Читать книгу Dark Star - Don Pendleton - Страница 8

Compose Island, Brazil

Partially hidden by rising clouds of steam, the huge space shuttle dominated the vast empty expanse of the launch pad. Surrounding the colossal concrete apron was a lush tropical jungle full of wild birds, small monkeys, trip wires, video cameras, proximity sensors and land mines.

“T-minus fifty minutes and counting,” an amplified voice announced over the public-address speakers, the words echoing across the island and startling the flocks of colorful parrots in the nearby coconut trees. For a single moment it almost seemed like a rainbow exploded into existence, then the birds separated, each taking off in a new direction, and it was gone.

Standing alongside the colossal spacecraft, the gantry tower was alive with dozens of scientists, technicians, mechanics and astronauts carefully preparing the billion-dollar vehicle for its maiden flight. In only a little while, a new era would begin for Brazilian space travel.

A large crowd of excited people clustered in front of the Vehicle Assembly Building, watched the complex preparations from behind a line of safety barriers. The cream of Brazilian society was in attendance: politicians, billionaires, scholars, famous athletes and movie stars, along with a small army of new reporters, their digital cameras flashing almost nonstop. This was a very special day for the nation, and everybody wanted to be here for the event.

“T-minus thirty minutes and counting,” the voice loudly announced once more as the technicians on the gantry started disconnecting myriad cables and hoses attached to the shuttle as a prelude to the launch.

More than simply a new class of space vehicle, the monstrously huge Skywalker would be the world’s first armored shuttle, fully capable of being armed to defend Brazilian interests in space or to remove enemy military satellites. The brewing war with Colombia over dwindling natural resources was becoming inevitable, and the Ministry of Defense always took the long view and planned for the future. When the hammer fell, Brazil would be ready to defend itself against any possible invader.

Fully aware that the combination of the Skywalker and the crowd of high-profile notables was a tempting political target for any terrorist group, the Ministry of Defense was taking no chances today and security was tight. Discreetly armed members of the S2 secret police moved through the excited throng, watching intently for anything suspicious. A full battalion of soldiers was situated in the jungle, and floating serenely off the nearby coast was the massive São Paulo, the flight deck of the aircraft carrier full of SuperPuma gunships, and the new AMZ fighter-bombers, their sleek wings bristling with weaponry.

“T-minus ten minutes and counting,” the calm voice announced. “Will all nonessential personnel please leave the launch pad immediately. Repeat, all nonessential personnel leave the launch area…. Alert! Red alert! We have incoming!”

The crowd looked at the sky to see something bright streak by overhead, moving faster than they could track. Was it a meteor? A missile? A split second later they had their answer as the truncated cone came to a dead halt in the air above the throng of dignitaries and a hurricane wind brutally slammed them to the ground.

Suddenly a wave of heat engulfed the spectators, followed closely by a thundering volcano of fire, the roiling blast tearing the horrified people apart, arms and legs sailing away like burning autumn leaves. Heads rolled across the cracking concrete and bodies were hammered flat, only to be reduced to ash in mere seconds.

Shocked motionless for a moment, the news reporters on the roof of the Main Assembly Building lurched into action and swung their cameras around to record the ghastly slaughter. But they caught only a brief glimpse of a strange machine hovering above the ocean of fire before the hellish wave of smoke and flame erupted over the edge of the building. Helplessly, the reporters and their equipment were slammed across the roof to tumble off the other side, falling fifteen stories to the hard concrete below.

A low moan sounded just then, rapidly increasing into a strident howl as warning sirens cut loose, the noise nearly rivaling in stentorian exhaust the cone-shaped machine in sheer mind-numbing volume. Bursting out of other buildings across the base, Brazilian security guards stared in horror for only a heartbeat, then pulled their 9 mm automatic pistols and began shooting at the impossible invader. But if the steel-jacketed rounds even reached the machine there was no way of knowing.

Moving sideways, the ten-story-tall cone floated across the parking lot, its exhaust igniting rows of cars, the gas tanks promptly detonating into a staggered series of fireballs. Black smoke rose in dense plumes as hundreds of soldiers burst out of the jungle to start shooting their assault rifles at the intruder. The hail of 5.56 mm rounds throwing off sprays of bright sparks as they ricocheted harmlessly off the armored side of the sleek cone.

