do, waiting for him to decide between life and death.
Quietly, but with steel in his voice. Hazard commanded, "I said general quarters, Mr. Feeney. Now!"
Feeney flinched as if suddenly awakened from a dream.
He pushed himself to the command console, unlatched the red cover over the general-quarters button and banged it eagerly with his fist. The action sent him recoiling upward and he had to put up a hand against the overhead to push himself back down to the deck. The alarm light began blinking red and they could hear its hooting even through the airtight hatches outside the CIC.
"Geneva, Miss Yang," Hazard said sternly over the howl of the alarm. "Feeney, see that the crew is at their battle stations. I want the satellites under our control on full automatic, prepared to shoot down anything that moves if it isn't in our pre-cleared data bank. And Mr. Varshni, has that damage-control party gotten under way yet?"
The two young men rushed toward the hatch, bumping each other in their eagerness to follow their commander's orders. Hazard almost smiled at the Laurel and Hardy aspect of it. Lieutenant Yang pushed herself to the comm console and anchored her softboots on the Velcro strip fastened to the deck there.
"Miss Stromsen, you are the duty officer. I am depending on you to keep me informed of the status of all systems."
"Yessir!"
Keep them busy. Hazard told himself. Make them concentrate on doing their jobs and they won't have time to be frightened.
"Encountering interference, sir," reported Yang, her eyes on the comm displays. "Switching to emergency frequency."
Jamming, thought Hazard.
"Main comm antenna overheating," Stromsen said. She glanced down at her console keyboard, then up at the displays again. "I think they're attacking the antennas with lasers, sir. Main antenna out. Secondaries ..." she shrugged and gestured toward the baleful red lights strung across her keyboard. "They're all out, sir."
"Set up a laser link," Hazard commanded. "They can't jam that. We've got to let Geneva know what's happening."
"Sir," said Yang, "Geneva will not be within our horizon for another forty-six minutes."
"Try signaling the commsats. Topmost priority."
"Yes, sir."
Got to let Geneva know. Hazard repeated to himself. If anybody can help us, they can. If Buckbee's pals haven't put one of their own people into the comm center down there. Or staged a coup. Or already knocked out the commsats. They've been planning this for a long time.
They've got it all timed down to the microsecond.
He remembered the dinner two months earlier, the night before he left to take command of the Hunter. I've known about it since then. Hazard said to himself. Known about it but didn't want to believe it. Known about it and done nothing. Buckbee was right. I killed those six kids. I should have seen that the bastards would strike without warning.
It had been in the equatorial city of Belem, where the Brazilians had set up their space launching facility. The IPF was obligated to spread its launches among all its space-capable member nations, so Hazard had been ordered to assemble his crew at Belem for their lift into orbit.
The night before they left, Hazard had been invited to dinner by an old Navy acquaintance who had already put in a three month hitch in orbit with the Peacekeepers and was now on Earthside duty.
His name was Cardillo. Hazard had known him, somewhat distantly, as a fellow submariner, commander of attack boats rather than the missile carriers Hazard himself had captained. Vince Cardillo had a reputation for being a hard nose who ran an efficient boat, if not a particularly happy one. He had never been really close to Hazard: their chemistries were too different. But this specific sweltering evening in a poorly air-conditioned restaurant in downtown Belem, Cardillo acted as if they shared some old fraternal secret between them.
Hazard had worn his IPF summer-weight uniform: pale blue with gold insignia bordered by space
Quietly, but with steel in his voice. Hazard commanded, "I said general quarters, Mr. Feeney. Now!"
Feeney flinched as if suddenly awakened from a dream.
He pushed himself to the command console, unlatched the red cover over the general-quarters button and banged it eagerly with his fist. The action sent him recoiling upward and he had to put up a hand against the overhead to push himself back down to the deck. The alarm light began blinking red and they could hear its hooting even through the airtight hatches outside the CIC.
"Geneva, Miss Yang," Hazard said sternly over the howl of the alarm. "Feeney, see that the crew is at their battle stations. I want the satellites under our control on full automatic, prepared to shoot down anything that moves if it isn't in our pre-cleared data bank. And Mr. Varshni, has that damage-control party gotten under way yet?"
The two young men rushed toward the hatch, bumping each other in their eagerness to follow their commander's orders. Hazard almost smiled at the Laurel and Hardy aspect of it. Lieutenant Yang pushed herself to the comm console and anchored her softboots on the Velcro strip fastened to the deck there.
"Miss Stromsen, you are the duty officer. I am depending on you to keep me informed of the status of all systems."
"Yessir!"
Keep them busy. Hazard told himself. Make them concentrate on doing their jobs and they won't have time to be frightened.
"Encountering interference, sir," reported Yang, her eyes on the comm displays. "Switching to emergency frequency."
Jamming, thought Hazard.
"Main comm antenna overheating," Stromsen said. She glanced down at her console keyboard, then up at the displays again. "I think they're attacking the antennas with lasers, sir. Main antenna out. Secondaries ..." she shrugged and gestured toward the baleful red lights strung across her keyboard. "They're all out, sir."
"Set up a laser link," Hazard commanded. "They can't jam that. We've got to let Geneva know what's happening."
"Sir," said Yang, "Geneva will not be within our horizon for another forty-six minutes."
"Try signaling the commsats. Topmost priority."
"Yes, sir."
Got to let Geneva know. Hazard repeated to himself. If anybody can help us, they can. If Buckbee's pals haven't put one of their own people into the comm center down there. Or staged a coup. Or already knocked out the commsats. They've been planning this for a long time.
They've got it all timed down to the microsecond.
He remembered the dinner two months earlier, the night before he left to take command of the Hunter. I've known about it since then. Hazard said to himself. Known about it but didn't want to believe it. Known about it and done nothing. Buckbee was right. I killed those six kids. I should have seen that the bastards would strike without warning.
It had been in the equatorial city of Belem, where the Brazilians had set up their space launching facility. The IPF was obligated to spread its launches among all its space-capable member nations, so Hazard had been ordered to assemble his crew at Belem for their lift into orbit.
The night before they left, Hazard had been invited to dinner by an old Navy acquaintance who had already put in a three month hitch in orbit with the Peacekeepers and was now on Earthside duty.
His name was Cardillo. Hazard had known him, somewhat distantly, as a fellow submariner, commander of attack boats rather than the missile carriers Hazard himself had captained. Vince Cardillo had a reputation for being a hard nose who ran an efficient boat, if not a particularly happy one. He had never been really close to Hazard: their chemistries were too different. But this specific sweltering evening in a poorly air-conditioned restaurant in downtown Belem, Cardillo acted as if they shared some old fraternal secret between them.
Hazard had worn his IPF summer-weight uniform: pale blue with gold insignia bordered by space
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