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Desperately Seeking Sergei (part 1 of 2)
01/12/2006 . Source: Geoff Willmetts 
A Psi-Kicks story by GF Willmetts. The words that appear as a mish-mash is actually equating from Cyrillic. If you have a Cyrillic font and can download and implement then you'll see as it was intended. This should not interfere with your enjoyment from the story as its there for local colour.
The blades of the helicopter gathered and flickered sunshine in the early morning as it rose and left the beach. Two individuals watched it leave as the scattering fine sand swept passed them as if they were protected by an invisible bubble. Had the helicopter crew looked back, all they would have seen was the mini-sandstorm sweeping down the beach and effortlessly around them. The chopper dipped and sped into the distance, its crew uncaring for such details. It had little time to waste returning to the aircraft carrier let alone see what happened on the island. Not for fuel but more for a safe haven if something went wrong as if an aircraft carrier, even such as the HMS Illustrious, would save it or the world from this threat. The message had been made explicitly clear. All electrical equipment was likely to be disrupted in the latest emergency and choppers in flight were no exception. Landing was a priority and certainly not on this island.
'This is hardly going to be the safest place in the world for you to be, Court.' Chris Lancier commented as they walked up the beach.
'Would I let you do this alone, Chris?' asked Courtney Adams. 'I doubt if anywhere is going to be safe if this goes wrong. At least you chose a nice paradise island for us to die on if you make a mistake. Better than hanging around on the Illustrious. Did you have to argue the toss with those scientists?'
'With knowledge comes opinion and argument. They only saw their own expertise. I had the complete picture.'
'Shared from their heads.'
Chris Lancier scratched his head and looked inland at the atoll and stripped off his flight suit. Courtney Adams, his Blank, did the same. The contrast in their clothing was quite apparent. Courtney wore tee-shirt and shorts, dressed for the beach. In his customary black, Lancier looked like he was ready for winter.
'Do you know how long we've got?'
'Farsighters are as vague as ever whenever we're in the field. Psionic censorship. Can't see how I'm going to affect the future. Now or later. News blackout. All they could confirm was Sergei's landing point. We're on our own, Court.'
Stowing their helmets and flight suits under a palm tree, Lancier and Adams headed in land. The clock was counting...
It had been for some time...
It wasn't like that six weeks ago. There was always plenty of time then. The Stable Consultancy Farsighters had predicted two meteors coming towards the Earth. World-wide disaster imminent. The smaller one, Sergei, would cause some damage. Its bigger brother, Ivan, would make the 2004 tsunami look like small potatoes in comparison. The world might recover one day but the devastation and loss of lives would be incalculable. How much damage was deferred by temporal censorship which meant Psionic involvement. Discrete inquiries verified their prediction. Normally, both meteors would have missed the Earth but the Moon's position had changed all of that. Six weeks wasn't long to do anything and even had the meteors been spotted earlier, there would still not be much they could do to deflect them. All military options ineffective. They'd still be heading this way. This wouldn't be a near miss like recent occasions.
What was worse was that there was no real way to stop the meteors with current technology. Even if they could, to destroy them would just fill the skies with fragments of unknown size and compound the danger over an even larger area. Something for everyone in fact as it would scatter millions of fragments pouring down on the Earth. Might give spectacular lightshows as they burn up but would make it difficult to spot a shard large enough to do serious collateral damage. This wasn't an option.
They could hardly alert the public to the danger. Where could they go? Nowhere was safe. Panic would cause more problems than solving them. Officially, denial was the answer. The meteors would miss the Earth, they would say should anyone point them out. Not by much but the Earth would be safe. Anyone saying otherwise would be classed as a crank or have a D notice and discrete imprisonment to keep them quiet until it was all over. It would be easier to admit they were wrong after the event. A miscalculation. Something not allowed for. The Moon itself, which was the truth anyway. Deniability at its best. Assuming there was anyone to announce or even hear the message.
