Страница 50 из 80
The old PCs—some dated to the first IBM models—provided a surprisingly solid base for him to stand on.
“Just think of how much they cost new,” said Da
Over the Southern Taiwan Strait
2115
ZEN DID ANinstrument check on the Flighthawk as he looped south of the target area, confirming that the aircraft was in the green and in good shape. Zen had flown the U/MF so long now that he had an almost extrasensory feel for it; still, as he told his young charge sitting next to him, you couldn’t take anything for granted.
“There were twelve people near the gate on that last pass,” said Kick as Zen finished his check. “That’s six more than before.”
“Uh-huh,” said Zen. “Maybe we just missed them the last time.”
“Might be. But it looks to me like they came with two more cars.”
“Probably just a shift change,” said Zen. “But let’s take another look when we swing back.”
Kaohisiung
2117
DANNY STEADIED THEviewer, completing the last of the series. Stoner had gone down toward the buildings to do more reco
“They’re on the other side of the building,” said Zen. “They have a pickup.”
“Thanks,” said Da
popped up a screen showing where his team member was. He planted a pair of his video “bugs” in the ref-use pile, then added the transmitter to the collection of discarded CPUs.
Damn thing looked right at home.
The Dreamland techies confirmed that the gear was on-line.
“So what’s inside the buildings?”
“We’re still analyzing it,” said Charlie Tombs, who was back at Dreamland handling the data flow. “Go on and get out of there.”
No shit, thought Da
“Back to the water! Go!” yelled Stoner, ru
“What the hell?” asked Da
“Go! Go!” said Stoner, and as if to punctuate his command an automatic weapon began firing from back by the warehouses.
Over the Southern Taiwan Strait
2119
ZEN HAD ALREADYstarted to bank away from the target area when he saw the explosion. He tucked back eastward and almost immediately got a warning from the computer that he was flying at the edge of their control range.
“ Pe
“Hawk leader, we’re trying. We have a request from an air traffic controller and—”
“I need you closer,” insisted Zen. “Team may be under fire.”
“Understood,” said Alou.
Zen felt the big plane sway beneath him, lurching closer to the shoreline.
“The guards are coming around toward the dock area,” said Kick, watching from the other station.
“Let’s distract them,” said Zen. He pushed the Flighthawk downward, diving toward the buildings from about eight thousand feet.
“How?” asked Kick.
“Like this,” said Zen, starting to pickle the air-defense flares.
Kaohisiung
2120
Page 161
AS THE LIGHTshow sparkled directly over the road at the front of the complex, Da
“You can’t shoot that,” Da
“It’s smoke,” said the CIA agent. “Fog up their night gear.”
He pumped a few rounds into the area back by the computer piles, in effect laying out a curtain they could escape behind.
Da
“Let’s go,” hissed Stoner.
“I am,” said Da
A machine gun?
“Our boat’s coming in!” yelled Stoner.
The warning came just in time—Da
“What the hell happened?” Sergeant Liu asked.
“One of the guards must have seen Captain Freah up on the pile,” said Stoner. “He fired a flare.”
“They were shooting at you,” said Liu.
“Guess we found the right place, huh?” asked Da
Over the Southern Taiwan Strait
2135
WHILEZEN’S FLAREShad served their purpose in momentarily distracting the guards from Da
By the time a CKKC controller came onto their frequency to ask for help searching for “possible communist intruders,” Zen realized he’d blundered. They played through, joining a search off the coast.
Page 162
“Want me to take the stick for a while?” asked Kick.
“Let me hold on to it,” said Zen. Then he reconsidered—the kid needed the time a heck of a lot more than he did, and it wasn’t like they were really going to encounter anyone.
“Yeah, good idea, Kick,” he told him, and they initiated the swap.
The radar capabilities of Pe
“Hawk leader, we have a contact on the surface that’s not supposed to be there,” said Pe
“Roger that,” said Zen. The information was fed in from the Megafortress, indicating two small boats—or possibly submarines—thirty miles directly to the west. “Kick—hop to it.”
“On it,” said the pilot.
WHILE IT WASpitch black outside, the Flighthawk visor gave Kick a view as detailed as he would have if it were high noon. Synthesized from its radar as well as IR and optical feeds, the screen showed the sky as a light gray and the water a deep blue; if he wanted, Kick could choose any of a dozen preset schemes or even customize it with a 64,000-color palette.
A bit too much choice as far as he was concerned, but what the hell.
Kick pushed forward in his seat. It was difficult to square the movements of the Megafortress with the path of the plane he was controlling. Most of Kick’s airtime had been in the cockpit of A-10As. While the Hog—the popular, though unofficial nickname had been shortened from Warthog—wasn’t particularly fast, it was highly maneuverable, and a Hog driver got used to taking g’s real fast. But this was different, bizarre in a way—he pushed his stick left and slightly forward, and his stomach began to climb nearly straight up.