“The Senate voted fifty-one to forty-five,” the voice at Space Control continued. “I repeat, fifty-one to forty-five, with sixteen abstentions, against the relief measure! Jefferson, do you copy?”
So! The vote had been a lot closer than Carmen had predicted. That must have been one blitzkrieg of a speech.
Kaitlin wondered, too, if there was a kind of hidden message here from the senator. Colorado Springs was making a special effort to make sure she knew the results of the senate vote. Was Carmen behind that? Perhaps telling her that there was more support for the Europa Relief Expedition in Congress than expected?
Damn…no. You could go crazy trying to figure all the hidden angles. She couldn’t let that distract her from what she had to do.
The static-blasted voice from Earth was continuing to speak.
“Jefferson, there is no relief expedition, and we do not have properly logged flight plans for your boost, which appears to be aimed at Jupiter space. You are directed to cease acceleration at once! Jefferson! Do you read?” There was a long hesitation before the speaker added, “Over!” She could hear the frustration in his voice as he handed the ball back to the outbound A-M cruiser, as he wondered what else to say, how else he could convince, before beginning the next interminable lag-time wait.
Kaitlin exchanged another long look with Marshal, then shrugged. “I’m having a lot of trouble hearing him, Captain. How about you?”
“Well, that’s the trouble with these steady-thrust ships,” he told her. “With Earth almost directly astern, we’re trying to hear signals coming straight up our exhaust trail. Hot plasma plays the very hell with reception.”
She picked up the microphone. “Space Control, this is the Jefferson,” she said. “I am having trouble hearing your transmission.” Technically, either Reynolds or the Captain should be speaking for the ship, but she’d insisted. This plot had been her idea, after all, and she wanted to assume full responsibility.
Even for the lies.
“Space Control,” she continued, “this is Colonel Kaitlin Garroway, of the One-MSEF. We are deploying on extended…maneuvers. We are exercising our right of free passage through open space, as allowed by all current international space treaties. We are not engaged in any relief efforts, nor do we intend to challenge any vessel or military force unless we are challenged first.
“Colorado Springs…your signal is very weak, and breaking up. I cannot hear you, repeat, I cannot hear you. Over!”
She checked a time readout on the bulkhead. It would be five minutes before they heard back.
The Jefferson, carrying her cargo of 175 Marines of Alpha and Delta Companies, 1-MSEF, had been under one G acceleration for twenty-seven hours now; they were already three-tenths of an astronomical unit out from Earth and traveling at over 950 kilometers per second. At that distance, it took nearly two and a half minutes for a radio or laser signal to travel from the Jefferson to Earth, and a like time for the reply to make the trip back.
And the distance was growing greater with every passing second.
Kaitlin knew she was taking a fearful risk; in all probability, her career was over. She could play games with Colorado Springs now, but when she returned to Earth, there would be a hearing, and the Jefferson’s radio logs and comm buffer storage would prove her lie.
She just hoped they would let her take the blame herself. The worst part of her act of career suicide was that, most probably, it wouldn’t be just her who took the fall. Captain Marshal was putting his neck on the block as well. Hell, there was even the chance that Rob would be tainted as well, by sheer association.
But the real problem was Captain Steve Marshal, a lanky Texan with a blond buzz cut whom she’d first met through Rob ten years ago, at a party in Alexandria, Virginia. He’d been a close friend of the family ever since, and—to hear him tell it, at any rate—had battled his way through the e-work barricades in the Pentagon to win assignment to the Europa Relief Expedition for the Jefferson over the Washington, the Reagan, and the Dole.
He’d flown out to Quantico when he’d heard about Rob Junior, sat up all night with them, cried with them.
“You look…unhappy, Kait,” Steve said.
“I don’t like dragging my friends down with me,” she told him. “I still can’t say I’m sorry that I got you involved in this, Captain, because this wouldn’t be possible without you. But I hate the thought that you could find yourself facing a court martial because of me. Damn it, Steve, you could lose your command! You should never have agreed to this.”
He smiled. “Colonel, in the first place, I never could say no to a beautiful woman.