Behind the scenes was a different matter. The Stable Consultancy in its capacity as a library resource had access to a wide selection of astronomers, physicists and mathematicians who could chart the meteors. These had already been identified years ago, both named after Russian astronomers who had tagged them. It was just coincidence that they were going to come down within days of each other. The meteors weren't even in the same trajectory. It might have been possible to stop the smaller one, Sergei, on the way down but Big Ivan was another matter. The reports had been handed back quickly to the Stable Psionics to look at.
The message from the Whitehall bureaucracy was simple, 'What can you do? What do you need? When can you do it? Who will do it?'
As if everything could be that simple.
The focus was on Chris Lancier, the Stable's only telekinetic, and only he really knew his own capabilities. Lancier was also the first to admit that he might not have the power to do anything. Still, he had a plan even if it did need a lot of international co-operation.
In the end, it had come down to a simple demonstration in front of selected members of state from various governments across the world, each with a single scientific advisor to verify the information. Using a spinning globe of the Earth, pieces of rock were directed to show what was about to happen without action. Both left sizeable dents in the globe with a reminder that the target was not going to be as flexible as that. They were left in a locked room to go over the figures before the solution was demonstrated.
Missiles were to be fired from across the country to manoeuvre Sergei and bounce it across the Earth's atmosphere like a pebble to a point where it could be projected back at Big Ivan and nudge it enough so neither meteors landed. There had been an immediate protest from all the scientists present. Their missiles didn't have the range or blast power short of nuclear needed. British scientists declared they had 'The Lancet Device', diagrams provided but no technical details, that could provide the final boost and more important, a bigger version used in the South Pacific to project Sergei back into space. It wasn't totally untested, just never been used on such a large mass before. Better to tell them that than say it all depended on the abilities of one telekinetic Psionic whose life had to be threatened to ensure a survival response that would save everybody. After all, who would believe that? If they had mentioned telekinesis the forum would have ended on the spot because these people didn't have the security clearance and those that did wouldn't be allowed here. There was nothing else on the table. Agreement had to be total. There was no time to argue.
Well, some of the countries did. The Americans were unhappy. The Russians, likewise. Probably because secret launch sites had been pointed out in both nations but also with the realisation they had nothing in their arsenals that were long-range enough and couldn't boss the situation. What they had was simply too destructive to try. Nuclear fallout would be as bad as the meteorites. The pair of men from either side would not have had a clue about the Stable. Someone above them might realise Stable involvement but wouldn't be disclosed even to their security clearance. Even with a problem of this magnitude, security clearance was never high enough. This was all on a need to know basis. All was needed was mutual agreement to commit missiles. There wasn't any other option available.
With things being kept quiet, the most that would be disclosed about all these successive missile launches around the world was a military exercise. Nukes were out but a selection of other materials were needed at each missile site depending on the height required. Chief amongst them were some war-heads packed with titanium, light but durable enough to make distant impacts. High explosive yields were always available. Others would have to explode but no direct hits, even if they reached Sergei. Co-ordinates would have to be continually reassessed to ensure that Sergei was kicked into the right position. Short of a multiple nukes, there was nothing to stop Big Ivan. A member of the British team would be at every launch site to provide immediate assistance...
It took about half an hour to reach the plateau at a leisurely walk. The island was mostly a wildlife haven, mostly for boobies and terns, although strangely now deserted. It was as if the birds knew something was going to happen and had made an emergency evacuation to a nearby island. The US laid claim to the islands and had even proposed using it as a nuclear dump but had decided against it decades ago. The example of the Marshall Islands where a couple of the atolls were still radioactive made it politically incorrect even for the Americans. This was the nearest dry land to Sergei's crash point and at the edge of a tectonic plate had the potential for a tsunami. There wasn't much choice though, unless Lancier wanted to stand on the bow of a submarine or even the aircraft carrier that was moving out of the immediate area. The disruption to their electrics made this a poor option at best as there was no way to gauge the potential for electrical disruption or its range. The Illustrious' captain had to be reassured that the effect coming was not nuclear in nature and his crew had been drilled in both turning off all their equipment as well as rebooting it all afterwards. Optical disks were deemed the most likely not to be wiped if they were slow turning things off.
