Or just very long hair.

Jennifer Gleason. She waved frantically and ran toward the plane. Another person jumped from the SUV—Dr. Geraldo.

“What should I do, Colonel?” asked McAden.

“Let’s find out what they want,” said Bastian.

McAden dropped the ramp. Gleason appeared on the flight deck a few seconds later.

“Colonel, let me aboard,” she said.

“We’re just flying backup,” he told her.

“I can override C3,” she said. “I can send feedback through the command link. It’ll break the connection with ANTARES and disable the Flighthawks.”

“That’ll work?”

“It’s either that or you’ll shoot them down, isn’t it?”

“Colonel!” yelled Geraldo from below.

“And what exactly is your plan?” he asked the psychologist as she came up.

“I want to try talking to him,” said Geraldo.

“It’s not going to work.”

“Better than shooting him down.”

“We almost certainly will have to,” said Dog.

Neither Gleason nor Geraldo said anything else.

“This won’t be a joy ride,” he said finally.

“I fly in Megafortresses every day,” said Jennifer.

“Shut the hatch,” Bastian told McAden. “Jen, show Dr. Geraldo how to strap herself in downstairs.”

Aboard Galatica

Approaching U.S.

8 March, 0805 local (0705 Dreamland)

THE FINGERS OF THE AWACS GROPED THE AIR, reaching for him, desperately trying to grab him. Two F-16’s cruised not five miles to his left, at less than five thousand feet, determined to ferret him out.

The bastards would all miss. He was within sixty minutes of San Francisco, sixty minutes of having revenge.

And then?

Then they could kill him. He wouldn’t even bother to run.

“Losing connection,” warned C3.

“Closer,” he screeched on the interphone.

“But—” Breanna began.

“Closer!”

The Megafortress lurched upward and to the left. C3’s warning flashed off.

“AWACS tracking,” warned the computer.

“Impossible,” Madrone muttered. The threat screen on the Flighthawk showed he was clear.

Breanna had tricked him—the F-16’s had seen the Mega-fortress.

“F-16’s being vectored for mother ship,” said the computer. “Attempting to activate ident.”

Madrone started to slip out of Theta. His view of the U/MF screen went blank.

Kevin took a deep breath, felt himself relaxing. The feeds returned. But he couldn’t feel Galatica across the gateway. He was too drained, and his brain worked in slow motion—he had too much to hold in his mind.

“We’re being targeted by a pair of interceptors,” he told Minerva.

“What?”

“This!” He flashed the computer’s threat screen into the cockpit HUDs.

He’d have to take over Galatica as well as the Flighthawks. He’d have to find the strength somehow.

ZEN SAW THE F-16S ON THE FLIGHTHAWK SCREEN AS they turned to target the Megafortress just under forty miles away. But the slippery black plane danced at the edge of their radar coverage; they would have to ride much closer to lock on. Most likely their rules of engagement demanded visual identification before firing anyway.

Or maybe not. The launcher indicators on the Flighthawk went red. Sparrow radar missiles were in the air.

BREANNA PUSHED DOWN ON THE STICK, AIMING TO USE the confusion to her advantage. But the plane moved in the opposite direction—Kevin had somehow taken control.

The rest was automatic. Tinsel shot from Gal’s backside as its ECM computer zeroed in on the AIM-7Ms and knocked them senseless with a blast of Gangsta Rap fuzz. At the same time, Galatica accelerated toward the F-16’s to keep its connection with the Flighthawks. The Air National Guard F-16 Vipers launched another salvo of missiles at approximately twenty miles; these two were easily confused.

Thirty seconds later, Hawk One began a front-quarter attack on the lead Viper. The fireball trailed across the left windscreen; as it flared out, a second appeared on the left.

“Why are you doing this, Kevin?” Breanna said.

“I’m destroying Livermore,” he said. “They poisoned my daughter there with their radiation. They claimed they were treating her, but it was a lie.”

“You’ll destroy all San Francisco.”

“So be it.”

HE WANTED SAN FRANCISCO TO BE DESTROYED. HE saw it, saw Karen there, shriveling in the flash as the nuke went off. That would serve her right for giving up on him.

Maybe she’d been in on it.

He saw his wife crying at the graveyard, sobbing as she knelt on the fresh-packed dirt. Then he saw Christina, helpless on the gurney, head shaved, the tape for the lead shields still dangling on her skin.

She screamed like he’d never heard her. The two nurses came to wheel her away. He jumped for her, but some bastard grabbed him and held him back.

Kevin fell from the sky, tumbling backward into the jungle. He landed flat on his spine, staring up at the sun overhead. The red orb pulsated, then began to descend. He tried to get up, but couldn’t.

IT TOOK JEFF A MOMENT TO REALIZE THAT NOT ONLY had the Flighthawks defaulted to Trail One, their favored preset mode, but that ANTARES was no longer hooked into C3. When he finally saw it, he grabbed for the controller with his right hand and threw his left on the two rockers that connected his microphone with the computer.

“Command authorization Zed Zed Zed,” he said, telling the computer to recognize him. “Zero Stockard Zero.”

“Zed Zed Zed.”

“Erase ANTARES plug-ins.”

“Command unrecognized.”

“Computer: Delete the connection with ANTARES!”

“Command unrecognized.”

“Manual control, Hawk One,” he said, pulling back on the controller. The cockpit cam showed the rear of the Megafortress in the moonlight, flying above an array of jagged peaks.

Down, he thought, pushing the stick forward so hard it nearly snapped out of its socket.

HE NEEDED TO BE IN THETA NOW.

Christina’s face floated in the dim blue void before him. Her mouth moved.

Daddy, she said. Daddy.

I’m here.

It’s the computer. It took me away.

ANTARES?

Yes.

But how?

It sucked me out from inside you.

Christina?

It stole me. The computer stole me. It took me from your memory and destroyed you. That was their plan all along—to kill me by killing you.

Her eyes and mouth faded, leaving only the outline of her face. Lightning flashed behind him and he fell back in the tower. The last bits of his daughter disintegrated in front of him.

She was right. It wasn’t Livermore he had to destroy. It was ANTARES.

BREANNA PULLED BACK ON THE STICK AS THE PLANE began plummeting toward the mountain peaks. She had the yoke pressed against its stop, but the plane didn’t respond, its dive continuing.

Then, with a violent shudder, its nose began to jerk upward, and in the space of a few seconds it became a streaking roller coaster, whipping upward as the aerodynamic forces overpowered it.

Minerva was screaming next to her.

“Don’t let the plane go through ten thousand feet. No!”

Breanna grabbed the stick back, not sure if Kevin had let go or not. They whipped up to 8,500 feet, going through 8,600 and accelerating.

“Help me,” yelled Minerva. “We can’t go above ten thousand feet.”

“I have to override the flight computer,” lied Breanna, who now had control.

“Do it!”

“Computer: override course settings, override command settings. Lock out autopilot section. Authorization Rap One-One-Two.”

“Confirmed.”

“Navigation screen.” Breanna tapped the panel up and quickly hit the beacon code. In the meantime, she leveled off at 9,200 feet.

“What’s so special about ten thousand feet?” she asked after checking the plane’s systems.