CHAPTER 17
THE NEXT BUS OUT OF TOWN
Green to green, red to red, all is well, go ahead. When in danger, or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.
- Sign on a sailboat
Bates left the vault's small side-office and rejoined the others. He had been alone in there most of the afternoon. "Quiet everyone, we haven't much time.” All were present except Norma, who, after finishing with the Bus and talking with Bates, had slipped out a few minutes earlier. Hank and Sandra had earlier gone on forays for food and other gear, but were now back inside the vault. They reported that an apparently normal workday was occurring on the Base. The fact that several people, including the Head of DOD, had not come to work that day, didn't seem to have any impact at all on Base operations, which were nearly non-existent to begin with.
The B-Team members present gathered around Bates in the main vault room, giving him their full attention. "As some of you know, I've just written a message and sent it via electronic VISICOM mail to a dozen people in Government, and the National Police. This note should finally get through to them.” Bates took a slip of paper from his pocket. It was covered with writing, a confused, cryptic jumble of cross-outs, re-writes, arrows moving words from here to there that only the author could possibly decipher, maybe.
"Here is what it says: This is official notification to you that having been unsuccessful in all attempts to reach the President or other appropriate ranking Government officers in a time of dire national emergency, and in accordance with The 25th Amendment to the Constitution and Statute 1352.7 Paragraph 5 of the Emergency Powers Act of the United States, I am as at this time assuming emergency Presidential powers of the United States Government in order to attempt to deal with the emergency. I am sure that I can count on your good will and cooperation and on the cooperation of the citizens of this great country, and on that of the world community as well.
“However, there being evidence in our possession that the Government of the United States has been infiltrated to an unknown degree by representatives of the Ra, the alien race responsible for the coming asteroid onslaught, the veracity of all claims to authority is currently in question. Thus far, we have identified only three aliens: our companions at DOD, Twig, Melberg, and Renson, but there are probably others. Therefore it is our intent, in the short time remaining, to act independently in our labors if necessary, and further, to not honor any attempts to restrain us from doing so. However, if there are any other similar efforts in progress of which we lack knowledge, please notify us, that we may fully collaborate.
“Personally, I don't think that we have a snowball's chance in hell, but in Drs. Guthery, Carbuncle, Barns, Oscomb, and Kruger, we have among us some of the finest minds in the world, and we will do our very best to save Earth. Besides, we don't have anything else better to do. God help us all. Dr. Narbando T. Bates, recently appointed Head, Department of Defense, and acting President of the United States of America."
There were a few seconds of silence. Then they began clapping; all of them! And shaking his hand, and patting him on the back, and even hugging him! Several saluted him and called him 'boss' or 'Mr. President', though they were laughing when they did it. Bates was touched: tears formed in his eyes. He thought they would support his decision, at least some of them, because they were all good people, and because it was the right thing to do. He hadn't really expected this outpouring of support and affection for him personally.
"Thanks everybody," he said. "That message should get their attention, but there's more to talk about, and we have to hurry. We've been lucky so far, but it can't last. Those of us going on this mission have to leave right away. Norma assures me that the Bus is ready to fly.
“So here's the big issue. This will be a very dangerous mission. In the first place, I've been told that this Bus has never actually been flown. That’s obviously a gigantic concern. In the second place, the Ra and maybe the National Police will probably be after us. That’s a really big concern also. And finally, we don't have a clue about where to go or how we can stop Dannos. We haven't even had a chance to think about it yet, but our chances appear to be something between nil and none. Put it all together what do you get?"
Bates had meant it to be a rhetorical question, but he wasn't the only person in the room who could add things up, especially when it amounted to adding up zeroes.
"It's a suicide mission," replied Mel.
"We could be flying right to the Ra, where we will be shish-kabob!” offered Barns, shuddering.
"It's nuts," added Sandra. “We don’t know what the hell we’re doing!”
"And there won't be any beer in space," lamented Oscar.
"Right on all counts," said Bates. "Objectively you could all more profitably either spend the remaining week in comfort with friends and loved ones, or raising hell in some bar.” He glanced at Oscar, and visualized for a happy moment the scantily clad brunette in the Shady Grove. "Or, you can go with me, live in discomfort and terror for a while, and probably be killed much, much sooner. Maybe as soon as a few minutes from now, when we try to fly out of here.” He looked around at the assembled company. The moment of truth had arrived. "So OK, who wants to go with me?"