With a few gestures, Lancier directed some rocks to building them both backrests and arranged pillows to rest on them from Courtney's open bag. A minor extension of his boosted telekinesis. Without Sheena Ramone's talent, it was easier to move things that were in relative motion. At the moment, anything nearby would do as it was told. Lancier had to smile at the explanation he'd given for that. At the end of the day, the secret was all in relative motion and he was just doing it at a larger scale now.
Courtney extended a parasol to sit under. She almost wished they had brought deckchairs or camp chairs. Her tee-shirt and shorts hardly helped lose her sweat as she unpacked various bottles and foodstuffs into the cool before swishing a fan. Lancier was still dressed in his usual black, unaffected by the temperature. Wasn't even raising a sweat, although like the Blank, was also now wearing sunglasses. If anything, he thrived on heat. Most of the Psionics did, all exhibiting a heat loss that ambient temperature did little to stabilise. The most the Stable scientists could determine was that psionic ability depended on warmth to be most effective, probably to agitate molecules. It was hardly surprising that the Psionics preferred the tropics to the colder climes. With Lancier's ability, the warmer he was, the better he functioned. The biggest concession he made was rolling his sleeves up a little. As Courtney Adams fanned herself, all she wished for was Lancier's tolerance to the heat and hoped they'd brought enough water to satisfy both their thirsts. She could swear that he hydrolysed it as a secondary energy source.
The island was on the equator and the sun would remain overhead for some time. Courtney glanced up at it before turning away. The after-image still left two brief spots in her eyes, despite the sunglasses.
'Can't see anything.'
'You shouldn't have looked up, Court.'
'Shouldn't Sergei be visible by now?'
'Hasn't reached the end of the bounce yet. Bloody French almost cocked it up when they didn't fire at the right time and to the given co-ordinates. I don't think they believed the information they were given.'
'Having you there saved a lot of problems. Just as well you didn't have to boost a Polaris from a sub. You clocked a lot of air miles with this. No ill effects? Jet lag?'
Lancier shook his head. 'Sheena boosted my scoop as high as we dared. Seems to be having a rejuvenating effect on everything I do, the longer I do it. Security keeping the number of people down was useful as well. That would have been a bigger headache.'
He clicked his fingers and, waving them a little, projected a flame high into the sky. A parlour trick of setting fire to some oxygen using the ambient atmosphere as a fuelling agent. Even better than his usual trick of arcing electricity,
Their radio clicked into life. 'Roger your signal, Lancet One. Sergei presence zero.'
They didn't reply. The radio was only to confirm what Lancier knew.
'Do you think there'll be any long-term effects? You know, keep the knowledge of those maths and physics experts you met in your noggin?'
'Thought you were going to ask whether scooping would go back to normal?'
Scooping. The Psionic slang for telekinesis. Although it was Lancier's prime ability, he was also a full-range Psionic with many of the other abilities the low-key Psionics only possessed singly. His most prominent other ability was to Share. Be close to another Psionic and Lancier could develop their abilities. How long they lasted depended on how much they were used. Unused, the ability could atrophy until the next time he Shared. With Normals, it took a little more effort but Psionics could, for a limited period of time, acquire their skills or knowledge. Lancier's boost had made it very easy to absorb the knowledge of key mathematicians, physicists and astronomers rather than take a crowd with him offering different information and opinions. Even so, a bunch of them were waiting on the Illustrous when they arrived. All he needed was solid fact. Where the meteorites were coming down and the trajectories to snooker one off the other. Lancier didn't consciously make sense of what he was carrying in his head though asked a question and he would automatically give the right answer from this knowledge. This kind of boost was unprecedented. Who knows how long this boosted state would last?
'Well, will it?' Courtney asked again. 'You said yourself that the survival mechanism probably wouldn't need a boost.'
