for the night. How? I don’t know. That’s your department. Obviously we’re not taking United. We get to spend Christmas night in Guayaquil, lovely polluted industry town and cultural hub of the uni-verse. We’re picking up Dr. Juan Ramirez, a professor of ecology at Uni-versidad de Guayaquil, who will be assisting me in my objectives. Then we’re flying to Baltra, which houses the only operating airport in Galápa-gos. It’s a former U.S. Army base, so that should float your respective boats.”
Savage belched. Rex elected to ignore him.
“Then we’ll need to establish our telemetry gear at the Darwin Station on Santa Cruz, scold whoever’s left in the seismology department for letting their operation go to shit, and we’re on our way to Sangre de Dios where I’ll be undertaking the extraordinarily ambitious and impressive task of outfitting the island with geodetic trinkets and toys—six Global Positioning Satellite units, to be precise.”
“What’s the terrain?” Cameron asked.
“Quite varied. From scorched lava to dense forests.”
“We bringing NVGs?” Szabla asked.
Rex shot Derek a puzzled look. “Night Vision Goggles,” Derek explained. He turned to Szabla. “No. It’s not triple canopy, and we’re set-ting the GPS units during the day. We don’t need to be tricked out for combat—it’s not exactly a hot area.”
Szabla leaned back in her chair, placing her arms behind her neck and flexing. “How do the units work?”
Rex said, “They measure the rates of the land’s deformation. We need six to form a network. They’ll relay information to the Darwin Station, and the scientists there will, in turn, forward the information to us via
computer.”
“Why don’t you just have the information relayed directly here?”
“Unfortunately, the telemetry equipment isn’t that sophisticated. It only relays information along line of sight. The distance from Ecuador to Sacramento is great enough that the curvature would throw off the transmissions.”
“Curvature?” Tucker asked.
“The earth is round,” Rex said, with a sardonic grin.
Tucker pressed his lips together. “Oh, yeah.”
Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I understand transportation around the islands is a problem?”
“Yes, but I’ve arranged it all after we hit Baltra—it’s just the airports that are tangled in military red tape. Boating between islands is a logisti-cal pain in the ass, but not a political one.” Rex turned to face the others. “In all, it’s an eight-day trip—two days transport out, four days on San-gre, one day back. If all goes well, we’ll be back for New Year’s. Your job is to make sure I don’t get shot, stabbed, or drawn and quartered in Guayaquil, to get me through the airports without any cavity searches, and to help me blanket Sangre de Dios and get the gear in place.”
“Aren’t there scientists out there already who can do this?” Cameron asked. “And save us the trip?”
“That’s a very good question, Miss...” Rex looked at her expectantly.
“Chief,” Cameron said. “Kates. But Cameron will do just fine. And a straightforward answer without the condescension.”
Rex whistled. “Lo siento mucho.”
“No problema.”
Rex suppressed a smile as he leaned forward. “All right, Cameron. The reason the scientists there can’t take care of it is because their fund-ing, as you can imagine, has gone to even further shit as a result of the economic turmoil, and they can barely afford upkeep, let alone cutting-edge technology. Shipping’s gone to hell, so we can’t send the equipment down to them. We can hardly get through via phone, fax, or E-mail just to find out what the hell’s going on. On top of all that, they’re fleeing the islands in droves.”
“Why?” Cameron asked.
“Because they’re not as courageous as we are.” Rex smiled. “Or as stupid. ‘The few, the proud...’”
“That’s the Marines,” Szabla
Savage belched. Rex elected to ignore him.
“Then we’ll need to establish our telemetry gear at the Darwin Station on Santa Cruz, scold whoever’s left in the seismology department for letting their operation go to shit, and we’re on our way to Sangre de Dios where I’ll be undertaking the extraordinarily ambitious and impressive task of outfitting the island with geodetic trinkets and toys—six Global Positioning Satellite units, to be precise.”
“What’s the terrain?” Cameron asked.
“Quite varied. From scorched lava to dense forests.”
“We bringing NVGs?” Szabla asked.
Rex shot Derek a puzzled look. “Night Vision Goggles,” Derek explained. He turned to Szabla. “No. It’s not triple canopy, and we’re set-ting the GPS units during the day. We don’t need to be tricked out for combat—it’s not exactly a hot area.”
Szabla leaned back in her chair, placing her arms behind her neck and flexing. “How do the units work?”
Rex said, “They measure the rates of the land’s deformation. We need six to form a network. They’ll relay information to the Darwin Station, and the scientists there will, in turn, forward the information to us via
computer.”
“Why don’t you just have the information relayed directly here?”
“Unfortunately, the telemetry equipment isn’t that sophisticated. It only relays information along line of sight. The distance from Ecuador to Sacramento is great enough that the curvature would throw off the transmissions.”
“Curvature?” Tucker asked.
“The earth is round,” Rex said, with a sardonic grin.
Tucker pressed his lips together. “Oh, yeah.”
Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I understand transportation around the islands is a problem?”
“Yes, but I’ve arranged it all after we hit Baltra—it’s just the airports that are tangled in military red tape. Boating between islands is a logisti-cal pain in the ass, but not a political one.” Rex turned to face the others. “In all, it’s an eight-day trip—two days transport out, four days on San-gre, one day back. If all goes well, we’ll be back for New Year’s. Your job is to make sure I don’t get shot, stabbed, or drawn and quartered in Guayaquil, to get me through the airports without any cavity searches, and to help me blanket Sangre de Dios and get the gear in place.”
“Aren’t there scientists out there already who can do this?” Cameron asked. “And save us the trip?”
“That’s a very good question, Miss...” Rex looked at her expectantly.
“Chief,” Cameron said. “Kates. But Cameron will do just fine. And a straightforward answer without the condescension.”
Rex whistled. “Lo siento mucho.”
“No problema.”
Rex suppressed a smile as he leaned forward. “All right, Cameron. The reason the scientists there can’t take care of it is because their fund-ing, as you can imagine, has gone to even further shit as a result of the economic turmoil, and they can barely afford upkeep, let alone cutting-edge technology. Shipping’s gone to hell, so we can’t send the equipment down to them. We can hardly get through via phone, fax, or E-mail just to find out what the hell’s going on. On top of all that, they’re fleeing the islands in droves.”
“Why?” Cameron asked.
“Because they’re not as courageous as we are.” Rex smiled. “Or as stupid. ‘The few, the proud...’”
“That’s the Marines,” Szabla
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