Now they had a front-row seat to a real, live Space Age chase. Thousands of men and women in EVA suits, assembling generations ships the size of small towns stopped their work to watch. Others in tugs and material movers found themselves caught up in the action. Workers headed to their living quarters rushed to the polyglass windows of personnel shuttles to view the spectacle as the ships weaved in and out between the giant, partially-assembled hulls.
In the Night Mare, Tiger rolled the ship hard to the right, just barely missing a huge engine assembly being pushed into place by a handful of robotic movers. He then skimmed over a barge yard, hoping to shake the Guard ships, but they stayed with him. These guys were better than he’d expected for two spaceport garrison pilots used to sitting on their ass most of the time. He was going to have to step up his game. And that was fine with him. A man should constantly test himself.
He loved it. He was finally back in space, and he was having fun again.
A colossal exhaust tube was coming up fast, and he barrel-rolled through it. He swore he caught a glimpse of some of the workers inside, arms raised and fists pumping, cheering him on. He wondered if this is how some of his moonshining ancestors felt, being chased by revenooers over the backroads of southern Tennessee. His Uncle Mud always said he had outlaw blood in him. He’d ever be restless, never satisfied unless he was living on the edge. He’d always figured it to be just more of the man’s backwoods ponderings. But lately, he was beginning to think maybe the old bastard was on to something.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t ya?” Shanique interrupted his reminiscing. “Just a bit too much, I’d say.”
“What?” He grinned like a teenage boy getting a gander at his first centerfold. “Can’t a man have a little fun ever’ once in a while?”
“Well, while yore having your fun, just know both of those ships have nuclear-tipped missiles. And they’ve just activated them.”
“I reckon they mean business,” Tiger’s eyebrow raised with a bit of a concern. “They won’t fire in the shipyard though. They wouldn’t risk the damage they might do inside here.”
True dat, White Baron, but even though you know it all, do be advised … while you’re putting on a free show for everyone working here, they got reinforcements coming in from Luna and Asia. They’re gonna try to box you in.”
“They’ll try,” Tiger agreed. “But you can outrun anything they got, can’t you?”
“I could when I was made. Hell, I dunno what they’ve come out with since. What I look like? Popular Science? Besides, I don’t have to outrun ‘em, if you’ll just let me show yo—”
“Hold on!” Tiger cut her off as he rolled hard right and shot out into clear space. “Here they come!”
Shaniqua sighed audibly.
Men!
***
When the pilot of the lead lunar-based interceptors finally got a visual on the Night Mare, he knew he was out of his league. The strange ship, which moved like nothing he’d ever seen, and burned blue-green exhaust, looked like something his kid drew on his 3D artboard.
“Holy Harry, what the hell was that?” he shouted into his transmitter mic. “Is Space Ghost for real?”
“Just keep pushing that bogey toward the Grand Orbital,” he was instructed by one of the original Von Braun pilots. “We got something for him waitin’ on the other side.”
A few seconds later, the Von Braun interceptors rocketed by, newer and sleeker German-built Jackals. They were fast, the fastest in the Guard fleet, but even they were having trouble staying with the black rocket ship. The lunar ships fell in behind them.
A thousand miles away, high above the continent of Africa, in orbit above the equator, an automated missile platform came online. Its tracking system instantly began scanning the skies, searching for the craft without a legitimate transponder code. Yet, it was having difficulty locking onto the bogey. It quickly became apparent to the analysts at Space Guard Central Command back on Luna that the strange ship had no defining scanner signature.
It’d been built with some kind of stealth technology.
The order came down from high up almost instantly.
Detain or destroy at all costs, but under no circumstances was the strange craft to be allowed to escape.
The boys in the Command Center shrugged. Typical reasoning. It was a lot less trouble to kill something than it was to catch it.
***
The Grand Orbital Hotel was exactly what the name implied, a large, forty story luxury establishment, floating high above the earth, giving its guests breathtaking views of their planet from space.
Every room faced Earth. Every room had floor-to-ceiling windows and unobstructed, panoramic views. Every restaurant, coffee shop, gift shop, day spa, bar and pool deck had the same. The concept was simple … no matter where a guest was in the hotel, they were treated to a view of the planet few ever got. They could eat prime rib or sushi and watch hurricanes form in the Atlantic. They could sip wine in their most elegant evening attire and watch entire continents light up as night fell across the land, all to the relaxing sounds of piano bar melodies. Parents could teach their children geography over brunch with the best map ever made. They could watch scramjets arc into the edge of space as they crossed oceans at hypersonic speed, carrying passengers halfway around the world in a matter of hours. And they could
