Read Online Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning by Steve Ward - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steve Ward
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counted on when the going got rough? “Yup, that’s right, Twinky. Believe it or not, I need you.”
“No problem. What?”
“I’m gonna break into Rhani Hussein’s apartment.”
“Huh?” His eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. “Are you nuts?”
“It’s a matter of national security,” she replied. “It’s a long, complicated story, Michael. I don’t have time. . .”
His eyes lit up when she called him Michael. “Boy, this must be serious,” he said.
She decided to take a big risk. “7-3-3 wasn’t just a DROID test. We were on a Top Secret mission to rendezvous and destroy an Iranian satellite.” She looked around the room and lowered her voice. “Listen, Michael, this shit is classified, but I gotta tell someone.”
“Okay, I’m all ears.”
“It was supposed to be a weather satellite, but the CIA learned it was designed to guide nukes to targets in the United States.”
“Holy smokes, no way. I hope you’re kidding, Stick. That’s spooky.”
“No joke, Michael. Bad news is the mission failed, and that thing is still up there eyeballing every large city in America. Gleason’s balking on taking it out. We gotta do something!”She almost choked on her words.
“Yeah?” he chuckled. “Like we could save the world? So what does our good man, Rhani, have to do with all this?”
“I’m virtually certain he sabotaged the mission.”
He backed away with a confused look. “Whooa now, Stick. He may be a little weird, but he’s a United States astronaut. He’s been vetted by every security agency in this country. Anyway, how could one person pull something like that off?”
She knew it sounded paranoid, so she tried her best to explain with a calm tone, “Actually it would be quite easy for someone with knowledge of the design, someone with access to the robot. As a matter of fact he had both. He had two opportunities to fiddle with the optics on EVAs.” She quit talking when the bartender walked over.
“Wha cane ah get ya ma’am?” he asked in a slow, cowboy twang.
Christina groaned. He was a middle aged, overweight slob, practically drooling on her. He wore an apron that looked like it had been used in an autopsy. It barely covered a huge belly swollen from years of guzzling suds. Gees, run for cover, he could burst at any moment , she mused. “Nothing, sir, I won’t be here long. Thanks just the same.”
He lumbered back to the bar with a look of disgust. “Y’all come in here and squak yer hades off an’ don’t buy a fuckin’ thing,” he grumbled.
Michael took a drink of his beer and whispered, “And what makes you think Rhani messed with DROID?”
“For one, we were on our first set of tests, and I saw him disappear behind The Monster for no good reason. He was back there a long time.” She was speaking at a New York City pace.
“Slow down girl, what the hell? The monster?”
“That’s what we called the attack DROID. Apparently the Air Force built about twenty of them to test as an ICBM shield.” She was uncomfortable divulging national secrets, but thought he had the need to know. At least she needed him to know.
“Stick, are you listening to yourself? What could he possibly do to it with a spacesuit on?” Michael wasn’t following her logic.
“All he would have to do is put a piece of Velcro tape over the TV lens. . .we carry Velcro patches in our tool kit. The mission to attack the Iranian satellite was advancing with no problem until it hit Stage III. When it switched over to TV track, the thing went nuts and blew itself up. There’s only one reasonable explanation for that.” She knew there were at least a half-dozen explanations, but she was losing patience, and time was of the essence.
“All right Nancy Drew,” Michael chuckled. “For the moment let’s just say he sabotaged the mission. Motive? Why would he do that? Wouldn’t it mean the
“No problem. What?”
“I’m gonna break into Rhani Hussein’s apartment.”
“Huh?” His eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. “Are you nuts?”
“It’s a matter of national security,” she replied. “It’s a long, complicated story, Michael. I don’t have time. . .”
His eyes lit up when she called him Michael. “Boy, this must be serious,” he said.
She decided to take a big risk. “7-3-3 wasn’t just a DROID test. We were on a Top Secret mission to rendezvous and destroy an Iranian satellite.” She looked around the room and lowered her voice. “Listen, Michael, this shit is classified, but I gotta tell someone.”
“Okay, I’m all ears.”
“It was supposed to be a weather satellite, but the CIA learned it was designed to guide nukes to targets in the United States.”
“Holy smokes, no way. I hope you’re kidding, Stick. That’s spooky.”
“No joke, Michael. Bad news is the mission failed, and that thing is still up there eyeballing every large city in America. Gleason’s balking on taking it out. We gotta do something!”She almost choked on her words.
“Yeah?” he chuckled. “Like we could save the world? So what does our good man, Rhani, have to do with all this?”
“I’m virtually certain he sabotaged the mission.”
He backed away with a confused look. “Whooa now, Stick. He may be a little weird, but he’s a United States astronaut. He’s been vetted by every security agency in this country. Anyway, how could one person pull something like that off?”
She knew it sounded paranoid, so she tried her best to explain with a calm tone, “Actually it would be quite easy for someone with knowledge of the design, someone with access to the robot. As a matter of fact he had both. He had two opportunities to fiddle with the optics on EVAs.” She quit talking when the bartender walked over.
“Wha cane ah get ya ma’am?” he asked in a slow, cowboy twang.
Christina groaned. He was a middle aged, overweight slob, practically drooling on her. He wore an apron that looked like it had been used in an autopsy. It barely covered a huge belly swollen from years of guzzling suds. Gees, run for cover, he could burst at any moment , she mused. “Nothing, sir, I won’t be here long. Thanks just the same.”
He lumbered back to the bar with a look of disgust. “Y’all come in here and squak yer hades off an’ don’t buy a fuckin’ thing,” he grumbled.
Michael took a drink of his beer and whispered, “And what makes you think Rhani messed with DROID?”
“For one, we were on our first set of tests, and I saw him disappear behind The Monster for no good reason. He was back there a long time.” She was speaking at a New York City pace.
“Slow down girl, what the hell? The monster?”
“That’s what we called the attack DROID. Apparently the Air Force built about twenty of them to test as an ICBM shield.” She was uncomfortable divulging national secrets, but thought he had the need to know. At least she needed him to know.
“Stick, are you listening to yourself? What could he possibly do to it with a spacesuit on?” Michael wasn’t following her logic.
“All he would have to do is put a piece of Velcro tape over the TV lens. . .we carry Velcro patches in our tool kit. The mission to attack the Iranian satellite was advancing with no problem until it hit Stage III. When it switched over to TV track, the thing went nuts and blew itself up. There’s only one reasonable explanation for that.” She knew there were at least a half-dozen explanations, but she was losing patience, and time was of the essence.
“All right Nancy Drew,” Michael chuckled. “For the moment let’s just say he sabotaged the mission. Motive? Why would he do that? Wouldn’t it mean the
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