A kilometer offshore, an AMZ fighter-bomber suddenly launched from the deck of the São Paulo, as a full wing of SuperPuma gunships lifted into the air and assumed a combat formation.

Inside a radar installation, the Brazilian soldiers frantically tried to operate their consoles and get a lock for the SAM bunkers hidden in the distant hills. However, the softly glowing screen only registered the AMZ fighters and SuperPumas, but nothing else. As far as radar was concerned, the sky was clear.

“By the blood of Christ, how is this possible?” a civilian technician cursed, thumping the console with a clenched fist.

“Who cares?” a gruff sergeant growled, crossing the room to yank open a metal locker. Inside the cabinet were neat rows of Imbel assault rifles, stacks of ammunition clips, rows of 30 mm rounds, and one large, bulky fiberglass tube.

Yanking out the Carl Gustaf rocket launcher, the sergeant checked the batteries, zeroed the aft port, then started to rummage for 83 mm shells. Damn it, there only seemed to be armor-piercing rounds designed to take out an APC or hovercraft. But there had to be at least one. Please, Lord, just one, single… yes! Sliding the antipersonnel round into the gaping maw of the huge weapon, the sergeant closed it tight, flicked off the safety and grimly strode for the door. A corporal and the civilian tech were already there, working the arming bolts of their assault rifles and thumbing in fat 30 mm rounds.

“Ready!” the sergeant announced, leveling the weapon.

But as the others threw open the door, hell itself exploded into the room, slamming the weapons from their hands and the very flesh from their blackening bones. The delicate equipment short-circuited in a wild display of electric sparks as windows blew out in a glittering rain of glass, then the roof flipped off as the concrete floor cracked, exposing the black box recorder. The resilient device briefly resisted the monstrous onslaught, then it was gone, reduced to red-hot slag and glowing vapors.

Just then there was an unexpected creaking noise as the maze of steel struts supporting the radar array above the installation began to soften and the huge confinement globe started to tilt. Instantly the cone streaked into the sky just in time to avoid being hit by the collapsing tons of advanced electronics.

By now the entire launch facility was in chaos, the soldiers and guards still firing at the bizarre flying machine to no avail whatsoever as hundreds of terrified people ran about screaming. The Main Assembly Building was on fire, and burning cars continued to explode as a spreading cloud of smoke began to completely swamp the base.

Moving above the death and destruction, the cone headed directly toward the Skywalker.

Streaking across the sky, the first AMZ fighter banked sharply toward the aerial machine and promptly unleashed a pair of Sidewinder missiles. Incredibly, the deadly heat-seekers streaked past the cone as if it didn’t exist and disappeared into the distance.

Cursing vehemently, the pilot began to turn for another try. How was this possible? The damn thing was sitting on a column of flame! he thought. There were no markings on the machine, whatever it was, to announce the country of origin, but clearly it had to be from one of the superpowers.

Suddenly a warning light flashed and the pilot of the AMZ fighter banked sharply to get out of the way of the incoming delta of SuperPumas.

Reaching the Skywalker, the cone washed its exhaust across the gantry, sending swarms of burning people flying into the jungle. As the gunships began to fire their 20 mm cannons, the fuel lines attached to the shuttle snapped and out gushed torrents of liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen. The semifrozen elements instantly combined and ignited. Looking horribly similar to fuses, the burning fuel lines raced up the side of the huge shuttle, then disappeared inside the armored hull. For a long second, it seemed as if nothing would happen.

Then the shuttle bulged slightly just before violently exploding, the blinding detonation spreading across the entire base like the wrath of a prehistoric god. Caught in the titanic shock wave, the gunships and jet fighters were smashed to pieces, the grisly remnants sent tumbling away to splash harmlessly into the gentle waves cresting on the white sandy beach.

As the lambent corona finally faded away, there was no sign of the cone. But standing on the bridge of the aircraft carrier, the captain of the São Paulo felt deep in his guts that the enemy machine had not been caught in the massive explosion. Although, how anything could have escaped the gargantuan blast seemed absolutely impossible.

As a second wing of SuperPumas rose from the flight deck to head for Compose Island to start emergency rescue operations, there came a low rumble of something breaking the sound barrier. But the soft noise was lost in the combined roar of the gunship’s engines and the horrible crackling of the spreading inferno that completely engulfed the ruined launch facility.