“My god,” said the captain, “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Goddam,” said Kelly, trying to mop his forehead and finding that he still wore the flight helmet.
There were no additional officers waiting for Kelly at the ramp of the C-141. The captain who had greeted him at the TF-104 now shepherded him onto the ramp alone. “Good luck, sir,” he said, and offered his hand.
Offhand, Kelly couldn’t remember anybody saying that – and sounding like he meant it – since this business began.
“I appreciate that,” the veteran said as they shook hands. “And – folks pretty high up” – which described the aliens as well as anything could – “tell me it’ll all be fine if I do my job. Which I do.”
“Door’s lifting,” said the loadmaster at the cargo bay’s rear control panel, but his hand did not actually hit the lifter switch until the captain had sprung back down the ramp. As the ramp started to rise, the loadmaster called a terse report on his commo helmet, glanced at Kelly, and then looked down the nearly empty cargo bay.
The benches were folded down and locked in place along both windowless sides of the fuselage. During the Starlifter’s usual ‘passenger’ operation as a troop transport, the broad central aisleway would have been loaded with munitions and heavy equipment. It was empty now. Beneath one of the benches, however, was a child’s suitcase of pink vinyl.
The loadmaster strode over to the piece of miniature luggage, jerked it from its partial concealment, and hurled it underhand toward the tail. The suitcase bounced from the ramp and out the narrowing gap to the concrete.
The C-141 was already moving, rotating outward in a manner disconcerting because nothing outside the cargo bay was visible. Kelly took off the helmet; he would not need it on this flight. The curving sides and roofline gave him the feeling of being trapped in a subway tunnel which echoed to the roar of an oncoming train.
“Well, that kid’ll need it more’n we will, won’t she?” the loadmaster demanded loudly as he walked over to the veteran. He was a burly man, unaffected by the motion of the aircraft through long familiarity.
“Got a problem, friend?” asked Kelly as he sat down on the bench. If anything did start, the bulkhead anchoring him would be better than a fair trade-off for the height advantage that he surrendered.
“You really rate, doncha?” the crewman continued. “Had ’em all aboard, over two hundred dependents. Another three minutes and we’d have been wheels-up for Rome. Then, bingo! Off-load everybody and prepare to take on a special passenger. Not, ‘a special passenger and the dependents.’ Oh, no. And the ones who don’t move quick enough, there’s nightsticks to move ’em along. So my wife and kids are out there on the fuckin’ pad, and you’ve got the plane to yourself, buddy.”
“Think Rome’s going to be a great place if they nuke it?” Kelly asked in a tone of cool curiosity. His right hand gripped the strap of the helmet, ready to use it as a club if things worked out that way.
“I’d be with them, at least,” the loadmaster said harshly.
“There’s people who think if I get back to the World quick enough, there won’t be any more nukes,” Kelly snapped in a voice that could have been heard over gunfire. He stood, dropping the helmet because it wasn’t going to be needed. “Who the fuck do you think I am, Sergeant? Some politician running home from a junket? Don’t you want this shit to stop?”
The loadmaster blinked and backed a step. “Oh,” he said. “Ah …”
“Christ, I’m sorry, buddy,” Kelly said, looking down as if he were embarrassed. “Look, I’m really tight. I left some people behind too, and – ” He raised his eyes and met the crewman’s in false candor. ” – Wasn’t a great place, you know? Even if this other crap quiets down.”
“Ah. . . .” said the crewman. “Aw, hell, we’re all jumpy. You know how it is.” He tried out a rather careful smile. “Want to go forward before we lift?”
“Lemme strip this suit off,” the veteran answered with an equally abashed smile, textured for the use. “After we get the wheels up, I’ll go say ‘hi’ . . . but this is the part of the plane I’m used to.”