[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
unfolding muddiness ahead.
"Vandenberg, MU87 is five south at three hundred feet en route Vandenberg,
following railroad tracks."
Incredibly, a voice answered. "Roger, MU87. You're expected. Barometer is
twenty-nine point five-
five and falling, visibility three hundred feet to occasionally zero, ceiling
indefinite at around two hundred, gusting winds quartering from twenty-five to
forty knots. If able, continue along tracks until you have visual. I don't
Page 149
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
think you're going to like this. Over."
"Not many options here. What aids do we have?"
"ILS is out, and GPS is crazy. We're having trouble with the VASI lights and
runway lights. You should be able to see the launch complex towers; they're
still lighted. When they're to your right, fly three-forty degrees for one
minute, then start a right standard-rate turn to heading one-sixty-two. When
you cross the railroad tracks, the runway is a half mile farther. Report abeam
the launch complex. Over."
"Roger that."
The thought came to Keene out of nowhere that the spontaneous urge to help
others just because they were also humans was what Sariena had been trying to
explain all along. To the Kronians it
file:///F|/rah/James%20P.%20Hogan/Hogan,%20James%20P%20-%20Cradle%20of%20Satur
n.txt (130 of 209) [2/4/03 10:52:38 PM]
file:///F|/rah/James%20P.%20Hogan/Hogan,%20James%20P%20-%20Cradle%20of%20Satur
n.txt was simply a natural expression of what being human meant. Why, here,
did it always seem to have wait for a war or some kind of disaster? A pool of
lights curdled together oozed through the darkness on Keene's side of the
plane; then another.
"Vandenberg, we're abeam the complex, turning three-forty degrees."
"Roger. We don't have you yet. Turn your landing lights on."
"Roger, lights. No joy on the runway. We should be on final."
"Keep the complex on your right and watch for the tracks."
"We just crossed the tracks. It splits, and both tracks go south on my left.
Still no runway."
"MU87, the tracks should be on your right ON YOUR RIGHT! BANK LEFT, BANK
LEFT!"
The left side of the world fell away, and the haze racing through the landing
light beams streamed sideways as the pilot threw the plane into a turn that
seemed to bring it head-on into a succession of buffeting humps in the air;
then the pattern reversed itself as they quickly rolled level again. The end
of a strip marked by a few dim lights slid into view in Keene's window.
"Runway to the right!" he shouted, pointing frantically. The plane banked in
the opposite direction, held for a few agonizing seconds while the airscrew
clawed and the overloaded control surfaces hauled it around, and then leveled
out again just as the wheels thudded against solid ground. The center line was
off to the left, but the Cessna had sufficient room and slowed to taxiing
speed without mishap. Charlie Hu emitted an audible, shaky sigh somewhere in
the shadows behind. Keene found that his palms were sweaty and he had been
unconsciously rubbing them on his knees.
"Okay, we're down. Still can't see much, though. . . . Oh, wait a sec. We have
headlights ahead."
"That's a follow-me truck. Follow it to parking and remain on this frequency.
And welcome to
Vandenberg."
The truck led them off via a connecting ramp to a taxiway. A large military
transport silhouetted in the gloom began rolling forward to takeoff position.
As the Cessna moved on by, two more transports became visible, waiting behind.
Everything that could move, it seemed, was being got out before the wind front
moved in.
* * *
Colonel Lacey was a big man with wide, pale eyes set in a florid, fleshy face,
lank ginger hair, and a matching toothbrush mustache. Or maybe his hair just
appeared lank from his running his fingers through it countless times, as
seemed to be his habit when considering a decision, through who-knew-how-many
hours of the night and probably the day before. He looked haggard, with dark
scores underneath the pale eyes and perspiration stains showing through the
shirt of his crumpled uniform. Frequently, when a moment presented itself, he
Page 150
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
would close his eyes and draw in a long breath, as if to gain a few seconds of
respite. He was also, Keene could tell though doing a commendable job of
containing it very scared.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]