell?” Harriman said, more alarmed. Static again…dissipating, leaving behind a much less well-defined image.
“Tower to Moon Dog. Do you copy? What is your status?”
“OH MY GOD!” they heard Harriman scream. Then static; horrible, silent static.
“Get me telemetry,” Bloom snapped, “I want everything we have! I want to know what the fuck just happened!” And in the back of her mind, for the first time since being grounded, Bloom wasn’t sure she was so envious of Captain Harriman, anymore.
♦♦♦
There was a moment of disorientation when he woke up. Looking around as the apartment began coming into focus, James remembered where he was and how he had come to be here. The sofa bed creaked beneath him as he shifted into a sitting position and memories of the previous evening found their way to his conscious waking mind. He and Laura had stayed up most of the night talking, occasionally joined by Laura’s roommate Allison. They smoked up and hung out, though James found it awkward opening up around Allison at first. He soon discovered that she was both sympathetic and insightful. In Laura and Allis
on both James had found peers, people he could talk to who could empathize and not analyze.
Allison stayed silent or was absent for much of the conversation about Echohawk, for it could not include her. Laura was his daughter, James one of his graduate students and his primary assistant. Allison had met him all of three times. But Echohawk and his death weren’t the only subjects they discussed nor were James’ and Laura’s reactions to it (which were polar opposites: Laura was finding her own faith strengthened, where he was rapidly losing his). But they also had reminisced about their early years together, discussed school life.
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