Kill Decision(141)
McKinney studied the chart along with Foxy. “So we run it aground. How do we get away?”
“The Ebba Maersk has an escape boat too. Assuming the crew didn’t have a chance to launch it, we cover ourselves in colony pheromone and head for the escape pod just before we run aground on the shoals.”
The ship’s captain was just shaking his head in confusion. “What the hell is everyone talking about—parasitic wasps and ants? What does this have to do with drones?”
Evans waved him off, looking considerably calmer than he’d been. “Believe me, ignorance is bliss.” He looked to Odin, McKinney, and Foxy. “Well, it’s big of you to take one for the team, guys. Best of luck.”
Ripper was studying the pheromone canister. “Don’t get too excited, Mort. We still need to chart a course to ram the Ebba Maersk.”
“But they’re going to—”
Odin turned to her. “Why, Ripper?”
“What if you fail, sir? This ship needs to already be on track to intercept, otherwise there won’t be time to catch up.” She jabbed a finger down onto the chart. “Which means this ship will be inside colony territory before we can be positive you’ve succeeded—at which point we can break off and head for safety.”
Evans’s eyes went wide. “For how long?”
Odin studied the map. “Probably fifteen minutes to a half hour.”
“It beats two hours plus.”
Odin nodded, then turned to the others. “She’s right. Any objections?”
Evans raised his hand. No one else moved.
“So that means we all have jobs to do. Let’s get moving, people. We’re leaving within the hour.”
CHAPTER 30
The Swarm
Linda McKinney watched Odin gently playing catch with Huginn and Muninn on the deck of the Tonsberg, near the Sikorsky helicopter. She knew he was saying his good-byes, since it seemed likely they would not return.
He looked over to her, and McKinney came alongside and tossed a pellet of food to Muninn. The raven caught it without difficulty.
“We’ll be back.”
He was stone-faced. “I hope you’re right about this, Professor.”
Foxy was finishing up the twin pheromone canister rig on the nose of the chopper. A wrench clattered to the metal deck and he stood. “Well, this is what we’ve got.”
McKinney and Odin turned to see that the twin metal canisters had been clamped into place with fire extinguisher brackets bolted below the chopper’s nose. The nozzles of both were aimed straight at the fuselage, and a braided copper wire ran through a hole drilled in the windscreen.
Foxy ran his finger along the copper wire. “Pull on this and it directly depresses the nozzle valves.” He gave it the barest tug, and a cloud of pheromone vapor sprayed the chopper, leaving a wet spot two feet in diameter. “Voilà. What do you think?”
Odin examined the assembly and tugged forcefully at it, trying to shake the canister loose. He looked up at McKinney.
She nodded. “Simple’s good. How do we detach it for the run to the ship’s bridge?”
Foxy leaned in and threw the clamp lever, popping the canister bracket loose. “That easy. Then we depress the valve by hand.”
“Let me see that. . . .” McKinney extended her hand and took the canister from him. “We need to dose ourselves too—for when we land.” She pressed her finger down on the nozzle and sprayed herself with the odorless, colorless perfluorocarbon. It nonetheless felt moist and cool as she could feel it evaporating slowly. She handed the canister to Odin.
“How long does the coverage last?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. So watch how they behave toward you. If they start getting aggressive, you need another dose.”
Foxy sprayed himself as well, and then reclamped the canister into place on the nose of the chopper.
Just then they heard the deep growl of a powerful engine, and they turned to see a new silver Bentley sedan drive up a ramp from the lower deck, leap the apex, and screech to a sliding halt in front of them. Steel deck plating crudely welded across all its windows marred the beautiful car, with burn marks at the connection points lending the appearance of smeared mascara. There were small view ports in the steel plates. After a moment the passenger door opened with difficulty, and Evans got out. Beyond him Smokey was behind the wheel.
“What do you think? The Mulsanne armored edition. Some billionaire in Hong Kong will be very disappointed with our mods.”
“Can’t say much for the styling.”
Evans thumbed in the direction of the ramp. “There’s six more wrapped in plastic down there. Buses, tractors, earth movers. And there’s gonna be a BMW shortage in Beijing if this ship goes down.”