Read Online The Long Mars by Terry Pratchett, Stephen Baxter - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Pratchett, Stephen Baxter
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world crowded with humanity’s stink and suffused with the peculiar mental pressure that generally kept trolls away from dense human populations – yet here they were, and Maggie allowed herself to be pleased by their loyalty.
But Joe Mackenzie appreciated little of this. Approaching sixty, Mac, a veteran of too many years in inner-city emergency departments and battlefield medicine, had become a walking, talking definition of cynicism, Maggie thought – even if there was nobody else she’d sooner have at her side on this first expedition of Armstrong and Cernan . And now his expression was stony.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Maggie said.
‘Do you?’
‘“What a damn circus.”’
‘That’s the polite version.’
‘Mac, this mission is kind of – complicated. We carry a freight of symbolism. The overt purpose of it is to go further stepwise than any ship before us, even those Chinese ships before Yellowstone. But the deeper meaning is that we’ll be a visible demonstration of the recovery of America – we’ll show that Americans can do more than just shovel ash. Mac, we’ll go down in history.’
‘Or in flames.’
‘And you’ll be there to salve the wounds as always.’
‘Look, Maggie, I know I’m a crusty old bastard. But as far as I’m concerned all this American-destiny stuff is a lot of hooey. Cowley’s only true objective for this trip is just as it was when we went out in the Franklin , all those years ago, when Valhalla was boiling up to rebel. To project federal power across the Aegis. To remind those uppity colonials and combers out there who’s boss. And as far as I’m concerned, our only worthwhile mission objective is to find what became of the crew of the Armstrong I .’
‘Fair enough. Glad to have you aboard anyhow. Oh, by the way, I’m bringing the cat.’
He flared. ‘God dammit, Maggie, why don’t you just stick pins in my eyes?’
Suddenly, shadows from the sky striped across the square.
Maggie tipped up her head to see, and shielded her eyes. Precisely at noon, three airships had appeared above their heads.
The two brand new Navy craft, the USS Neil A . Armstrong II , and the USS Eugene A. Cernan , were whales in the sky. Their predecessors, including Maggie’s own old command the Franklin , based on Long-Mississippi commercial twain technology, had been a little smaller than the venerable Hindenburg . The new Armstrong , like its sister, was nearly half as long again, topping out at more than a thousand feet from stem to stern, not counting a protruding comms antenna and massive tail planes mounted with compact jet engines. The crew liked to brag about how that great envelope could swallow the old Franklin whole, though that wasn’t quite true. But, with Cernan , the ship had taken the record for the largest flying machine ever constructed from the old Hindenburg . Mac had counselled Maggie not to boast too loudly about that, because after all the Hindenburg had been bankrolled by the Nazi party, and ultimately had crashed and burned . . . Maggie had pored over the engineering details as the ships had been designed and constructed, like a kid in a toy store. Now her heart swelled with pride that two such magnificent ships were hers to command.
And between the Navy ships, stepping in at precisely the same moment in a neat bit of synchronization, was a smaller ship but just as sturdy-looking, its hull painted white and blue with a proud presidential seal emblazoned on its flanks and tail fins. Popularly known as Navy One, this twain was the President’s own dedicated craft, heavily defended and bristling with armour and, it was rumoured, luxuriously appointed within.
Now, with a hum of powerful engines, a soft downwash of air and some neat navigation, Navy One descended towards the Capitol building, and a hatch in the base of the gondola opened up to allow a staircase to extend smoothly to the stage.
With secret service agents front and back, the
But Joe Mackenzie appreciated little of this. Approaching sixty, Mac, a veteran of too many years in inner-city emergency departments and battlefield medicine, had become a walking, talking definition of cynicism, Maggie thought – even if there was nobody else she’d sooner have at her side on this first expedition of Armstrong and Cernan . And now his expression was stony.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Maggie said.
‘Do you?’
‘“What a damn circus.”’
‘That’s the polite version.’
‘Mac, this mission is kind of – complicated. We carry a freight of symbolism. The overt purpose of it is to go further stepwise than any ship before us, even those Chinese ships before Yellowstone. But the deeper meaning is that we’ll be a visible demonstration of the recovery of America – we’ll show that Americans can do more than just shovel ash. Mac, we’ll go down in history.’
‘Or in flames.’
‘And you’ll be there to salve the wounds as always.’
‘Look, Maggie, I know I’m a crusty old bastard. But as far as I’m concerned all this American-destiny stuff is a lot of hooey. Cowley’s only true objective for this trip is just as it was when we went out in the Franklin , all those years ago, when Valhalla was boiling up to rebel. To project federal power across the Aegis. To remind those uppity colonials and combers out there who’s boss. And as far as I’m concerned, our only worthwhile mission objective is to find what became of the crew of the Armstrong I .’
‘Fair enough. Glad to have you aboard anyhow. Oh, by the way, I’m bringing the cat.’
He flared. ‘God dammit, Maggie, why don’t you just stick pins in my eyes?’
Suddenly, shadows from the sky striped across the square.
Maggie tipped up her head to see, and shielded her eyes. Precisely at noon, three airships had appeared above their heads.
The two brand new Navy craft, the USS Neil A . Armstrong II , and the USS Eugene A. Cernan , were whales in the sky. Their predecessors, including Maggie’s own old command the Franklin , based on Long-Mississippi commercial twain technology, had been a little smaller than the venerable Hindenburg . The new Armstrong , like its sister, was nearly half as long again, topping out at more than a thousand feet from stem to stern, not counting a protruding comms antenna and massive tail planes mounted with compact jet engines. The crew liked to brag about how that great envelope could swallow the old Franklin whole, though that wasn’t quite true. But, with Cernan , the ship had taken the record for the largest flying machine ever constructed from the old Hindenburg . Mac had counselled Maggie not to boast too loudly about that, because after all the Hindenburg had been bankrolled by the Nazi party, and ultimately had crashed and burned . . . Maggie had pored over the engineering details as the ships had been designed and constructed, like a kid in a toy store. Now her heart swelled with pride that two such magnificent ships were hers to command.
And between the Navy ships, stepping in at precisely the same moment in a neat bit of synchronization, was a smaller ship but just as sturdy-looking, its hull painted white and blue with a proud presidential seal emblazoned on its flanks and tail fins. Popularly known as Navy One, this twain was the President’s own dedicated craft, heavily defended and bristling with armour and, it was rumoured, luxuriously appointed within.
Now, with a hum of powerful engines, a soft downwash of air and some neat navigation, Navy One descended towards the Capitol building, and a hatch in the base of the gondola opened up to allow a staircase to extend smoothly to the stage.
With secret service agents front and back, the
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