The Omega Command (42 page)

McCracken’s eyes wandered over the endless rows of gauges, dials, and cathode-ray tube displays on the cockpit’s front and sides. “Yeah, but how well can you control this bus once the time comes?”

“You mean in manual?” When Blaine nodded, Petersen went on. “I’ll spare you the details, but because of its military nature,
Pegasus
was built to handle like a goddamn Ferrari.”

“So you’ll be able to maneuver once we meet up with our friend.”

“I’ll be able to take you wherever you want to go.”

“You already are, Captain.”

Chapter 34

THE MINUTES PASSED
into agonizingly long hours. Cabin pressure had stabilized, allowing Blaine to remove his confining helmet long before. Still, comfort was a thing not to be found. His motions felt slow and elongated, the fun of being able to float buoyantly at whim totally lost upon him. He had to admit, though, that the view was spectacular. Petersen acted as tour guide for much of the trip’s duration by pointing out various countries and bodies of water as
Pegasus
passed above them.

They were into their fifth orbit, cruising comfortably toward the mid-Pacific, when Captain Petersen steadied his headset.

“Houston, this is
Pegasus
. We have reached our cruising altitude of one seventy-five nautical miles and are proceeding on intercept course with Comet X-ray. Final engine burns complete. Cap-Com, she’s riding smooth.”

“Roger,
Pegasus
.”

“Houston, we should be in the vicinity of Comet X-ray in minutes now. Do your instruments show anything?”

“Negative,
Pegasus
. All boards and monitoring stations look clear. The sky’s all yours.”

“That’s a roger.”

Because the transmission was open, the true purpose of the shuttle’s mission was being cloaked in seemingly mundane talk. Comet X-ray was their private name for the intruder satellite they were seeking. Petersen held no illusions about Houston’s response to his query, though. He had read all the reports on
Adventurer’s
destruction in detail and memorized the final transmissions. There had been no warning in that case either. The killer machine had appeared out of nowhere.

“Houston, we will maintain present heading in attempt to sight Comet X-Ray. We will check in every minute. Repeat, every minute.”

“Roger,
Pegasus.
”

“Give us a buzz if you catch wind of anything down there, Cap-Com.”

It was 7:50 eastern standard time when
Pegasus
passed over Wake Island. Petersen was steering manually now, simply holding the shuttle on its preprogrammed heading.

“Houston,” said Petersen, “this is
Pegasus
. I’m going to raise us a mite higher to slow our orbit and give Comet X-ray a fair chance to catch up.”

“Roger,
Pegasus
.”

Petersen turned to McCracken. “If we do find this thing, Blaine,” he said somberly, “it’s gonna be your job to blast it. I’ll fill you in.” He shifted in his seat to allow Blaine to creep up closer. Then he pointed to a center panel within easy reach of his right hand. The panel was dominated by a monitoring screen and a twin pair of joysticks. “This thing may look like a video game, but it’s the firing mechanism for the laser cannons.”

“Where do I insert the quarter?”

“In Jamrock’s toilet to the rear of the shuttle. Anyway, when the system’s activated, this is what you get.”

Petersen flipped a switch and the viewing screen came to life with a series of three-dimensional angular shapes merging into a single square sliced up into individual boxes.

“Okay,” he continued, “we’ve got two cannons, one inside each side of the front. For security reasons, since no one’s supposed to know we’re armed, the lasers are hidden behind heat shield panels that slide away upon activation. See that green light in the right corner of the panel?”

“Sure.”

“That indicates the panels are open and the cannons are operable. The fail-safe mechanism makes it impossible to fire them if the panels are still closed. Anyway, the cannons’ angle of fire can be changed by manipulating the joystick controls. They’re tied into the same circuit, so moving one is the same thing as moving both.” Petersen’s hand moved onto the screen. “Now, here’s the most important thing. Once we find this satellite of yours, you’ve got to adjust the joysticks so that it fills out the center of the box on the viewing screen. The closer we get and the bigger it is, the more individual cubes it will take up. And, remember, up here it doesn’t take long to cover lots of ground. But the thing’s still gotta be centered in the square to be sure of a hit. Savvy?”

Blaine shrugged. “It would seem a lot safer for you to do the shootin’, Sheriff.”