Bates expected Oscomb and maybe Mel to volunteer immediately. But instead, they all just looked at each other. Mel and Jane were standing together, holding each other tightly.
"Who do you feel is needed?" asked Mel.
"Everyone," replied Bates. "Each of you has unique talents, and we don't know yet what sort of talents will be useful. There’s plenty of room in the Bus for us all, at least so far.”
"What do you mean 'so far'?" asked Oscomb. "Will there be others?”
Bates was a little sorry Oscar had asked that question. He was afraid that if they all understood as well as he did how shaky this whole thing was, he'd be on his own. "Well," he answered hesitantly, "my general plan is over the next couple days to pick up whatever help that we figure we will need. Smart people and high-tech equipment, I suppose. Last night and this afternoon I started looking at the data from the safe for ideas, and there are some interesting things that may help us. I'm not exactly sure what, but it's a start. If it gets too crowded in the Bus, we may have to re-think things, but for right now, I'd like to get as many volunteers as I can get from among you guys."
Bates was getting a little worried now. An image of himself flying the Bus alone into the Washington monument flashed through his mind. No, on second thought, that was maybe ten miles away, and he probably wouldn't get any further than the water tower across the street from the Base. No, on third thought, he might not even clear Hank's guard shack at the Base gate. "So what do you say?"
Mel stepped up to his friend. "We already decided while you were sending your message Narb. We all want to go."
Bates let out a huge sigh of relief. His head spun a little, but he avoided fainting. "Great!” he exclaimed, again overwhelmed. “I really don’t want to get killed alone; I’d rather take my friends with me.”
Oscar, anxious to get right into the thick of things after being a bit plowed the previous night, was still full of questions. "I must have missed something. Can you tell us more about who we might get to help us, besides your old girlfriend in Arizona?”
Bates struggled to formulate an acceptable answer. Frankly, what he had so far seen of the contents of the data cube didn't really provide very much hope. He had expected to find descriptions of powerful weapons. There were indeed such descriptions, but there was a total lack of actual weapons. Strategic weapons needed to deal with Dannos or even the Ra had been dismantled years ago. Ideas for new weapons that would take years to develop were of little value, since they had only about one week.
Technical help had to be ready-made, like some of the other things discussed by the data cube. Unconventional things. So incredibly unconventional and unlikely that he hesitated to identify them to the group. Actually, his plan was based entirely on an old western called 'The Magnificent Se
ven' that he had seen on the COM a few nights earlier. What was the name of that bald actor? His favorite part was near the beginning of the movie, when the bald guy scrounged the area for unlikely heroes that could be had cheap. Bates planned to basically fly around picking up more and more help, until they had enough heroes and so forth to save the Earth. Maybe it was a totally lame plan, but it was all that he had.
Bates was relieved of the necessity to formulate a ridiculously optimistic sounding answer to Oscar's question by the opening of the vault door. It was Norma returning, and she was out of breath and visibly terrified. "They're here, they're here!” she shouted, as she struggled to quickly close the heavy vault door. “It’s the Ra!”
While Oscar finished securing the massive steel door, Bates questioned the frightened woman. "Where did you see them?”
"Out front; coming from your office maybe, both Twig and Renson. I ducked away. I don't think they saw me, but I'm not sure.”
"Well," reasoned Bates, "they probably didn't see you or know to chase you, or they'd have caught you. Renson is as fast as a Cheetah.”
"Unless," said Hank. Hank was usually a man of few words, but the group needed more than that.
"Unless what?" queued Oscar.
"Unless they let Norma be free," explained Hank. "So's they could follow her right back ta-us here, so's to get us all.”
They all looked back at the solid steel safe door. At that moment a huge booming sound resounded throughout the vault, while the floor shook beneath their feet from a massive shock! They all realized immediately that the Ra had arrived, and were applying fantastic forces in an effort to forcefully break into the vault!
"Quick! To the Bus!” cried Bates, though not very loudly, as he had no idea as to the hearing capabilities of their pursuers. Bates was the last to leave the room. Glancing back at the massive steal vault door, he was astonished to see it glowing red and actually bending inward slowly, in response to incredible heat and pressure! Bates hurried himself and the others out to the Bus and closed the second vault door behind them. Mel threw a switch that caused the heavy steel garage door to open to the outside. Hopefully, all their pursuers were still behind them, and not outside waiting for them!
