scoonts.theminotaur-第52部分

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m　they　could　stand　with　shoulder　to　shoulder　or　disavow　as　a　crazed　maverick；　whichever　way　the　cookie　crumbled。　They　would　throw　him　to　the　sharks　without　a　second　thought　if　they　concluded　that　course　looked　best。　Too　bad；　but　he　always　was　an　officer　who　couldn't　take　orders；　not　a　team　player。　And　after　that　El　Hakim　thing；　a　bad　concussion；　psychiatrists；　he　was　never　right　in　the　head。　Too　bad。
　These　powerful　people　whose　boats　would　start　leaking　when　the　Athena　secret　came　out；　what　would　they　do？　Fight。　How？　What　would　be　their　weapons？
　The　dirt　escaping　his　fingers　made　a　sculpted　pile。　The　wind　swirled　away　a　portion　of　each　handful。　The　slower　the　dirt　trickled　from　his　fingers；　the　more　of　it　the　wind　claimed。
　The　most　probable　argument；　Jake　decided；　was　that　Athena　would　destabilize　the　existing　East…West　military　balance。　This　argument　had　finesse。　Athena　was　too　cheap　to　argue　the　dollars。　So　argue　the　consequences。　Argue　that　Athena　pushes　Russia　closer　to　a　first　strike。　Argue　nuclear　war　and　radioactive　ashes　and　the　Four　Horsemen。　If　you　can't　dazzle　them　with　logic　or　baffle　them　with　bullshit；　then　scare　the　bejesus　out　of　them。
　Jake　stood　and　stirred　the　pile　of　dust　with　his　toe。　The　wind　carried　it　away　grain　by　grain。
　
　It　was　late　afternoon；　on　the　third　flight　of　the　day；　and　Rita　was　flying　straight　legs　north　and　south；　each　leg　one　mile　farther　west　of　the　radar　site。　Toad　was　bored。　He　was　using　the　navigation　system　to　ensure　she　stayed　precisely　where　Captain　Grafton　wanted　her　to　be。　That　was　the　hard　part。　After　he　had　turned　on　the　Athena　system　there　was　nothing　to　do　but　monitor　its　〃operating〃　light。　He　did　keep　an　eye　on　the　Athena　temp　light；　so　if　it　came　on　he　could　turn　off　the　system　in　a　smart；　military　manner。　For　this　the　U。S。　Navy　was　using　its　best　Naval　Flight　Officer；　a　professional　aerial　warrior。　Peace　is　hell。
　Off　to　the　west；　down　on　the　desert；　was　a　long　shadow　cast　by　the　two…story　black　windowless　building　that　constituted　the　only　structure　in　the　town　known　as　Deegon's　Well。　That　building　was　a　whorehouse。　Presumably　it　also　contained　the　office　of　the　mayor　and　the　rest　of　the　municipal　employees。　From　this　distance　it　appeared　to　be　just　a　tiny　box　on　the　desert。　He　knew　it　was　painted　black　and　had　two　stories　and　no　windows　because　he　had　once　inspected　it　from　the　parking　lot　in　front。　Just　a　tourist；　of　course。
　He　keyed　his　ICS　mike　to　call　Rita's　attention　to　this　famous　landmark；　but　thought　better　of　it。
　Rita　was　checking　the　fuel　remaining　in　the　various　tanks。　He　pressed　his　head　against　the　radar　hood　and　examined　the　cursor　position。
　He　heard　a　whump；　a　loud；　loose　whump；　and　instantaneously　the　air　pressure　and　noise　level　rose　dramatically。　Something　struck　him。　He　jerked　his　head　back　from　the　hood　and　looked　around　wildly。
　The　wind　howled；　shrieked；　screamed；　even　through　his　helmet。　Rita　was　back　against　her　seat；　slumped　down；　covered　with　gore；　her　right　hand　groping　wildly　for　her　face。
　A　bird！　They　had　hit　a　bird。
　He　keyed　the　ICS　without　conscious　thought　and　said　her　name。　He　couldn't　hear　the　sound　of　his　own　voice。
　The　plane　was　rolling　off　on　one　wing；　the　nose　dipping。　He　used　his　left　hand　to　grab　the　stick　between　Rita's　knees　and　center　it。
　Slow　down。　They　had　to　slow　down；　had　to　lessen　the　velocity　of　the　wind　funneling　through　that　smashed…out　left　quarter　panel。　The　bird　must　have　e　through　there　and　crashed　against　Rita　as　she　bent　over　the　fuel　management　panel　on　the　left　console。
　He　pulled　back　on　the　stick　to　bring　the　nose　up　into　a　climb　and　concentrated　on　keeping　the　wings　level。　Higher。　Higher。　Twenty　degrees　nose…up。　Airspeed　dropping：　250　indicated；　240；　230…he　should　drop　the　gear　and　flaps；　get　this　flying　pig　slowed　way　down…210　knots。
　The　gear　handle　was　on　the　left　side　of　the　instrument　panel；　right　under　the　hole　where　the　plexiglas　quarter　panel　used　to　be；　right　under　that　river　of　air　that　was　pressurizing　the　cockpit。
