The Jupiter Plague

“Now we’re moving along; we’re in the air lock and that’s where you take over, Dr. Yasumura.”

“I will need tools, a multitester, portable scope and some things like that. I’ve talked this over with your engineers and they’ll give me everything I need. There are only one or two ways that Commander Rand could have disconnected the controls so that the inner door will not open, and once I crack into the control box there I’ll find out and open it up. Once we’re through that door we’ll go through the ship from bow to stern until we find what Rand meant when he wrote sick in ship. And I’ll find the log, see how the ship handled during the landing, the equations—”

“Just try to control your technical enthusiasm until you get there, Yasumura, we’re not in the ship yet. I suggest you get what gear you need from the engineers so it can be loaded into the jeep. Lieutenant Haber will go with you to draw the antidetector units. Sergeant Bennett will get some coffee and sandwiches up here. Dismissed.”

The first troubles came fifteen minutes later.

“Sorry, sir, but we can’t get all the equipment into the hoverjeep,” Haber reported.

“Lieutenant, you’re an idiot. Stuff it in, boy— stuff it in!”

“Yes, sir. What I mean is we can’t get in the equipment and four passengers and get the thing off the ground. There just isn’t enough power.”

“We’ll take two jeeps then, and if we can we’ll squeeze in another man to help carry that gear.”

“That will be me, sir,” Sergeant Bennett said.

“Agreed. Get into night fatigues and bring a can of blackface.”

Sodium vapor lights sliced the darkness of the yard, illuminating the falling rain with their crackling blue glow and casting black shadows under the cigar-box bodies of the hoverjeeps that rumbled and whistled noisily as they floated a yard above the ground, supported on the cushion of air blasted downward by their fans.

“Drop them!” General Burke shouted. Like the others of the raiding party he was dressed in black coveralls and dark boots with a black beret pulled low over his hair. Their faces, hands and visible skin were soot-colored, without highlights, stained by the blackface cream.

“Engine warm, tank full, radio and radar tested, sir,” the driver of the first hoverjeep said, switching off and climbing out. “She’ll lift, hover and do full speed with this load you’re carrying.”

“Let’s move then. I’ll drive the lead jeep, Sam and Yasumura come with me. Haber, take the second and the sergeant will ride shotgun for you. Stay close behind me and be ready to turn southwest as soon as we see the docks on the Brooklyn shore. We’re going to start out of here going due east so keep your eye on the compass; I’ll be using radar but the compass is all you’ll have, that and the sight of my rear end going away from you, so don’t get lost. We’re going to put on a bit of a show in case the police are using radar too. There are five copters going out with us and they’ll fly low and we’ll go at maximum altitude so all the blips will merge. When we get in the radar shadow of the shore installations we’ll drop down and cut out while the copters fly around for a while. Any questions? All right then, here we go.”

The whistling of the fans was drowned out as the flight of copters came over, dropping low. The general signaled and all the lights went out at the same moment; watery darkness filled the yard and the hoverjeeps were invisible as they drifted across the ground and slipped down the ramp to the water. The riding lights of the copters vanished into the falling rain, their unseen companions moving beneath them.

“Shore about two hundred yards ahead,” Sam reported, bent over the hooded screen of the radar.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” the general muttered. “No, I’m wrong, there it is.” He touched the switch on the microphone. “Cut in your silencers, be ready to turn—now!”

With the silencers engaged, their speed dropped by a third and the copters rumbled away into the darkness. As the two hoverjeeps turned toward the ocean their passage was marked only by the dimpled water that they floated above and the muttering, muted whistle of their fans. Silent jets of air drove them forward, down the Upper Bay and under the briefly glimpsed lights of the Narrows Bridge and into the Lower Bay and the higher waves of the Atlantic. Once they were well away from the shore the silencers were cut out and they tore through the darkness with racing-car speed. The rain was stopping and through patches in the haze they caught glimpses of a row of lights off on their left.

“What’s that?” General Burke asked.

“Coney Island, the street and boardwalk lights along the shore,” Sam said, squinting at the radar.

“Blast! Just when we could use some filthy weather it has to clear up — what’s that I’m coming to ahead?”

“Rockaway Inlet, it leads into Jamaica Bay. Stay on this course, we’re in the middle of the channel and we have to go under the bridge that crosses it.”