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intend to let Phillips know he was out here by using the main comm channel. "Gator, Iceberg. Do you
read?" He waited a moment. Nothing. He tried again. "Gator, Iceberg do you read me? This is urgent."
Still nothing. Crap. He'd hoped at least someone in the crew would be listening to the science channels
used by payload specialists to run their onboard experiments. Typically, NASA didn't trust the science
geeks on Earth to communicate directly with the astronauts, but the old ways were changing. So if no one
was listening now, that meant either the crew didn't know what was going on outside the shuttle, or the
payload specialists had switched off those frequencies.
He punched in the main comm frequency. "Gator, Iceberg Payload Button two." He immediately
switched to a prearranged frequency the crew would know from the checklist, but nothing happened. He
tried again. "Come on, dammit!"
Seconds later a cautious voice came over the radio. "Iceberg?"
Iceberg felt his heart yammer. Yes! He leaned forward in his chair, forgetting the ordeal he had
undergone the last half hour. "Gator, I don't have much time."
"Iceberg, what the hell are you doing on this channel? CAPCOM will have a fit! Where are you?"
"Gator, shut up. I've got something important to tell you."
22
ATLANTIS
ATOR SWITCHED OFF THE
G onboard radio in cold astonishment. Iceberg's voice had been
broadcast over the shuttle's main intercom system to the entire crew, breathlessly asserting that Atlantis
was being held hostage. It chilled him to realise that the news explained a lot of the strange happenings.
The shuttle's cockpit windows stared up and ahead, straight up into the blue Florida sky-effectively
blinding them to anything happening on the ground away from the launchpad.
He looked over as Dr. Marc Franklin snorted. "What's the matter, Marc?" Gator asked. "You don't
believe him?"
Franklin looked disgusted. "Lieutenant Commander Green, your friend has gone one step too far in his
practical jokes. Don't you think we'd have been able to verify this before his call? How many other
channels of information do we have coming into the shuttle?"
"And how many times has CAPCOM refused to answer our questions about this indefinite hold?" he
said defensively. "If the LCC has been taken over, like Iceberg said "
"It's a piss-poor joke. That cowboy may be amused by his stupid fighter-pilot pranks, but a stunt like this
could cost us the mission and his career." Franklin picked up the checklist, as if it might have an answer
for him. "Since he can't fly himself, he wants to ground us, too."
Alexandra Koslovsky's voice came from behind and below in her mission specialist's chair. "This team
knows Colonel Iceberg well enough, Dr. Franklin. He understands difference between joking and
seriousness."
Franklin twisted in his seat and frowned down at the pretty cosmonaut as if he couldn't believe what
she had said.
"Standard procedure, Marc," Gator spoke up. "We've got to check this out. Iceberg has more respect
for this shuttle and for us than any other person in NASA. Just check it out."
"Great," muttered Franklin, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's going to happen next mutiny?
We abandon ship because he says 'boo'?"
Gator reached up to change the frequency on the main cockpit comm, drawing a deep breath to keep
from making a retort that he would regret. If it had been Iceberg sitting in the left-hand seat, Gator would
have given a snappy, smartass answer. But Franklin showed all the signs of someone who was in over his
head, taking everything personally and listening to no advice.
Gator said, "It won't hurt to ask a few careful questions, just in case. Isn't it strange that CAPCOM
hasn't given us any reason for the hold? They always give a reason, even if it's only to cover their own
butts."
"Maybe they're too busy trying to get us out of this hold."
Gator gritted his teeth. "That's not the way it's supposed to be done. It's not in the checklist, and it sure
as hell was never in the simulator. This isn't a green card with a new problem, Marc."
Franklin looked annoyed. "We'll see about this." He reached up and changed the main radio to
CAPCOM. He clicked his microphone even as Gator tried to caution him. Franklin brushed him aside.
"CAPCOM, Atlantis. Do you copy?"
When Nicole Hunter's voice came back, she sounded strained. "Atlantis, we need you to sit tight.
We're working on a time-critical problem. We're, uh, having difficulty with the comm and need these
channels for the engineers to inspect the system. We'll get back to you as soon as we
can.
"Hey!" sputtered Gator. "What the hell is Panther doing speaking for Houston CAPCOM? She can't do
that!"
Franklin raised his eyebrows at Gator and clicked on the mike. "Copy that, Launch Control. Please be
informed that we have received some . . . uh, spurious transmissions on this frequency. Can you verify any
unusual problems at LCC? Unauthorized access, for instance "
Gator flicked off the microphone and grabbed Franklin's elbow. "Careful. You know something's wrong
if Launch Control is speaking directly to us CAPCOM would never allow that to happen! What if
Iceberg's right?"
Franklin shook off Gator's hand. "Excuse me, Launch Control has there been an unscheduled change
in CAPCOM procedures?"
Nicole Hunter's voice came back slowly over the speaker. "Atlantis, we need this channel open. I
repeat, we're holding at T minus twenty and your instructions are not to interfere. Copy that?"
"Sorry to bother you, Launch Control. We've had a communication from Iceberg that "
Gator grabbed the mike away from him. "Roger that, Launch. We'll keep quiet. Atlantis out." He
switched off the radio, then turned to Franklin. He could barely control his anger. "What are you thinking,
Commander? Houston controls all communications to the crew, not the LCC. They've been cut off
somehow."
"She's the Launch Director, and we're supposed to stay put," Franklin said, stubbornly oblivious. "How
much clearer could she have been?"
"She didn't even answer your questions! None of them. If everything was all right, Houston would be
going ape-shit right now. Something is wrong."
Franklin thought for a second, trying to concoct an excuse that even he could believe. "You heard her:
There's a communications breakdown. And maybe she didn't understand what I was trying to say."
It was Gator's turn to snort. "Give me a break, Commander. Panther not only understood it, but she
confirmed what Iceberg told us."
"You're crazy."
"And you're stupider than hell. Sir." His frustration and anger finally drove away his usual good humor.
"I just spoke with Panther about Iceberg not more than two hours ago. She knows how he acts she
almost married the guy, and he was commander of this crew until last week. We know him, too. And you're
just being dense." Then he dropped his voice, somewhat cowed by his own words. "No disrespect, sir, but
this is an emergency situation."
Franklin looked around the cockpit, as if trying to come to grips with the situation. His face hardened,
but his overt anger faded. "You really think this ridiculous story is true?"
Gator felt his heart pound harder than he had imagined it would during the actual launch. "I believe
Iceberg. That's the important part. The scary thing is what are we going to do about it?"
23
LAUNCH CONTROL CENTER
ICOLE SWITCHED OFF THE
N radio link to Atlantis, working to keep her expression calm and
emotionless, though a hurricane raged inside her. Showing fear, showing panic, showing any sort of
indecision would only provoke these terrorists, and she didn't want to give Mr. Phillips an excuse or make
anything easier for him.
Iceberg! Here? She struggled to keep her surprise from showing.
She had known the shuttle crew would immediately suspect something out of the ordinary when she
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