Outside Gate Three, a truck filled with Air Police arrived to join the seven Marines in rounding up the incredulous FAST soldiers just as Delmaro reappeared on the screen, his face registering defeat. “Very well,” he agreed. “We have released General Ullman and are turning over our weapons.”
The other plane that had been following—a jet, from the sound—had been circling without making any further attempt to land. It broke off, finally, and flew away toward the south.
35
While the tower controllers got back to their business of dispatching the remaining transports, and ground crews towed the two recently landed aircraft into hangars for protection against the incoming storm, Keene, Colby, and Charlie Hu drove out with Lacey to meet the convoy from the north end at Gate Three, where others were appearing from inside the launch complex. The first feeble light of a restless, orange dawn was filtering through. Figures came tumbling out of vehicles laughing and back-slapping with relief after the tension, oblivious of the rising wind carrying needles of ocean spray mixed with the stinging dust. Colby went around shaking hands with the rescue team, who turned out to be a Special Forces unit that Cavan had “borrowed” from a friend in the Pentagon. Lacey poured congratulations on Lt. Penalski, who seemed slightly bewildered and not quite sure what he was supposed to have done that was exceptional. Keene sought out Gallian and Sariena to make sure they were all right, as well as others among his Kronian friends. And finally, he confronted Cavan.
“You’ve always had this habit of dropping surprises, Leo, but this time you’ve surpassed yourself,” he shouted above the wind. “Okay. How, for God’s sake?”
“Do you really want to stand out here discussing it, Landen, or shall we go inside first? I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of strong coffee. We’ve been flying supersonic for over two hours. I don’t know how that aircraft held together. An incredible machine, Landen. Enough electronics to fly itself to China. It’s a long-range bomber airframe fitted with a modified power plant for Short and Vertical Take-Off and Landing—intended for getting Rapid Deployment units to odd corners of the world fast. Called the `Rustler.’ Just what we needed.”
“Where the hell did you get it?”
“Come on, Landen. I was in the Air Force for long enough as you well know. I still have friends there. Most of them have been at their wits’ end for something useful to do in all this. They were only too willing to help. I’ve been telling you for years: I wasn’t cut out for shuffling pieces of paper around.”
A broad figure wearing a beret under the hood of a combat smock and wearing a pistol as well as carrying what looked like an Uzi came out of the background. His insignia showed him to be a major. “Seems it’s all buttoned up,” he said to Cavan. Cavan gestured toward Keene.
“This is the man in the middle of it all, Mitch. Lan, meet Major Harvey Mitchell.” They shook hands.
Following Mitch was a woman wearing some kind of cap under a fur-trimmed hood, with blond hair showing on either side of her face, tucked down into her jacket. She moved over to stand close to Cavan as they came up, and smiled. Even with the outlandish garb and the spray and the wind, the first impression that Keene registered was that she was stunningly beautiful. “Hello. You are Dr. Keene. I recognize you from the television,” she said. Despite everything, her voice was managing to laugh. Keene came close to falling instantly in love.
“Ah, yes. It’s about time that you met Alicia too,” Cavan told him.
Keene blinked. “This is Alicia? But how on earth did you find the time to collect her as well?”
“I could hardly leave her behind, Landen. There’s no telling how, or when, or even if we’ll be going back.”
They moved with the others through the gate into the launch complex. Wind whistled through the fifteen-foot-high, razor-wire-topped fence. Engines opening up for takeoff roared from somewhere behind them.
The turboprop, it turned out, had been carrying just the Kronian hostages and their escorting force. Voler and the other names involved in the plot had all been in the plane following, which had flown away. Evidently, the idea had been for the inside force to seize one of the Boxcar orbiters being readied for flight and secure the launch facility, then board the hostages and their guards, with the elite arriving last, when everything was in place.