Solstice

'Understood,' Helen said.

'You mind me asking something?' Green really did look young when he came up with the questions.

'Fire away.'

'Just five of you? Is that enough?'

'Five or fifty,' she answered, 'it wouldn't make much difference. All we're trying to do is connect that system up to the network and check if it's still working. Most ten-year-old kids with a PC could do that, if you want the honest reply.

We hook it up, and then someone else works out how to control it.'

'Which,' Barnside interjected, 'is why I don't understand your need to be there, Helen. If this is admin, you'd have more resources back here.'

'We've been through that. The conversation's over.'

He shrugged and looked at Wolfit. 'Have it your way. I think Larry here would be happy to stay put. That right?'

Wolfit gave a humourless grin in the half-light.

'You guys going to kiss and make up or something?' Green asked.

'No need, Green,' Barnside said. 'We're professionals. We get on with it.'

She watched the activity on the airfield. Farther up the pad the turbines were getting loud, making the kind of noise that preceded takeoff. She looked up at the cockpit of their own machine and saw the co-pilot of their own helicopter staring back at her. The opaque night-vision mask he wore made him look like some giant insect. He stuck out a thumb, motioned to the inside of the craft. A crewman was waiting at the door, holding out a hand. Struggling up the little ladder, with his help, they climbed in, and when everyone was seated he slid shut the door. She was amazed. The sound of the outside world disappeared. The aircraft's interior was clean and shiny, with what looked like a telecom rig in the corner.

'Why's it so quiet?' she asked the crewman.

'This is an unusual ship. Command module. It means we have to rig it out with noise-cancelling stuff, make sure we can carry out normal voice conversations in the air. That way you people can communicate without going through us, or having to wear cans.'

She pulled out her pocket communicator, looked at the blank screen. 'You think this thing works in here?'

The man shook his head. 'No idea, lady. But if you want to make a video call, you can get through using the fixed comm centre over there. Just key in your ID and it will route your calls straight through.'

Somewhere ahead of them the noise level was rising. She peered through the small, high windows and saw one of the Sea Knights climb into the sky, a giant black form, rising on what looked like a single feathery wing.

'What's the light going to be like?' she asked Green.

'Poor, probably,' Green replied. 'Don't let what you experienced on the field down there fool you. The sky is absolutely clear but we have almost no moon. As soon as we're airborne, the lights go out in the cabin. It takes an hour for the human eye to acclimatize to darkness, so we won't be getting out in perfect condition. But it will be a lot better than going from full light to full dark.'

'You brought some goggles?' Barnside asked.

'Yeah. Probability is you won't need them.'

He started to throw around pairs of simple, tinted goggles to each of them. 'This isn't night-vision stuff,' Barnside said gruffly.

'No, sir. We're not going to be needing that. By the time we're going anywhere serious, the Cobras will be behind us lighting up that place like a football stadium. These are just for the flash grenades. If, by any chance, they're still in use when we get close to the house then we put these on. You need to be within twenty feet or so for the effect to be bad, so this is just in case.'

'Yeah,' Barnside barked. The noise level was rising inside the machine. They were close to takeoff. 'I'd really like some night goggles.'

'Like I said,' Green said, taking a small service flashlight out of his pocket. 'We don't need them. There's a clear division of duties here, sir. I hope you can go along with that.'

'Sure.' And Barnside gave a sour grin at Larry Wolfit, who looked ready to throw up. Barnside's big head lurched backward and forward on his shoulders as the machine began to move. With a soft, rising roar, the helicopter rose into the night sky. Seated opposite the silent Wolfit, Helen watched the lights of Nellis recede beneath them. Off to the south was the city, a bizarre tangle of fire and artificial illumination. She didn't want to think what the night would be like there: no certainty, no order. Vegas wasn't a place to be alone just then.

The machine levelled out and they felt it tilt gently forward as it moved into a horizontal cruise. The interior lights dimmed. Larry Wolfit, visible from the faint illumination of the emergency exit sign, stared back at her looking drained. S&T was supposed to be available for operational duties, it was written right there in the contract. But that happened so rarely. To be ploughing through the impenetrable night sky, heading for a rendezvous none of them could predict, wasn't really why you joined the club.

She sat next to Green, strapped into the bench seat, while Barnside, in the corner, stared mindlessly out the window, not saying a word. And she tried to clear her mind, tried to focus on the hours to come, to make sure every angle was covered. Then she dreamed. It was impossible not to dream, moving through the black velvet night in the belly of this giant machine, like some silent insect whirring toward its prey.

She was ready to nod off — so little sleep these last few days — when Barnside, his voice rising several decibels in volume, said, 'Hey, I think you got a call.'

She had, out of habit, rerouted her videophone onto the onboard comm screen by her seat as soon as she climbed in. Now it was flashing with an incoming signal. Green passed her the remote control, she pointed it at the screen, and Lieberman's face appeared, bright and animated in the gloomy, enclosed interior of the cabin.

'Good morning. Where the hell are you?'

'That's classified. You look… perky.'

'Yeah. I was wondering… how's it going there?'

'What?' she said, and wished this conversation could be more private. Everyone could hear it in this small, enclosed interior of the helicopter.

'Just asking.'

'Michael,' she said testily, 'we are in the middle of an operation. I really don't have time for small talk.'

Lieberman looked worried, uncomfortable, and it was so obvious even on the lousy picture of the video screen. 'No, it's just…'

She waited and it didn't come. 'Just what?'

'I just want you to know we're not sitting on our butts. We're still working on some ideas too.'

'Good ideas?' she asked, interested.

'Maybe. And anyway, you won't need them. You got Charley in your sights, right?'

She nodded. 'It looks like it. And for the record, Michael, I never imagined you were sitting on your butts. Not for one moment.' He seemed worried, and momentarily tongue-tied too. 'Now can we go back to work?'

'Sure. But if you do need some extra help, come calling. I might just have something extra in my bag of tricks. Nothing to trouble you with now, and I don't think you'll need it. You just get on with the job and I'm sure it will all be just fine.'

'We'll be in touch when we have news. These portable communicators ought to work on the ground. It's night here. She can't throw any of the storm at us.'

'Maybe she can throw other stuff.'

'Yes. We've thought of that. This is quite an operation. Maybe one day I get to break the rules and tell you all about it.'

The pale, bearded face nodded. 'That would be nice. Helen?'