Bates sat down in the middle seat in back of the pilot and copilot positions. Everyone else scrambled into the passenger seats behind him, including Oscar, who had closed and latched the Bus door. Noting the emptiness of the pilot and copilot seats, Bates realized suddenly what the group had neglected one dire necessity. They needed a pilot!
”Say, who the hell can fly this thing?" he demanded. He got blank stares in response. "OK then, any aircraft pilots in the group?” He got shaking heads in response. "Bus drivers?” A dull crash and shock jolted the Bus. Bates reasoned that the first vault door had been breached. Now only the second vault door leading into the garage separated the Ra from the Bus and its terrified passengers!
In desperation Bates himself climbed into the pilot seat and stared at the controls. There were hundreds of them, finger sized buttons, odd shaped knobs, and scads of dials and display screens. They glowed softly, providing the only light within the otherwise darkened Bus.
He didn’t recognize any of the controls; he didn't even know how to start the blasted engines! Suddenly there were hands pulling him back into the center seat, and Norma plopped herself into the pilot seat, while Sandra put herself into the copilot seat!
"Well, I designed most of this thing," said Norma, "so I guess I could try to fly it.”
"And I flew it in the simulator once," said Sandra. "That was ten years ago, of course, and I wasn't very good.”
What luck! Bates had forgotten that Sandra was an aeronautical engineer! "OK, OK, you're both hired!” he cried. "Let’s get going!”
Norma and Sandra started throwing switches. Immediately, control panels and displays lit up, and muted engine sounds filled the Bus. Bates was looking through a side portal back at the remaining vault door. It was already glowing red and bulging outward, and the Bus shook from steady thunderous pounding on the vault door by the Ra. "We have to get going!” Bates shouted.
"I can't even see where to exit the garage!” responded Norma.
Bates looked at the windshield and saw pitch darkness. "What's wrong with the windshield?" he asked.
"Probably nothing," responded Norma. "I didn't design that part of it, but I know that it can darken up to protect against direct sunlight. We have to find the controls for it and make it transparent!”
Bates scanned the dimly glowing controls in panic, and finally noticed what he thought was a likely looking knob. It looked vaguely like the wiper-knob on his Nitro. As he reached for it, Sandra's hand stopped his.
"No, I think that's an attitude thruster!” she said. Let's try this one.” She reached for an almost identical knob.
Attitude thruster? Gritting his teeth, Bates had visions of the white plastic Bus thrusting and bouncing around inside the steel garage like an oversized Ping-Pong ball!
Sandra had picked the correct knob. Dim light flooded the inside of the Bus, as in response to a weak electrical current the windshield turned transparent, revealing a clear escape path through the open outside doorway, to an open area outside hidden in the featureless gray shadows of dusk. A faint glow to the south-west indicated the direction of the setting sun.
As vibration from pounding on the vault door intensified the Bus rolled outside at a disturbingly leisurely pace, and stopped a few yards outside the garage doorway. The Bus was surrounded by a high wire fence. The only way out was up, but the good news was, they were in a FLYING Bus, hopefully. The bad news was it had never yet flown.
Norma threw a switch, and the heavy steel garage door started to ponderously close. As it was slowly closing, Bates saw the red-hot, crumpled remains of the second vault door fly across the garage, and Renson strode through the torn twisted remains of the doorway. A moment later, the Ra cyborg was running towards the garage door, but it slammed shut just in time. Bates felt more tremors in the Bus, and could hear muffled thuds, even though the Bus was virtually sound proof. The Ra were already trying to break out of the garage!
"Which way should we go, Bates?" asked Norma.
"I don't care," said Bates, "as long as up is part of it! Towards the setting Sun maybe? Who cares?” The Sun was just starting to set towards the West. “How about South-West towards the White House?”
Meanwhile, Sandra had produced some sort of list that she now started reading from. "Pressure equalizer on.”
"Check," replied Norma.
"Fuel pressure normal.”
"Check.”
"Gyroscopic stabilization system on."
"Check.”
The pre-flight check-out went on and on for long agonizing seconds that seemed like hours. In the meantime, Bates looked through the side portal at the steel garage door and saw Renson's fist come crashing through it, then though it again, though due to the growing whine of the Bus engines, he heard no sound. Looking through the portal was like watching a VISICOM screen with the sound off. But they all knew that the Ra were not mere images, they were terrifyingly real. Again Renson's fist came crashing through the steel door, enlarging the hole. Very soon, he would be through it and upon them! Bates could well imagine those powerful fists pounding right through the side of the Bus, despite its solid appearing construction.
