Deep Black

39

Even Malachi balked at the plan when they conferenced in the Art Room with the Desk Three team. The team needed to get by an SA-6 missile battery with a helicopter — not an easy prospect without eliminating the battery, but doing so seemed almost impossible from the ground.

“So let’s get it from the air,” said Tommy Karr cheerfully.

“Can we?” Telach asked Malachi, who was sitting in the Art Room for the conference.

There was no time to get an F-47C into position, let alone the larger A-7 space plane. That left the Space Platforms’ Vessels.

Which weren’t armed.

He could put one through the radar van. Smack through the side with the processing gear — all he’d have to do is fry a transistor or two and the unit would be dead.

Shit, yeah.

“I can take out the SA-6 with a Vessel,” he told them.

“How?” asked Telach. Pacing in front of the blank screen at the front of the room, she looked exactly like his third-grade teacher, Mrs. Woods.

Malachi tried to ignore that. He’d had a bad experience with Mrs. Woods.

“I’ll put one of the Vessels through the radar van,” said Malachi. “Sizzle-boom, it’s gone.”

“What about the ZSU-23s?” said Rockman.

“What, the guns?” asked Karr. “Screw ’em. Fashona’ll nail the closest suckers with missiles off the Hind when he comes in.”

“Timing’s going to be tight,” said Rockman. “You have to take out the SA-6 just before the helicopter pops up to clear the fence, then get the guns.”

“You’re telling me the helicopter’s going to be on the radar screen at six feet?” asked Karr.

“The fence is twenty,” said Rockman. “And they have a second dish outside to cover just this contingency.”

“Ah, the SA-6 can’t hit shit under a hundred and fifty feet,” said Karr. “We just stay under that.”

“I can take out the processing van,” said Malachi. “Tell me the time and it’s gone.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Karr.

“Yeah, but what about the guns?” insisted Rockman.

“Those Zeus suckers?” asked Karr. “If the helo comes in right, they won’t be a problem. They don’t have a good line of fire, and besides, Fashona’ll splash them.”

“That’s not entirely true,” said Rockman. “There’s about ten seconds’ worth of exposure in and out.”

“Ah, what’s ten seconds?” said Karr.

“You know how much lead that translates into?” asked Telach.

“Enough for a coffin,” said Karr cheerfully.

Malachi leaned back in his seat, sipping his strawberry milk. A diversion in the air outside the fence, opposite the direction of the helicopter, would divert the gunners long enough for the Hind to wax them. He could self-destruct a Vessel out there, but there wouldn’t be much of a bang — the whole idea of the process was to be as unobtrusive as possible.

What if he crashed two together?

Still not much of a bang. Unless he had the boosters on them.

“I got it,” said Malachi. “Rather than using one Vessel and self-destructing, we fly two down, then have them crash into each other. Should cause some sparks.”

“How much?” asked Karr.

Malachi wasn’t sure. “I’m going to have to talk to the design people,” he told her. “May run some sims, too, see where the best impact would be and—”

“Run what you want,” said Karr. “Just as long as it happens in two hours.”

“Two hours — that’s tight, dude.” Malachi turned to the screen where he’d punched up a course earlier. “Two hours — I’d have to launch within five minutes.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Karr. “We’ll look for the bang. Update us on times when you’re ready.”