Offworld (36 page)

"This is Burke," Chris said into the radio.

"Captain, are you and your people well?" Roston asked
cordially.

"Spit and polish, Colonel," he replied. "Is this a courtesy call?"

"Of a fashion," said Roston. "I wanted to ask you one last timegive you a final chance-to stay out of this. I don't know where you
are, but I know you're not in Houston, and that's fine by me. Stay
away. Go to D.C., visit New York, go back to Orlando. Go to Disney
World and ride every ride until you're sick. But whatever you do ...
please, for your own safety, keep out of Houston. You have no idea
the ramifications your involvement could cause."

"Then why don't you tell me?"

"My men are patrolling the streets of Houston as we speak, en
masse, and they have orders to shoot you on sight. I didn't want
it to come to this, but I will not compromise the integrity of what
we're doing."

"My friends and I are astronauts," said Chris, eyeing Trisha and Terry as he spoke. "That makes us explorers by nature. When there's
something new on the horizon, we don't know how to stay away.
And if I were you, I'd tell your people to stop patrolling and start
hunting. Because I am hunting you, Colonel. And the next time you
and I speak, it's going to be face-to-face."

Chris twisted the knob atop the radio, turning it off.

"Was that wise?" Trisha asked.

"Seemed like it at the time," Chris replied, invigorated by the
conversation. There would be no ambiguity between himself and
Roston, no matter how much flattery the colonel threw his way. The
line had just been drawn, and he was the one to draw it.

"I love it," Terry remarked, grinning. "Roston'll work his people
into a frenzy trying to find us. Plus we have surprise on our side;
they don't know what we're going to do exactly, where we'll turn
up, or when."

Trisha let out a deep breath. "True, but Roston has an army, with
who knows how many soldiers with big weapons and no one to
shoot them at ... until we conveniently fell out of the sky."

Her words were sobering. Terry had no reply, but Chris was
undeterred.

"They have to catch us first," said Chris, steely-eyed.

At Chris' insistence, the two-jeep caravan took a circuitous route
to Houston. Rather than return to westbound Highway 10, they followed the lower edge of Lake Anahuac, swinging south through
Baytown along 146 and finally west again onto Highway 6.

It was the long way around, but approaching Houston from the
south was not only the safest option, Highway 146 would take them
very close to Johnson Space Center, their own stomping grounds.
Owen still suspected that Johnson was not the source of the light,
but Chris agreed it was best to get close enough to be sure. They wouldn't risk stopping there, though. It was one of the first places
Roston would be expecting them to go.

Very little was said, though they were free to speak into their
earpieces without being overheard now; Trisha had pointed out
before their departure that the tiny radios they used had scramblers
built in, so they could input their own code on each unit and keep
outsiders from hearing them.

As they neared the city limits, the beacon became blinding,
extending vertically from somewhere near the center of town to
well above the clouds. Owen noted that there were boxes under
every seat in the two jeeps, holding tinted visors, which he surmised
Roston and his men were using to avoid damaging their eyes against
the beacon's light. Everyone put on a pair.

The light was illuminating the city of Houston brighter than the
sun ever could. It was a remarkable thing to see up close. There
were no shadows cast by anything-not cars, trees, buildings, or
even road signs. The light touched everything on all sides.

It took less than an hour to reach Johnson after they departed from
Anahuac, and they didn't stop as they sped by the space administration's facilities. Traffic around Houston had been heavy on D-Day,
so it wasn't easy going around the stopped vehicles, and more than
once Chris led them off-road.

But Johnson was quiet, abandoned, and it was not the source of
the light. It did, however, provide them with a direction; the beacon
was situated far in the distance behind Johnson as they passed it by,
putting it close to downtown.

They came to a large intersection, where visibility on all sides
was improved.

"Beech?" Chris called out, bringing his vehicle to a careful
stop.

"I see them," Owen replied.

To their distant left, a pair of identical black jeeps were winding through the stopped traffic. It was the first sign of Roston's soldiers
they'd seen.

Chris glanced at Trisha, and she glanced back. Their jeep's tinted
windows would hide their identities from Roston's men.

"Don't stop, keep going," Chris suddenly said, pushing down on
the accelerator again.

"They'll see us," said Terry from the other vehicle.

"That's the idea," Trisha replied, explaining so Chris could concentrate on driving. "If we're moving, we're just another pair of jeeps
on patrol. Like them."

"Won't they try and radio us?" Terry replied. "Roston knows we
have two of his jeeps"

Chris didn't reply, but he knew Terry was right. And they didn't
bring the stolen enemy radio with them; it had been left in the
kitchen at the farmhouse. Which meant Roston's soldiers wouldn't
get a confirmation reply, effectively painting a bright red target on
Chris and Owen's vehicles.