Bates looked back at the other passengers. They were grim faced and silent, even Milo, who read the mood of his companions and went along with it, though he had no comprehension of what was causing all the distress. Hank, in the first passenger row, clutched his assault rifle tightly, although its effectiveness against super-powered Ra was highly questionable.
Oscar flanked the security guard. The big biologist was watching Renson's destructive progress with interest as he absent mindedly petted Milo, whom he had strapped in beside him. "Too bad we don't have a bottle of beer to christen this tub!” said Oscar, forcing a smile as he acknow
ledged Bates. In back of Oscar sat Mel and Jane, who, in spite of all the restraining straps, were still managing hold each other fairly closely. Finally, an exhausted Dr. John T. Barns sat across from Mel. His tired eyes met Bates' gaze with steely strength.
Seemingly oblivious to the Ra, Norma and Sandra continued the pre-flight check in a steady monotone. Bates lost track of what they were saying as he watched in fascination Renson tearing the hole ever larger with his bare hands! His hands glowed white hot, apparently softening the heavy steel so it could more easily be bent and ripped. Bates had imagined that the Ra used some sort of heavy weapons against the vault doors that they had already overcome, but he realized now that Renson had probably done it all with his bare hands! How could that be possible? Were they robots? Nuclear powered cyborgs perhaps? The technology required for such a thing was certainly far beyond what humans could do.
Renson was just stepping out through the ragged opening in the garage door when, in some corner of his mind, Bates heard Norma say 'liftoff'. Suddenly, he was compressed down into his seat and the garage and everything else seemed to drop away around the Bus! He had a last glimpse of Renson raising a glowing arm and pointing it at them. There was a bright flash and the Bus shuttered violently then for just a moment, as though it had been stricken by a mighty fist. Then the sturdy Bus continued on, up and up.
Bates looked out and down. For a few moments he saw lights of the suburbs below them. A few streetlights had just come on, and there were scattered headlights to mark the nearby Capital beltway. Then the Bus poked up into the gray clouds and there was nothing but gray, until they popped out above them. Thousands of stars filled the blue-gray sky, and the Sun was setting ahead and slightly to their right.
They had made it! Bates breathed a large sigh of relief. The Bus worked, and they were in competent hands. Carbuncle was evidently more of a pilot then she thought.
Sandra, apparently not enjoying the view as much as Bates, turned to Bates with utter terror in her eyes and simply asked "how high?"
Bates would have replied, but Norma Carbuncle suddenly raised other concerns. "Sandra, here's the Flight Manual. You have control.” The stout inventor handed Sandra a small but thick book. Bates noticed the title, Space Bus User’s Manual; Volume I of XXII, on the cover.
Norma's face was a pasty white color, and she was breathing rapidly, as she hurriedly unstrapped herself and staggered towards the back of the Bus. Sounds of retching could be heard moments later. Bates hoped that Norma had found a barf bag in time.
Looking back at the passengers, Bates noticed that several others were also looking a little off-color. "Anyone have some Dramamine?" he asked. It was clearly one of the more important issues of the moment. "What about you, Jane?" he asked.
"I'm a nurse, not a drug store!” she replied, clearly irritated to have to converse while she too was trying to focus on not losing her own breakfast.
Sandra sat frozen in a state of utter terror, rigidly clutching her newly activated co-pilot controls and staring blankly out into the gathering blackness of dusk. Bates called out her name and poked and shook her but received no response. He suddenly realized that nobody at all was flying the damn Bus! Sandra was completely out of action! Bates shouted and shook her violently, but she was a complete zombie.
As he desperately studied the control read-outs in a hopeless attempt to figure out their purpose and status, he noticed that one labeled altitude was displaying ever-decreasing numbers. He looked out the window. There were no more stars; they were again inside the clouds. Then suddenly they were below the clouds! Even as he watched, suburban lights on the ground below re-appeared and grew ever closer!
They were dropping like a rock. No, not quite, judged Bates, their flight-path was more like the trajectory of a thrown rock: they had considerable forward motion, but they were in a steep descent. Judging from the lights he saw far ahead and below, they would crash somewhere in downtown Washington DC! ”Hokey smokes!” he exclaimed.
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