'It's more an insurance. There's always a fear that bouncing Sergei would waste my talent. It needs conscious control for direction. Being able to call on more resources is better than being found wanting. What limit is there on survival? Might even stop me burning out.'
'What does scooping feel like now? Compared to the way you normally reach out?'
Lancier shrugged and leaned back onto his rock rest and then scooped a light pillow from Courtney's bag and tucked it behind his head. 'A firmer grip. Easier to move things. Nothing much beyond that. Don't expect me just to throw Sergei. It's a big meteorite. Mustn't get so scared that I kick it out of reach. I felt some of its scale when I was nudging it with rockets. If I have any conscious control, it's more to direct any available energy so it moves in a different direction. If I make a mistake, I doubt if I can do the same trick with Big Ivan.'
Courtney Adams looked around. What energy? If there was a volcano crater hidden under the plateau it was long extinct. A blast from it would burn them both...burn them both! There just wasn't any energy around that the Psionic could re-direct. Scooping might be mind over matter but all it could do was direct. All of Lancier's scooping had more to do with moving something that was already in motion. The boost had changed that a lot but not that much. He would still have to have some means to direct Sergei in a different direction.
The Blank found her bottle of sun-block and began to rub the cream onto her exposed flesh. Lancier gave a slight snore. Sound asleep. Jet lag must have slowly been creeping up on him even he hadn't admitted it. The Illustrious would alert them when Sergei hit the atmosphere. She only hoped that they didn't sleep through the entire event. For the moment, she'd have to be content to drink her bottled water and try not to appear so restless herself and stay awake.
'Lancet One? Lancet One? Do you copy our signal?'
A different voice. 'Lancet One? This is Forbes. Are you sleeping on the job? We have positive track...Sun is in partial eclipse in our area. We thought Sergei was supposed to be a pebble compared to Ivan...'
Courtney Adams yawned and looked up. The sun had developed a hole.
She blinked again. A hole?!
Looking around, Lancier was not in sight. The hole was getting larger and turning the sun into an eclipse.
'Shit!' The Blank flicked on the radio mike. 'Lancet One here. Can you start feeding us numbers and perigee for Sergei?'
'Roger, Lancet One. Coming in fast. Ten miles...'
Courtney Adams flicked up the gain on the radio and looked around. Her Psionic charge wasn't on the plateau. Sparks on the Illustrious was reading off numbers. Large numbers. All in miles. Lancier found distance easier to visualise them than metric.
'Lost something, Court?'
The Blank turned to see Lancier behind her. 'Had to take a leak.'
'Sergei's on track. Look.'
'Been that way for a while.'
'And you didn't wake me up?'
'What could you have done?'
Courtney Adams stopped open-mouthed. Not a lot when it came down to it. This was Chris Lancier's show. Like all Blanks, she was just an undetectable observer.
'There's a small gully over there, Court. Get yourself down there below zero feet.'
'You're letting it get that far?'
'No choice. Moon influence. Big Ivan's perigee isn't low enough. Sergei's a little early and Big Ivan's running late. Got to sync them if this is going to work and...'
'And what?'
'I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing. Is it centrifugal or centripetal force I've got to worry about?'
'Does it matter? Christ, Chris, you told me you were just going to go along with your instincts. Get scared a little.'
'Two miles, Lancet One.'
'Perhaps it's the temperature drop. You're not warm enough.' The sun was nearly into an eclipse now.
In the background, a voice was muttering, 'Why didn't he want the distance in kilometres?'
Lancier looked vague. Almost uninterested in what was going on.
'Chris?! Look at me. You need to reach out. Sergei is coming down...on our heads! You need to do something now!'
Lancier looked up and dropped his glasses. Sergei was huge in the sky now and the sun was totally blotted out. The only spot in front of their eyes now was the tumbling meteor. Temperature was still dropping. Maybe that was the problem. It had gotten very cold.
'It's bigger than I thought.'
'Big Ivan is even bigger. Reach out, Chris. Scoop Sergei or we're both dead.'