"Just pray they don't," said Trisha.

Ahead was an intersection, and the enemy jeeps were pushing
toward it as fast as Chris and Owen were. At their current rates of
speed, they would cross paths in mere seconds. Slowing down or
turning before they reached the intersection would be a clear giveaway; Chris decided they couldn't risk it.

The enemy jeep driving in front flashed its headlights, twice.

He and Trisha looked at each other, surprised. That wasn't what
they'd expected.

"They're telling us to go through the crossway first," Trisha said.
"See? They're slowing down"

"What if it's a code Roston gave them?" Chris asked as their
car crept closer to the intersection and the enemy jeeps rolled to a
stop. " `Flash your lights to prove you're one of us.' I should flash
back...."

Trisha was breathing fast as she grabbed his hand before it reached the headlight control. "No, if Roston gave them a code for
flashing their headlights at each other, it would make more sense for
him to tell his men not to flash their lights in reply. He'd expect us
to respond, so if you do it back to them, they'll know it's us."

Chris was uncertain, his heart pounding hard. His hand hesitated, hovering next to the headlight control. They were almost at
the intersection now. "Unless Roston knows we would figure that
out, and told his men to reply to each other by flashing their lights
hack...

"Oh for crying out loud!" Trisha screamed. Just keep going!"

Chris pushed the accelerator harder, and Owen lurched faster
behind them, keeping up. They sped past the two enemy jeeps and
kept going.

Trisha spun in her seat, then closed her eyes and leaned back,
relaxing. "They're not following."

"It might be a good idea," said Owen's deep vocal tone in their
ears, "to change vehicles."

"No need," replied Chris. "Once we get the chance, we're going
to change tactics."

An hour later, the five of them approached the beacon on foot
from the south, moving as stealthily as they could through the city.
Row after row of residences and foliage covered their movements,
though crossing the street proved challenging. The closer they got to
the light, the more of Roston's men there were. They were coming
and going, some on foot, others in jeeps, but all on the lookout. There
were hundreds of them. No matter where Chris directed everyone
to stop and hide, movement from another direction quickly made
that spot exposed.

All five of them still wore their eye-shielding visors, blocking
out the harmfully bright beacon of light. They also came with a full
array of handy built-in features like thermal vision and x-ray, for seeing through solid objects. Unfortunately, Roston's men were of
course using the same visors, which made their attempts to hide all
the more difficult.

Chris carried a backpack full of military-grade supplies procured from their abandoned jeeps. Everyone but Mae carried a highpowered rifle. Chris offered to show her how to use a gun, but she
picked a foot-long knife out of the back of one of the jeeps instead,
muttering something about knowing how to work it.

"The city still has no power," Owen observed as they ran as
quietly as possible, darting from one hiding place to the next.

"That's not really surprising, is it?" Terry remarked.

"No," Owen replied, "but if Roston has stationed himself at the
base of that beacon, he'd have to have electricity of some kind to
run whatever equipment and supplies he brought along."

"If he's here, then he's got generators," said Trisha.

They stopped again for a quick rest, crouching on the ground
beside a brick house. Owen leaned in and whispered to Chris, "This
is tactically unsound, Commander. If we continue northward on this
trajectory, we'll be discovered within the hour."

"Suggestion?" Chris whispered back.

"We split up," Owen said, raising a hand to steady Chris' immediate objections. "Two groups. One sticks to the ground and proceeds
north, trying to get as close as possible to the source of the light. The
other group makes for higher ground; we're only a few blocks west
of Main Street and some of the high-rises over there could provide
a better perspective."

Chris looked to Trisha and Terry and even Mae for input, but they
were silent. Trisha was holding her own, her jaw set, and though she
was sweating in the summer heat, she showed no signs of being out
of breath. Terry was sweating as well, but he looked focused, intent.
Mae was as blank and impossible to read as ever, though she was
paying close attention to every word that was said.

"It's the smart move, Chris," Owen pressed. "Five of us together are too big and too easy a target to mark. Two, moving quickly, stand
a better chance of getting up close to the base of that light."

Chris had a feeling he knew which two Owen was already thinking would make the best ground-level pair. And as usual he couldn't
argue with his friend's logic.

All right," Chris said. "You and I will continue on foot." He
let down the backpack from his shoulders and retrieved a pair of
advanced binoculars, which he handed off to Trisha. "I want you
to take Terry and Mae to Main Street and relay back to us what you
see. We're very close. Move as fast as you dare, but keep your eyes
and ears open."

Chris wished that he could see Trisha's eyes as she listened to
his instructions, but the dark glasses blocked that possibility, so he
had no idea what she was thinking or feeling. He tried his best to
hold her gaze from behind his own visor glasses as he leaned in and
whispered, "Don't take any unnecessary chances."