reason for them to believe us, though. And they’d still want Camp David and all the stuff here.” A good reason to conspicuously leave, I thought. That would probably occur to them.
Would that constitute quitting one’s post before being properly relieved? Does the principle still apply if your commander in chief deserts first?
The boys brought up the metal boxes and left them under the windows. We said good-bye to the soldiers and went out into the rain, following Paul and the president.
On the other side of the tarmac runway, there was a small control shack with radar and satellite dishes. Two men in blue flight suits stood on the porch, watching. The pilots of the two jets, probably. They waved casually, and I waved back. Would they fly after us? Probably not.
Or maybe they didn’t want to hang around Camp David, either.
As we approached the NASA jet, a strip of fuselage swung down, becoming a staircase. No wide Martians to worry about.
The others hurried up the steps. Paul put a hand on Boyer’s shoulder. “Wait.”
“What for?”
“Just wait.” I stepped slowly past them as the president shook loose. “You can’t—”
“I think I can. This is my plane, and you’re not getting on it.”
“Don’t you dare. I can have you shot down.”
Paul looked at the assault rifle in his hands, and smiled. “Shall I pretend you didn’t say that?” He gestured for me to go up the steps and then he followed me, backwards, keeping his eye on Boyer.
“You think they won’t obey me.”
“Pretty sure they won’t. Go back and ask them.”
He looked around, back up to the lodge, then the control shack. The two pilots stared back.
Then he started walking. “I’m going to stand right behind your exhaust. If you start the jet, you’ll be a murderer.”
Paul stepped inside and slapped a red button by the door, and turned to look down on the president. “You do what you will,” he said as the stairs rose off the ground. “This thing doesn’t have a rear view mirror.”
I sat down and buckled up. “Is that true?”
He sat in the pilot seat and the harness clamped itself around him. “Well, sure. Where would you put a mirror?” A flatscreen blinked on and showed the black tarmac behind him.
The president stepped into view and planted his feet wide apart, standing with his hands on his hips.
“All this and stupid, too.” He tapped a sequence of keys.
“You’re going to—”
“Relax. The nozzle’s more than a meter above his head. I could roast him if I goosed it, but I’ll just bleed in a little fuel and creep away.” He put on a headset. “Control, this is NASA 1.” He paused. “Roger. We had to leave one behind for weight limitations. Taking off due north, into the wind? When we’re over the clouds I’ll take a heading of about 250°, destination Northern California.” He nodded. “Roger, thanks. Same to you guys. Over and out.”
The engine started with a loud pop, and I saw Boyer take off running. With a low whine, the plane inched forward.
“Everybody stay buckled in till I finish turning left above the weather. Then the flight attendant will come around with drinks.” He laughed. “Oh, hell. We left him behind.”
8
Nobody had said anything about drawing fire as we took off. I supposed whatever was going to happen would happen. Paul kept the plane low, treetop level, a minute or so after take-off, so I guess a person on the ground, with forest overhead, probably wouldn’t have time to aim at us and fire.
Then I was pressed back into the seat and the plane roared and rattled as it screamed for altitude. We suddenly broke out of the clouds into afternoon sun but kept accelerating, almost straight up. After a minute, he throttled down and leveled off, green rounded mountaintops drifting by underneath us, sticking out of the misty clouds.
The cabin became quiet. Paul turned around in his seat and spoke normally. “Sorry; should’ve warned you. I wanted to get out
Would that constitute quitting one’s post before being properly relieved? Does the principle still apply if your commander in chief deserts first?
The boys brought up the metal boxes and left them under the windows. We said good-bye to the soldiers and went out into the rain, following Paul and the president.
On the other side of the tarmac runway, there was a small control shack with radar and satellite dishes. Two men in blue flight suits stood on the porch, watching. The pilots of the two jets, probably. They waved casually, and I waved back. Would they fly after us? Probably not.
Or maybe they didn’t want to hang around Camp David, either.
As we approached the NASA jet, a strip of fuselage swung down, becoming a staircase. No wide Martians to worry about.
The others hurried up the steps. Paul put a hand on Boyer’s shoulder. “Wait.”
“What for?”
“Just wait.” I stepped slowly past them as the president shook loose. “You can’t—”
“I think I can. This is my plane, and you’re not getting on it.”
“Don’t you dare. I can have you shot down.”
Paul looked at the assault rifle in his hands, and smiled. “Shall I pretend you didn’t say that?” He gestured for me to go up the steps and then he followed me, backwards, keeping his eye on Boyer.
“You think they won’t obey me.”
“Pretty sure they won’t. Go back and ask them.”
He looked around, back up to the lodge, then the control shack. The two pilots stared back.
Then he started walking. “I’m going to stand right behind your exhaust. If you start the jet, you’ll be a murderer.”
Paul stepped inside and slapped a red button by the door, and turned to look down on the president. “You do what you will,” he said as the stairs rose off the ground. “This thing doesn’t have a rear view mirror.”
I sat down and buckled up. “Is that true?”
He sat in the pilot seat and the harness clamped itself around him. “Well, sure. Where would you put a mirror?” A flatscreen blinked on and showed the black tarmac behind him.
The president stepped into view and planted his feet wide apart, standing with his hands on his hips.
“All this and stupid, too.” He tapped a sequence of keys.
“You’re going to—”
“Relax. The nozzle’s more than a meter above his head. I could roast him if I goosed it, but I’ll just bleed in a little fuel and creep away.” He put on a headset. “Control, this is NASA 1.” He paused. “Roger. We had to leave one behind for weight limitations. Taking off due north, into the wind? When we’re over the clouds I’ll take a heading of about 250°, destination Northern California.” He nodded. “Roger, thanks. Same to you guys. Over and out.”
The engine started with a loud pop, and I saw Boyer take off running. With a low whine, the plane inched forward.
“Everybody stay buckled in till I finish turning left above the weather. Then the flight attendant will come around with drinks.” He laughed. “Oh, hell. We left him behind.”
8
Nobody had said anything about drawing fire as we took off. I supposed whatever was going to happen would happen. Paul kept the plane low, treetop level, a minute or so after take-off, so I guess a person on the ground, with forest overhead, probably wouldn’t have time to aim at us and fire.
Then I was pressed back into the seat and the plane roared and rattled as it screamed for altitude. We suddenly broke out of the clouds into afternoon sun but kept accelerating, almost straight up. After a minute, he throttled down and leveled off, green rounded mountaintops drifting by underneath us, sticking out of the misty clouds.
The cabin became quiet. Paul turned around in his seat and spoke normally. “Sorry; should’ve warned you. I wanted to get out
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