　He　tried　to　reach　it。　Just　beyond　his　fingertips。　Harness　release　unlocked。　No　go。　Juggling　the　stick　with　his　left　hand；　he　used　his　right　to　release　the　two　Koch　fittings　on　the　top　of　his　torso　harness。　If　the　seat　fired　now　he　wouldn't　have　a　parachute。　He　reached　again。　Nope。　He　was　going　to　have　to　unfasten　the　Koch　fittings　that　held　his　bottom　to　the　ejection　seat　With　fingers　that　were　all　thumbs　he　released　the　two　catches；　then　attacked　the　bayonet　fittings　on　his　oxygen　mask。　Might　as　well　get　it　off　too。　He　jerked　loose　the　cord　that　went　to　the　earphones　in　his　helmet。
　Damn…he　was　stalling。　He　could　feel　the　buffet　and　the　nose　pitched　forward。　He　let　it　go　down　and　got　some　airspeed；　then　eased　it　back。
　He　was　having　difficulty　holding　the　wings　level。　Power　at　about　86　percent　on　both　engines。　That　was　okay。　But　the　smell…Jesus　God！
　The　overpowering　odor　made　his　eyes　water。　He　tried　to　breathe　only　through　his　mouth。
　No　longer　restrained　by　the　inertia　reel　in　the　ejection　seat；　he　grasped　the　stick　with　his　right　hand　and　stretched　across　with　his　left　to　the　gear　handle　and　slapped　it　down。
　Now　for　the　flaps。　He　was　lying　across　the　center　console；　trying　to　keep　his　head　out　of　the　wind　blast　as　be　felt　for　the　flap　lever　beside　the　throttle　quadrant。　Leave　the　throttles　alone。　Get　the　flaps　down　to　thirty　degrees。　Fumbling；　he　pulled　the　lever　aft。
　Toad　was　overcorrecting　with　the　stick　as　he　fought　to　keep　the　wings　level；　first　too　much　one　way；　then　too　much　the　other。　Goddamn；　those　peckerhead　pilots　do　this　without　even　thinking　about　it。
　There！　Gear　down　and　locked。　Flaps　and　slats　out；　stabilator　shifted。　Hallelujah。
　He　glanced　up　at　Rita。　She　had　shit　and　blood　and　gore　all　over　her　face　and　shoulders。　Feathers。　They　were　everywhere！
　Her　helmet…it　was　twisted　sideways。　Using　glances；　he　tried　to　wipe　off　the　worst　of　the　crap　with　his　left　hand　as　he　concentrated　on　holding　the　plane　straight　and　level：　140　knots　now；　8；300　feet　on　the　altimeter。　Conditions　in　the　cockpit　were　a　lot　better。
　Were　there　any　mountains　this　high　around　here？　He　couldn't　remember；　and　he　couldn't　see　over　the　top　of　the　instrument　panel；　bent　over　the　way　he　was。
　First　things　first。　He　twisted　her　helmet　back　straight。　The　face　shield　was　shattered；　broken；　but　it　had　protected　her　face　and　eyes　from　the　worst　of　the　impact
　She　was　dazed。　She　damn　well　better　e　out　of　it　quick；　because　he　sure　couldn't　land　this　plane。
　Her　right　eye　was　covered　with　goo；　whether　hers　or　the　bird's　be　couldn't　tell。　He　wiped　at　it　with　his　gloved　fingers。　The　bird's。
　Her　left　eye　was　clear　but　unfocused；　bunking　like　crazy。　〃C'mon；　Rita　baby。　I　can't　keep　flying　this　thing！〃　In　his　frustration　he　shouted。　She　couldn't　hear　him。
　Back　to　the　panel：　135　knots。　Maybe　he　could　engage　the　autopilot。
　Yeah；　the　autopilot。　If　it　would　work。　He　jabbed　at　the　switches　and　released　the　stick　experimentally。　Yeah！　Hot　damn！　It　engaged。
　He　devoted　his　attention　to　her。　Cuffed　her　gently；　rubbed　her　cheeks。　She　shook　her　head　and　raised　her　right　hand　to　her　face。
　He　got　himself　rearranged　in　his　seat　and　held　his　mask　to　his　face。　〃Rita？〃　Nothing。　No　sound　in　his　ears。　Now　what？　He　had　forgotten　to　plug　the　cord　to　his　helmet　back　in。　He　did　so。　〃Goddamnit；　Rita；〃　he　roared。　〃Snap　out　of　it。〃
　Someone　was　talking　on　the　radio。　He　listened。　He　could　hear　the　words　now。　It　was　Grafton。　Toad　keyed　the　radio　mike。　〃We　took　a　bird　hit。　Rita's　a　little　dazed。　We're　going　to　land　at　Fallen　when　she　es　around。〃
　〃Understand　you　took　a　bird。　Where？〃
　〃Right　in　the　cockpit；　CAG。　Hit　Rita　in　the　head。　We're　going　to　Fallen　when　she　es　around。　Now　I'm　leaving　this　freq　and　calling　Fallen　on　Guard。〃　Without　waiting　for　a　reply；　he　jabbed　the　channelization　switches　and　called　Fallen　tower。　〃Fallen　tower；　this　is　Misty　22　on　Guard。　Mayday。　We're　fifteen　or　twenty　mites　out。　Roll　the　crash　truck。〃
　Which　way　are　we　heading？　120　degrees。　He　tugged　the　stick　to　the　right　and　settled　into　a　ten…degree　turn；　which　the　autopilot　held。　Fallen　was　off　to　the　west　here　somewhere。　He　craned　to　see　over　the　instrument　panel　in　that　direc