"We're on our own," Vance said, clicking off the mike and looking
around the darkened blockhouse. "Marooned."
Cally, who had been listening to the radio exchange, already had other
things to think about. She was engaged by the computer terminal,
checking out the status of the facility.
"Hate to tell you this, but it's worse than you know." She was staring
at the screen. "They've taken over the Fujitsu. They've locked out all
the other workstations and there's a countdown in process. Look!
Somebody's on Big Benny who knows all about SORT."
"About _what_? Sort?"
"SORT's the program that sets up the automatic lift-off sequence. Once
it's started, it proceeds like clockwork. The Cyclops comes up to
power; the radars are all switched on; and the vehicle's electronics go
to full alert status. The main console in Command controls everything
and nothing can prevent the launch from proceeding unless it's stopped
from there."
"How long have we got?"
"It's in the abbreviated mode. That's a six-hour countdown."
He looked at her. "So you're saying we've got roughly six hours to get
down there and stop it?"
"Six hours on the nose."
"How about your friend, Georges?"
"He's logged off the computer. Like I said, it's somebody else. They
must have brought along their own specialist. Guess they came
prepared."
"One more problem," Vance observed with a sigh. "First Ramirez, and
then this one. Guess we'll have to neutralize him, too. If that's the
only way to stop the launch. This is getting dirtier all the time."
"There's no way to do it except get into Command," Cally went on. "But
even then shutting it down's not that simple. Once it goes into auto
mode, you can't just flip a switch. But still, that's the only place--"
"You're talking about a frontal assault that could get bloody," Vance
said. "They might kill more of your technicians. No, the assault will
have to wait for ARM. We're going to need to work a different way." He
paused. "Maybe it's time we blew up something."
"You mean--?"
"What's the definition of a terrorist? It's somebody who uses well-
placed acts of violence to disrupt society's normal functions, right?
Murder one and frighten a thousand. A terrorist is somebody who takes
on a more powerful organization by hit-and-run tactics. Scaring them."
"So?" She looked at him quizzically, her dark eyes puzzled.
"Well, they've taken over the facility now, which means they're the
establishment, and we're the outsiders. The tables are turned, which
means we have to become terrorists against them."
"But--"
"We don't have much to work with, so we're going to have to do some
improvising." He turned thoughtful, scratching at his chin. "How about
some 'mollys'--throw together some gasoline, sulfuric acid, sugar . . .
and maybe a little potassium chlorate for ignition?"
"Mollys? You mean--"
"Molotov cocktails. And if you design them for acid ignition, then you
can blow them with a bullet. Not a bad little standoff bomb."
"I'm not so keen on blowing up equipment. It's hard enough to get
things to work around here when we try."
"Ditto the fiber-optics cables, I suppose?"
"That would be even worse. We'd be down for months."
"Okay, nothing crucial." He strolled to the open doorway and looked
down the hill, pondering. "We just need to put something out of
commission that could be fixed easily later on. And you know what: I
think I see the perfect target."
"What are you talking about?" She rose, stepped over, and followed his
gaze.
"Right down there. That gantry. It's the only way to prep the satellite
payload, right? Maybe we could take that out. It would keep them from
installing a bomb, put them out of business without damaging the
vehicle. Nothing serious. They won't be able to use it, but you can put
it back into operating condition in a couple of days, with the right
parts. Think that's possible?"
She seemed disposed to the concept, though still none too keen. "Okay,
but I've got a better idea. How about just blowing up a portion of the
rails it moves on? Then they couldn't roll it away from the vehicle to
launch."
"Sounds intelligent to me, but I've got a hunch we'd better not wait
too long." He was feeling energized after the steak. "Matter of fact,
I'd say there's no time like the present. Where can we find some
chemicals? Even the kitchen would be a place to start."
"I've got a better idea," she interjected. "There's a construction
shed. It might have something left from back when."
Then why don't we go down and have a look?" he mused. "Figure out if
there's anything we can liberate."