The telekinetic Psionic moved back and did what appeared to be an open wrist flip upwards and opened his hand. Courtney felt flushed as her hair suddenly stood on end. Static discharge or heat from the meteor. Both felt pretty close. Things were happening.
'One mile...Half mile...Radio bla...'
The radio message didn't get any further. There could only be controlled panic on board the Illustrious. Even being told something was going to happen could not disguise what was happening.
Sergei was motionless in the air. Lancier's arm was straight up and his hand flat and slowly clenched it as if he was holding the meteor. Beyond that nothing dramatic. No meaningless gestures. No signs of pain just intense concentration. He just stood there, unmoving but totally focused. Not really there. Refusing Sergei its need to crash on their heads. Courtney figured he was looking or rather scanning for Big Ivan.
The friction from entering the atmosphere had the meteorite on fire but Lancier's psionics seemed to be screening them both from the heat. Courtney Adams could only look up in awe at the pock-marked surface above her. It was that close that she could swear she could reach out and touch it. That would be ridiculous...she'd be burnt to a crisp.
A flash of a firework or rather the Avery pistol amongst Courtney's baggage had gone off. It zapped her bag off the plateau. It would have been worse had it been aimed at them or would whatever was screening them have protected them. Screening - the Psionic slang for such things. 'Shield' was used for the psionic protection. Why have every disguise label begin with 'S'? Courtney swallowed on a dry throat as she realised she was rambling. She was only a Blank. Right now, a very scared Blank who couldn't eve hug her Psionic for protection in case she distracted him.
Lancier wasn't even focusing on what was above their heads. 'Wait for it...Big Ivan's not there yet.' One part of his mind was reminding him to give her a progress report.
Pro-mode. Lancier was totally on the job. Blinkered. Once the job was on, that's all they saw. Nothing got in the way of that professional attitude. Mustn't interfere. His psionics were defensively shielding them both as he held control over Sergei.
'More velocity?' she offered.
'Not my doing. Just holding it steady. Have to let go now. Hope its enough.'
He opened his hand like some old-fashioned conjuror.
One second, Sergei was there. Next it wasn't. The blaze of the equatorial sun was back in an instance and Courtney was temporarily blinded, even with her sunglasses. It suddenly became hot again. Lancier just bunched his nose in his fingers and was looking straight ahead uncaring. He still wasn't really here. Sergei hadn't gone straight up but off at an angle, trailing a fiery tail which was diminishing with distance. Only then did she realise he'd thrown his sunglasses down earlier and were melting into a puddle on the ground. Looking around, what was left of the plateau vegetation was badly scorched. There wasn't much left of their rucksacks neither or the blankets they had rested on. There was only green grass in a small circle. The limit of his screen bubble protecting them both.
'Glad I didn't go to that gully.'
'Sorry, Court. What was that?'
'You told me to take shelter in that gully. I'd have been roasted if...'
'When did I say that?'
'Just before Sergei...'
Lancier shook his head. 'Must have been the sleep. Got too relaxed. One of our friend's advice without knowing all the facts.'
Whether that was Sergei or a side-effect of Lancier's sharing or scooping, Courtney had no way of knowing. She was just grateful that the chopper had been sent back to the Illustrious and not just for security reasons. She patted her hair down with little success. The static charge had given her a fizzled afro. She wished she had a mirror. Maybe not.
'Have you got enough juice to St. Elmo the Illustrious?'
'Do what?'
'The flame trick. Radio melted. We're out of contact or can you spake at someone on board so we can go home. You didn't burn out, did you?'
'Better than ever.' Lancier flicked his fingers and a jet of flame shot high into the air, even higher and wider than the first time.
'You weren't when Sergei was blocking the sun.'
Lancier winced. 'Can't really remember. All I can remember was I went for a leak...'
'Maybe you weren't hot enough. Body shock? The temp dropped awfully fast.'