“I’ve got to drive this baby.”

“What about your deputy over there?” Blaine asked, head tilting toward the copilot.

“He’s gotta track the damn thing and adjust sensor and deflector shield levels.”

“Deflector shields? What is this, another of the continuing voyages of the starship
Enterprise
!”

“We’re well on the way to that, Blaine, but don’t be too impressed. The deflector shields are just a new toy that work on reverse polarity and it’s not quite perfected yet. We’d be best off not to rely on them.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to.”

It was 7:52. The Philippines were drawing slowly closer. From this altitude the Pacific looked like a beautiful blue blanket.

Blaine’s chair was set back from the pilot’s and copilot’s, and the weapons mechanism was built into what might have been a sloping desk within easy reach. He shifted about uncomfortably, growing eager for the confrontation that was about to come. His eyes looked out through the shuttle’s elaborate windshield, searching for something, anything. In the profound darkness of space, objects not producing their own light were virtually invisible. If the killer satellite were painted black, it could be almost on top of them and they wouldn’t be able to see it.

“I’d better check in with Houston,” Petersen announced.

McCracken’s fingers flirted with the joysticks.

“Houston, this is
Pegasus
. We’re just reaching the Philippines now. I’m gonna fire the maneuvering rockets, bring her around, and hold steady as she goes.”

“
Pegasus
, this is Houston. We read you but you’re a bit garbled. Could you repeat your last sentence?”

“I said I’m gonna bring her around and—”

At the command center in Houston static drowned out the final part of Petersen’s sentence. The interference was getting stronger now. All eyes rose from their terminals and gazed up at the world’s most sophisticated radar board responsible for monitoring the shuttle and anything near it. At present it showed only a single blue blip to indicate
Pegasus
.

“
Pegasus
, does your board show anything?”

“Say again, Houston,” requested Petersen through static.

“Is there anything on your board?”

The copilot shook his head. Petersen gave the response. “Negative, Houston. Nothing.” His last word was indistinguishable to the men on Earth.

“
Pegasus
, you’re breaking up. We’ve lost your television transmission. Repeat, your television transmission is scrambled. … What’s going on up there?
Pegasus
, please acknowledge.”

Static was the only response.

“
Pegasus
, please acknowledge.”

More static. The shuttle’s existence was reduced to a tiny blue blip on a huge screen. Every eye in mission control was locked on it, searching for reassurance, fighting against the panic each felt.

“Oh, my God,” Nathan Jamrock said out loud. A handful of Rolaids slipped to the floor. “It’s happening again.”

“Houston do you read me? This is
Pegasus.
… Come in, Houston.” Petersen finished bringing the shuttle around in a 180-degree turn, so it was now moving backward in its orbit, and looked at McCracken grimly. “We’ve lost them.”

“What happens now?”

Blaine could see Petersen swallow hard. “We hold our course as best we can. The thing should be here any second.”

A red light started flashing on the copilot’s warning board, and a beep started sounding.

“Captain,” the copilot called, “sensors have locked on to something.”

“Where?”

“Twenty thousand meters behind, in front now, and closing.”

“Switch on front deflector shields.” Then, to Blaine, “Looks like the fucker’s about to show itself.” And he pressed a button that activated the weapons system.

The copilot hit four switches, lighting a green signal under each.

“Shields in place, Captain.”

Petersen’s eyes strained out the viewing panels. “Come on out, you bastard,” he urged the thing.

“Fifteen thousand meters, Captain.”

“What’s its heading?”

The copilot hesitated. “Direct intercept.”

Petersen raised his eyebrows. “Looks like it’s gonna be eyeball to eyeball, Blaine. Flip your visor down and get ready on those guns.”

Blaine grabbed the joysticks between warm, sweat-soaked hands and locked his eyes on the now functioning targeting screen. Something had started to fill in the squares.

“Range ten thousand meters,” said the copilot. “Still closing. Should be in view any— Oh my Christ …”

The three men gazed out the shuttle’s windshield and saw it together. The killer satellite looked like a giant bullet rotating in the sky, at least as tall as
Pegasus
was long. Starting about two thirds of the way down its sleek, dark structure were thick legs like landing nodules linked together in a maze of wire and steel. Its lower third appeared to be wider than the top.

