Sword of Shiva - Страница 55

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She glanced up and down the rows of white markers. “I see there are a bunch of old-time Indian fighters buried here. Scouts, cavalry soldiers, maybe even some of the boys from the Alamo. You should look them up. I’ll bet some of those guys are relatives of yours. The hero streak in you runs pretty deep, so it’s probably in your bloodline.”

Silva reached into her pocket and fished out a folded sheet of paper. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t bring flowers. You never struck me as the kind of guy who goes for floral arrangements. But if I’m wrong about that, you let me know, and I’ll get you some begonias, or something.”

She unfolded the sheet of paper and spent a few seconds smoothing out the creases. “I did bring you something, though. Maybe you’ll like it better than a bunch of daffodils. I’ll just read it for you, and you can decide for yourself.”

She cleared her throat softly. “From: Department of Defense Public Affairs, Washington, DC Naval News Service. Secretary of the Navy Alexander Fields announced today that the Navy’s next Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyer will be named USS Bowie, in honor of Navy Captain Samuel Harland Bowie who was killed during last year’s naval combat action in the Bay of Bengal. The USS Bowie will be the first ship to bear the name…”

Silva folded the paper. “There are four or five more paragraphs, but the rest is mostly about the capabilities of the modified Arleigh Burke class, and you probably know more about that than just about anyone. There’s also a section about your military career, and the heroic actions of the Towers on her last three deployments, but — again — none of that is news to you.”

The folded slip of paper went back into her pocket. “The keel laying ceremony is in May at Bath Iron Works. The Navy is inviting everyone who ever served under your command, so it’ll be a much bigger dog and pony show than usual. Under the circumstances, I doubt they’ll send you a direct invitation. I thought I’d tell you myself, in case you decide to swing by and watch the fun.”

Silva’s voice took on a more serious tone. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Jim. I don’t know if you’re in heaven, or floating in some ethereal afterlife, or even if there is an afterlife. Maybe you’re just gone now, and I’m talking to myself. But whether you can hear me or not, there’s something I have to say to you.

“The world will probably never understand how much it owes to you, and to the men and women who fought under your command. The average person on the street has no idea that you dragged America — and maybe the entire planet — back from the brink of catastrophe at least three times. Most people will never know how much you did for this country, and how much you sacrificed to give us all a second chance.”

She was surprised to find that her eyes were beginning to get misty. “But some of us know. We remember what you did, and we know the price you paid. And we’re grateful, Jim. I can’t even begin to tell you how much.”

Silva tried to continue, but her voice had gone husky with unexpected emotion. “I guess that’s really all I came to say.”

She came to attention, and her right hand performed a slow, deliberate salute. “Thank you.”

Her hand came back down to her side. She executed a precise about-face and walked away, leaving the headstone to stand among the ranks of its brothers and sisters under the gray Texas sky.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Anyone with an understanding of orbital mechanics (or a working knowledge of physics) will spot the fact that I’ve taken some literary license with the orbit of the Chinese surveillance satellite known as Redbird One. The flight path I’ve described for the satellite is at too low an altitude, and too far from the famous “Clarke belt” to support a geostationary orbit. I haven’t attempted to calculate what the duration of such an orbit might be in the real world, but it’s a safe bet that it would not remain stable for the ten days predicted in the story.

I could attempt to justify my departure from Keplerian motion by pointing out that Redbird One could be an experimental statite (static satellite), a hypothetical satellite which employs a solar sail to modify its orbit. Theoretically, a properly-configured statite could hold itself in a geostationary “orbit” at much lower altitudes and with inclinations far different from the traditional equatorial orbits used for geostationary positioning. I could make such a claim, but I won’t. The simple fact is, the story called for a satellite at a lower altitude, and well out of the geostationary belt, and I followed the needs of the plot.

Purists and aficionados of space technology are advised that my criminal misuse of orbital mechanics was premeditated, and carried out with malice-aforethought. In other words, it wasn’t an oversight. I done it on purpose.

— Jeff Edwards

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