The Psionic shrugged and closed his eyes briefly before opening them and rolling them as he digest the information. 'They're getting Illustrious on-line. Chopper is going through pre-flight. Less to turn on. They saw the flame. They seem happier now.'
'I wonder why. Can you scan their reaction?'
'Awe. Shock. Impressed. Happy. Lots of emotion. Hope they settle down before we get back. I hate that kind of fuss messing my head.'
'And Sergei? Has it hit Big Ivan yet?'
'Not yet. The speed's there but it'll take a few minutes.'
'Hope they're bringing some flight suits. I don't think we'll be able to get to our flight suits.'
'Sergei did get pretty close. What did you call what I did? Reach out?' Lancier stretched his arm out towards the beach and flicked his wrist. 'Catch!'
Two bundles arrived at their feet.
'Christ! Eat your heart out, Luke Skywalker.'
Lancier smiled and sat lightly on the ground. 'The chopper won't be here for half an hour. Your hair's a mess. You can have a dip in the sea if you like.'
'Would prefer fresh water.'
'I'll see what I can do.' He stepped away from her.
Suddenly, she was in the centre of a localised shower as Lancier scooped water from a stream below the summit down on her head. Courtney Adams didn't complain. Who would object to psionically directed cooled water at the equator?
The twin pilot trainer Harrier GR9 skimmed over the Pacific. Fuel planes were scheduled en route as they had on the way down except this time it was for only one jet. Lancier had talked to one of the pilots who had brought them across the Pacific to the Illustrious and skin scanned for quick depth share and walked away with a copy of the pilot's knowledge in his head. It would take longer than they had to retain the knowledge longer than a day or two but no one else needed to know that. It didn't take much persuasion to have the Harrier fuelled and they were away. Who was going to doubt 'Mr. Jones' that he could fly after his 'Lancet Device' had sent Sergei on its way? After all, his authority came direct from the Prime Minister.
Radar and Hubble confirmed that Sergei had hit Big Ivan with sufficient force and the bigger meteorite was moved a fraction enough to miss the Earth. Trajectories worked out showed it was looping out and that the Moon, for once, would help put it into a higher orbit and should avoid the Earth for the foreseeable future. The atmosphere aboard the key staff and scientists on the Illustrious was ecstatic. They might not have been crucial to the result but they were witnesses to the seemingly miracle of seeing Sergei doing the snooker shot and kicking Big Ivan's ass.
This emotion was quickly stemmed when the two consultants were returned to the aircraft carrier from the island. Mr. Jones stone-walled and had asked two simple questions:
'Where was Sergei?'
'What had happened to Sergei?'
The initial reaction was it was lost. 'Did it matter?
'Out of range.'
No it wasn't. With pin-point accuracy, Jones had pointed at the radar screen and had identified the speck that was Sergei. It had loss some of its mass in the collision but was still out there. Worse. It was still in decaying orbit around the Earth and was likely to come down in the Arctic Circle. Worse. Somewhere off Siberia. A place called Wrangel Island. Two days.
The island itself wasn't heavily populated but if it missed the island there was the Arctic Ocean and the last thing they needed was any more of the icecap melting. The fact so much of Sergei had come down intact from the first fall suggested that it was a lot denser than first thought. No one seemed concerned about the mass that the Lancet Device had held. There weren't many options and Lancier decided they needed to fly. It was still a danger. Any red tape would need to be covered en route especially as Russia had already signalled that they couldn't fly to Wrangel.
Courtney Adams slept much of the flight. There wasn't much she could do and Lancier was focused on flying the Harrier with a skill not his own. The only problem depended on how long this shared skill would last. They were flying into the sun so there was plenty of heat to keep Lancier charged up. All the Psionics' powers seem better in the heat but this was the first time she'd seen it nearly shutdown on the atoll. Chris Lancier had seemed out of it then again. This was also the first time he'd been boosted so much. He seemed fine now. He hadn't disclosed how it had affected him. Did he need more energy for any manipulation? It was thought long ago that scooping was more directional than actual psionic muscle thrust against an object. There were still discussions by Stable scientists trying to decide just what kind of force Lancier was actually manipulating when he scooped let alone where it came from. Something moving already could be shunted elsewhere. Faster if it moved with the spin of the Earth. It took brain energy but not nearly as much as it would take to physically move something.
