of mist wrapped around the wagon train went up a
couple of hundred feet. Above that was a heavy overcast; the cloud
base was down to four hundred feet. Kazan had climbed to three and a
half thousand feet before breaking out into clear sky. Climbing
higher, she discovered that the area of mist and low cloud extended
over a ten-mile radius around the wagon train.
Beyond that, the sky was clear and the weather conditions matched those
of the previous days.
Hartmann exchanged a loaded look with his chief exec and ordered Kazan
to launch a forward patrol. She told the F.O.O. that she would go up
with Booker and Yates. Like her, both wingmen had considerable
experience of bad-weather operations.
As two more Skyhawks were lifted onto the flight-deck, Steve and the
other new wingmen listened while Jodi Kazan briefed Booker and Yates.
When she'd finished, Steve jumped in with a question that had been
bothering him. 'I heard one of the guys say that you don't allow
wet-feet to fly if the cloud-base is below four hundred feet. That
still gives us plenty of air space - so how come?"
'It's because of the danger from Mute ground-fire, said Jodi. 'The
field reports from the forward way-stations in South Colorado indicate
that at least one in ten of the Plainfolk Mutes may be armed with a
crossbow. In some clans it may be as high as one in four. That's a
lot of sharp iron. One of these days, we're going to find out where
they' re getting them from. They're too dumb to make 'em on their
own.
But until we get a lead on that, we stay high - especially you
silver-wings."
'You mean unless the terrain allows us to fly low with an element of
surprise,' said Steve.
Jodi eyed him narrowly. 'What I mean, Brickman, is that you follow
orders. If I catch you pulling any stunts, I'll have your ass in a
sling. And it'll be me that'll put it there. I don't need Big D to
keep you guys in line. These Mute crossbows may have a lousy rate of
fire but in the hand of a skilled marksman, they're deadly. Don't ask
me how they do it but the best of 'em can shoot a barbed ten-inch bolt
with pinpoint accuracy up to a range of a thousand feet."
'Is that why we were told not to fly below fifteen hundred?" asked
Steve.
'Yeah,' replied Jodi. 'But don't think you can sit back and enjoy the
scenery. One of those bolts is still travelling fast enough to kill
you at two thousand feet - if it hits you in the right place."
'Thanks,' said Steve. -'Shouldn't you have told us this before we set
out?"
Jodi grinned as she stepped past him. 'I didn't want to spoil your
trip."
Kazan's Skyhawk was catapulted into the clammy grey blanket of mist.
Booker followed seconds later from the starboard catapult, then Yates's
aircraft was rolled forward and locked onto the port ramp as steam
hissed through pipes and vents, building up the pressure that would
launch him into the air at forty miles an hour.
Watching the screens in the command car, Hartmann saw Yates's Skyhawk
lift off and fade into the mist as he passed overhead. The NavComTech
manning the radio established contact with Kazan. Hartmann gave the
command 'Wagons ROLL!'; The Lady moved off in a north-westerly
direction past the now vanished site of Laramie, towards Rock River and
Medicine Bow. Like Laramie, they were just names on the map; nothing
more than reference points for finding one."s bearings.
After travelling fifteen miles, The Lady was still enveloped in dense
mist. Kazan, Booker and Yates, circling at five thousand feet around
the line of advance reported that the pancake-shaped blanket of low
cloud and mist had moved with the wagon train. The NavComTech
acknowledged Kazan's message, routed it through the voice-print
convener and keyed it through to Hartmann's signal screen.
The wagon master read the signal and hit the relay button which put it
on the station screens of the executive officers positioned round the
saddle. Buck McDonnell was the first to swing round and meet his
eye.
The others were quick to follow.
Hartmann surveyed their tense faces. He knew what they were