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All set.
He reached out for the gun controls and put them on “Full Barrage,”
“Flame,” and “Ready.” They were aimed at that box of blasting caps.
Was the drone tilting or was he just dizzy? He couldn't tell with his dazed senses. He looked at the climb indicator of the plane. Yes! The drone was tilting, the door behind him lower now. Something had upset the coordinates. The magnetic fields of the limpet mines? But whatever it was trying correct, it was pointing its door down!
That meant if he shot backward and fired he would be shooting himself toward the sea or the mountains.
He better not delay.
He kicked off the magnetic grips. The plane started to slide backward to the door.
Hastily he hit his starter buttons. The plane was sliding backward faster.
He slammed his fist into the gun-firing button.
The battle plane fired full blast.
But the result was far more than just gun recoil.
Before his eyes the whole interior of the drone flashed a violent orange and green.
The battle plane was catapulted backward into space like a projectile!
The shock of sudden motion almost tore his head apart.
He could still see, still register. The drone looked like an old rocket missile must have looked. It was soaring upward as though the door was the jet!
Jo
He punched in coordinates to arrest his backward descent.
With a jolt the plane slowed its rocketing, downward plunge.
But something else was happening. There was no response from the right balance motor.
In a slow roll, the plane began to rotate in the sky. The roll became faster.
The left balance motor could not hold it by itself.
Jo
The plane was now cartwheeling through the storm!
Chapter 7
Badly shaken and feeling very ill, Jo
It was extremely hard to think. If he shut off the left balance motor, maybe the stricken ship would stop rolling. He managed it. Then he realized the guns must still be firing. He got a wad of blanket out of his vision and reached up to push the firing button off. And as he did he saw it.
The drone!
Almost straight at him it was tumbling out of the sky. Spent flames were licking out of the doorway and a vast plume of smoke was trailing behind it.
It was going to hit him if he didn't move.
His hands hit the console. He felt the plane move.
The drone went by so close the plane tumbled again in the air rush.
Abruptly a geyser of water smashed upward into the storm, a column two hundred feet high.
The battle plane spun about under the new impact.
Water? Water!
Jo
Water! He would hit it. He knew that pressure outside the doors would keep him from opening them. This battle plane would never float.
He brought a fist down on the window openers, both of them.
He looked at the console. What could he press to arrest his own descent?
The battle plane crashed into the sea.
The jolt threw him back into unconsciousness. But in a moment a wave of the coldest water he had ever felt rushed in on him, revived him. Bitterly cold water, colder than ice to the touch. And it was hitting him in a roaring torrent from both sides.
He fought with the huge, ten-pound Psychlo belt release. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He unwound the belt from himself.
The water was getting darker. The battle plane must be sinking very rapidly. Or he was passing out once more?
The incoming rush eased. At least the plane was no longer spi
A sudden surge of energy. He got to his knees on the seat and thrust a floating blanket out of his way. The futility of it struck him. There was nobody to save him. He couldn't live in water this cold.
More by reflex than by intention he went out the window and began to rise to the surface. His air mask tanks were lifting him. Water was getting in the air mask, washing dried blood off the inside glass. The sea became lighter and lighter green.
Then a spatter of rain hit his head. Rain! It was welcome.
The sea about him, as he floated face-up, was a panorama of tossing, overwhelming waves, pockmarked with the rain. A wild scene.
The cold was getting to the very center of his being.
He knew he was going into a delusion again. As the waves covered and uncovered his ears he thought he heard a voice. They said dying men often heard angel voices calling them. He knew he was very close to death.
More delusion. Hopeful thinking giving rise to false sights. It was what he would have dearly loved to see, not what was. But the water-blurred vision stayed there.
Something hit him in the face mask. A line?
He became more alert. It looked like Du
Jo
“Come on now, laddie,” Du
Part XV
Chapter 1
Fleeting impressions, half-seen through a wall composed of darkness and pain. Dim consciousness of being in a ship and landing. Of someone spooning broth at him. Of being carried in a stretcher with rain on the blankets. Of a stone-walled room. Of different faces. Of whispered conversations. Of another stretcher. Of another plane. And a pain in his arm. He sank back into darkness. He thought he was in the drone again. He opened his eyes. He saw Du
“He's coming around,” said someone softly. “We'll be able to operate soon.”
He opened his eyes and saw boots and kilts. A lot of boots and kilts standing beside what he was lying on.
A plane's motors? He was in a plane.
He turned his head a little and it hurt. But there was Du
Jo
Du
“What's this?” whispered Jo
“Blood transfusion,” said Du
The doctor was signaling Du
In the underground hospital where they had operated for centuries, in a land where skull injuries were common, the doctor had seen too many die in less injured condition than this one. He was looking down at the big, handsome lad with something like pity.