One couldn't fly directly up the hemisphere. They were on the wrong side of the world for one thing and re-fuelling by Avros were better in the Atlantic than having to beg off America. There was also all kinds of winds and air traffic to avoid. Flying over the Arctic wasn't an option neither, especially as they knew about the blizzard conditions. Besides that, coming up from beneath was less likely to hit the Russian early warning system by staying over the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans although Courtney didn't believe for a minute that would stop Chris Lancier. He'd probably duck below radar trace anyway.
The latest Avro was coming into range with its fuel hose bucket down waiting for pick-up. Lancier automatically extended the Harrier's fuel pipe. A man was looking out the back of the Avro waving his hand with a mike in it.
Lancier flicked on the receiver.
'Mr. Jones? Pick up the...'
'Major Lyons, what can I do for you? Over.'
'I'm Major Lyons...sir. Russian reluctance might not all be political. Weather is down. Total blizzard. Your...er...Consultancy say that isn't a problem. Over.'
'Our Navy pick-up won't get through the ice in time. Over.'
'So it's faster by air? Over.'
'You won't get through, Mr. Jones. This is your last fuel stop. You can still reach Lossiemouth. Over.'
'Major Lyons, that isn't an option. Is there anything else? The tanks are nearly full. Over.'
'I was told to ask you to look after something called the Lancet Device. I presume it's safe? Over.'
'Wouldn't go anywhere without it. Disengaging line. Over.'
'Good luck, Mr. Jones. Over.'
'Not an option, Major, but I'll bear it in mind. Over and out.'
Lancier pulled back on the throttle and dropped the Harrier back before accelerating away.
'What was all that about, Chris?' The Blank had flicked on her mike.
'Military getting anxious and covering their backs. Probably puzzled why they hadn't intercepted my messages.'
'And you could hardly tell them you spake with Sheena and Philly. Did they sort it out?'
'After a few messages to Whitehall. The Admiralty were pissed that we knew their movements. They'll spend months looking for a security leak. What else is new?'
'What about this blizzard?'
'Flying over the top where possible. We'll be less than a speck on Russian radar compared to the blizzard. Scooping a little to conserve fuel. Early warning system will be muffled.'
'You feel sure we'll make it?'
'There's time to drop you off, Court.'
'And lose my danger money?'
'You'd better sleep again. Weather's going to be choppy further up and one of us needs to be awake when we land.'
'And when are you going to sleep?'
'Depends on how early we are. I'm feeling very focused at the moment.'
Pro-mode, Courtney decided. Probably enjoying flying the Harrier. The psi-kick from using their powers. The Blank looked at the controls in front of her. Very basic and turned off so there wouldn't be any accidents. The Harrier GR9 was the Sea Harrier's replacement and this was its trainer. Equipment-lite to allow two crew. Just because it was weaponless didn't mean they couldn't do anything. Her bag was stashed out of reach.
'You might be solar-charged, Chris, but is there anything to eat and drink?'
'You do that, Court, and we'll have to have outside toilets.' A bottle of water and a lunch pack of sandwiches drifted back towards her. 'I got these from the canteen before we took off. Just take sips of water, OK? Toilets are a long way off.'
Courtney, dropped her mask, turned a little and smiled up at the Psionic before sipping from the bottle. Always considerate. Lancier had turned his attention back to the jet. She wondered when and what he ate today. There were clouds ahead and he was determined to get above them. The Harrier lurched up in a rapid acceleration yet to the Blank it felt less than a roller-coaster. The Harrier was being fuelled and protected by other sources.
'What about you?'
'Busy. Different energy source. This is fun.'
The sun blazed down on the Harrier as the clouds raced by below them.
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