“Right in the middle of the Roar,” interrupted Vinnie. “Like I said, morons.”
The Roar was a particularly disturbed part of Venus, an almost permanent, swirling cyclone several hundred kilometers in diameter that not only interdicted any atmospheric traffic but also messed up radio transmissions and generally was not somewhere anyone sensible ever wanted to go to voluntarily.
“Actually, we don’t think anyone was in charge, not even a moron. Available data points to the yacht landing on automatic, using some kind of least-fuel algorithm that meant that it went for closest landfall regardless of atmospheric factors,” said Mazith. “Certainly neither of the two hired pilots were on board and though we have only limited intel on the passengers, none appears to have had any pilot training.”
“So what actually happened?” asked Kelvin.
“The yacht was on a celebratory graduation tour from Luna. It was docked at Venus Above and the crew and passengers debarked for a visit, with a flight plan filed for the yacht to land here at Venusport when a slot became available—”
“What kind of yacht?” asked Kelvin.
“A civilian variation of what you would know as a Brindi Patrol Corvette,” said Mazith. “Winged, VTOL, with a one-shot orbitmaker so she doesn’t need a catapult. As far as we can figure out from the surveillance at Venus Above, the passengers went back on the ship for some reason and somehow activated an emergency protocol that blew the ship from dock and sent it down.”
“I’m surprised no one took it out,” remarked Kelvin. “You guys, or the Martians, or even MercInc. What are those picket ships up there for anyway?”
“We asked them not to,” said Captain O’Kazanis. “It was clear within the first few minutes the ship was not on a trajectory that would offer either a launch solution at Venusport or a suicide ramming attack.”
“And …” suggested Kelvin. “There’s got to be a better reason than a momentary act of kindness and beatitude. The passengers, I’m guessing?”
Captain O’Kazanis nodded.
“Twenty-four students from U-Luna, including the son of a Mercury Corp board member, twin daughters from two World Government Senators, and the younger clone brother of a Martian Perpetual Chairperson.”
“But they’re dead now,” said Kelvin. “Right?”
“We think they’re alive,” said O’Kazanis. She looked at Mazith, who nodded.
“The ship was tracked most of the way down and we have reason to believe that a successful landfall was made. That being so, and considering who is on board, a rescue mission is indicated. Which is where you and your clone sister come in.”
“They’re dead,” said Kelvin. “An autopilot drop into the heart of the Roar? No chance. It’d be incredibly risky even with a gun pilot. Besides, it was probably some kind of assassination deal, someone lures them back on to the yacht, fiddles the emergency protocols, dumps them in the shit. So I bet there was a bomb or something as well just to make sure. End of story, sorry Senators, sorry Board member, Sorry Perpetual Chairperson. ‘Even golden lads and lasses must, as chimney sweepers, come to dust.’ ”
“Shakespeare,” said Vinnie to the puzzled naval officers. “He only quotes the Bard when he’s stressed. Kel, they want us to go and have a look, and if the ship is there and spaceworthy, they want you to take it up again. Easiest way to get anyone who is still alive back to safety.”
“Go into the Roar?” asked Kelvin. “No one goes into the Roar—”
“Well, that’s not quite true,” said Vinnie.
“Don’t tell them that!” exclaimed Kelvin.
“There are people who go in,” continued his clone sib. “It’s kind of a religious thing, for the Lepers, they go into the eye of the storm—”
“Excuse me?” asked O’Kazanis. “We don’t have anything on … did you say Lepers?”
“Not actual lepers, as in Hansen’s disease lepers,” said Kelvin sourly. “Just people who’ve gone loopy for Venus, let all sorts of shit grow on themselves, they reckon they’re adapting or transmogrifying or something. I didn’t know you hung out with the Lepers, Vinnie. Or that they went into the Roar.”
“The Lepers go for a far more extreme version of what we local settlers do with the lichen,” said Vinnie, sending a quelling glance at Kelvin. “Which, it has to be recognized, is extremely effective. The lichen keeps the malignant spores off far better than any manufactured antifungal agent.”
“Yeah, and then the lichen takes six months to remove,” said Kelvin. “Like after the last time I was dumb enough to get talked into a walk in the Swamp.”
“You offered to help,” said Vinnie. “I didn’t make you come along.”
“Well … Loafer was in dock for repairs anyway,” said Kel. “I didn’t have anything better to do. But this is miner season, I’m flat-out busy. I haven’t got time to go and rescue a bunch of plutocratic larvae who are probably already dead anyway. Not to mention trying to launch a damaged Brindi into orbit through a fucking cyclone, I mean I’d have to wind it up with the storm to forty thousand meters, zip out into the eye for the vertical ascent, light up the orbitmaker, and keep her true without getting sucked back into the cyclical system …”
“I told you he’d know how to do it,” said Vinnie to O’Kazanis.
“You’ve got a dozen pilots who could do it!” said Kelvin.
“In theory, perhaps. Not one that’s done anything like it before,” said O’Kazanis. “You have, though, and survived the Swamp as well. So you’re overqualified.”
“Seriously, there’s no point,” said Kelvin. “They’re dead.”
“We think even a slim chance is worth pursuing,” said O’Kazanis, with another sideways glance at Mazith. “Major Kelvin Kelvin 8 has been briefed more comprehensively on the predicted landing point. She will be in charge until or if you lift off in the Jumping Jehosophat, when you will assume command. Lieutenant Mazith will go with you to provide communications—”
“Radio doesn’t work in the Roar,” interrupted Kelvin. “Lasers, masers, no good. Perpetual cloud, rain, high winds, magnetic rocks, you name it, it’s got it.”
“Mazith is a special communicator,” said O’Kazanis.
“OK, all right then,” said Kelvin, raising an eyebrow. Special communicators were paired clone telepaths, capable of instantaneous communication over interplanetary distances, and were very rare. Mazith was quite possibly the only one the Terran Navy had on Venus, which indicated that this mission was being taken very seriously indeed. More seriously than seemed warranted to Kelvin, no matter how important the lost passengers.
“You leave immediately,” continued O’Kazanis. “Understood?”
“I understand I just got shafted and my big sister dumped me in it,” said Kelvin. “With all due respect.”
“Personnel spat us both out,” said Vinnie. “I didn’t volunteer; you know I would never volunteer. I was just coming into town to pick up some stuff. Wrong place, wrong time … I don’t know why our clone line has all the good luck. Let me know when you’re ready to quit whining and go ride a lizard.”
“And I have to ride a lizard,” complained Kelvin. “We picking up equipment at your place, Vinnie?”
“Yep.”
“What about extra help? Osgood and Jat?”
Osgood and Jat were both former ASAP commandos turned lizard ranchers like Vinnie. Or more accurately, Osgood had turned rancher. Jat had earned her peculiar name not by being an omnicompetent jack-of-all-trades, though she actually was one, but by being teed off with anything involving work. She could do nearly anything practical if she put her mind to it, but that hardly ever happened. However, she was absolutely deadly with all, any, or no weapons and was also Vinnie’s life partner, so Kelvin, like everyone else, cut her a lot of slack.