“Looks like somebody fired it out of a fuckin’ giant cannon,” muttered Petersen.

“Range seventy-five hundred meters …”

McCracken was working the joysticks feverishly now, trying to capture the killer satellite in the center of the square. It kept eluding him, changing direction to match
Pegasus
’s orbit, these slight alterations throwing the weapons’ sensors off.

“I can’t get a fix!” he complained into his helmet, licking the sweat from his upper lip.

“Range five thousand meters and … slowing.” The copilot swung toward Petersen. “The damn thing’s slowing, Captain.”

“Get your fix, Blaine!” Petersen ordered. “For God’s sake, shoot the fucker out of the sky!”

Before McCracken could fire, the thing came to almost a complete stop relative to them in space. Cylindrical attachments popped free of its sides and spread like a fan. The attachments were reflective. The center base rotated, its blackness abandoned for the same shiny surface its extended sides were composed of.

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Petersen.

McCracken gained a brief fix on the satellite and hit both joystick buttons. A pair of ice-blue rays shot out from either side of the shuttle, angling toward intercept right smack in the center of the adversary. Blaine could feel his smile forming.

But not for long. The lasers’ rays bounced off the reflective surface like light off a mirror and cascaded through space.

“Aim higher!” Petersen ordered. “We got to find a weakness in— What the …”

McCracken saw the flash coming from the satellite what felt like a second before it impacted. His face shield went opaque for an instant, saving him from blindness, while
Pegasus
shook violently. Pieces of white surface material flew off, soaring past the viewing windows.

“We’re breaking up!” Blaine screamed.

“It’s the heat shield,” Petersen corrected him as he struggled to maintain the shuttle’s balance. “Pieces of it anyway. Not enough to do us much harm.”

“Jesus …”

“Deflector shields?” Petersen asked the copilot.

“Still holding. I’ve got four green lights.”

The killer satellite sent out another charge, catching
Pegasus
just as Petersen lowered her into an evasive dip. Impact rocked her hard and Blaine’s head snapped back in a whiplash. Vibrations rattled through the shuttle, forcing his teeth to clamp together.

“We’ve lost a deflector shield!” the copilot reported, his eyes on a red light that had joined the three green ones.

“I’m gonna rotate the ship to protect the side with the lost shield,” Petersen said, starting the maneuver.

The killer satellite angled itself for another attack. Its shape flirted with the targeting grid square on Blaine’s screen but never quite locked in. He fired on timing and again a pair of ice-blue rays shot out, joining up on one of the thing’s winglike extensions. Once more a dazzling display of white light exploded outward, individual streams crossing and converging into the blackness of space.

“Range thirty-five hundred meters …”

The satellite fired another of what Petersen could only identify as some kind of energy torpedo. Again their visors turned opaque, saving them from the bright flash which seemed everywhere at once, enveloping all of
Pegasus
in its white-hot aura. The shuttle shook the hardest it had yet, and felt as if it were stumbling in space. The cabin lights flickered, faded, came back on.

“Main battery’s shorted out!” the copilot screeched. “We’re running on emergency power. Second deflector shield’s gone and a third’s weakening!”

“Don’t tell me,” Blaine interrupted, “we can’t take another hit like that one. Scotty, where are you when we need you? Beam us the hell out of here.” Then something occurred to him. “Get me closer to it,” he told Petersen.

“You crazy?”

“Absolutely. Give me a shot at a closer hit.”

Petersen pulled back to minimum speed as his wounded bird continued to float backward in orbit. “Just so you remember it’ll have a closer shot at us too. …”

“Range twenty-five hundred meters,” the copilot reported. “It’s gaining. Two thousand …”

Blaine caught the satellite within his square and fired both cannons. The lasers blasted into the metallic skin, the resulting parade of shooting lights brighter and eerier since
Pegasus
was closer to them. A few seemed to pass right by the viewing panels, looking like the tails of an all-white fireworks display.

A blinding flash erupted from the satellite’s center. Blaine involuntarily raised his hand to his eyes to shield them. He had barely gotten it up, when the blast came. The copilot’s head slammed against the instrument panel, opening up an ugly gash on his forehead. Once again the cockpit lighting faded and came back on dimmer.