The wizardry cursed by Rick Cook

The wizardry cursed by Rick Cook

Author:Rick Cook [Cook, Rick]
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science fiction, Fantasy, General, Science Fiction - General, Fiction, Fantasy - General, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fiction - Fantasy, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Wizards, Fantastic fiction, Fantasy fiction, American, Computer programs
ISBN: 9780671720490
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2010-01-21T16:02:27+00:00


Twenty-five: MAROONED

Warm! Mick Gilligan thought as he spluttered his way to the surface. The water’s warm.

By rights it ought to be nearly freezing. But it was nearly as tepid as the Caribbean.

Nothing but surprises, he thought as he pulled his seat pack to the surface with the cord attached to his leg. At least this one is pleasant. He unsnapped the cover on the top half and inflated his raft.

Wait a minute! There are sharks in the Caribbean. He redoubled his struggles to get into the raft.

It wasn’t easy. An Air Force survival raft is about the size of a child’s wading pool and it is designed to be stable once the pilot is in it, not to be easy to get into. Gilligan was encumbered by his arctic survival suit, his G-suit and his flight suit. He wanted to hurry for fear of sharks, but he didn’t want to splash too much for fear of attracting them. If there had been anyone to watch, it might have been fairly amusing. But there wasn’t and Gilligan himself wasn’t at all amused.

Once he had flopped into the raft he tried to orient himself. The one thing that hadn’t changed was the fog. It was dense and thick everywhere. The air was a good deal colder than the water, so that wasn’t astonishing, but it didn’t explain why the water was so warm.

He pulled the seat pack into the raft and set it on his lap while he undid the catches on the bottom. Inside was a standard Air Force survival kit, including food, medical supplies and a lot of other necessities. Right now he was most interested in the radio and the emergency transponder.

The radio was about the size of a pack of cigarettes. Eagerly Gilligan extended the antenna and trailed the ground wire over the side into the water. Then he tried the radio. Only a hiss and crackle of static came out of the speaker.

Grimacing, Gilligan carefully clipped the radio to the breast pocket of his flight suit. Next he pulled out the transponder and examined it.

The transponder was bigger than the survival radio, but it did more. When it received a signal indicating an aircraft was in the area it transmitted a powerful homing signal. Just now it was silent as the grave.

Gilligan punched the self-test button on the receiver and watched the LED indicator light up. Then he studied the other indicator for a few minutes and his expression got grimmer and grimmer.

Every military aircraft and almost all airliners and business aircraft carry beacons which would trigger his transponder. Gilligan knew for a fact that an AWACS and several other aircraft should have been within range. If even one plane was above the horizon, the device should have been screaming its little electronic heart out. Yet the self-test said it was working.

Either the self-test was lying or there were no planes above the horizon. Considering what the rest of this business had been like, Gilligan didn’t think the transponder was broken.



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