Armageddon

1352

“I didn’t get a good location,” Brea

“They may be under fire,” he told her. “I see something popping down there. Something’s going on”

She flipped on the feed from the nose of the Flighthawk and watched as the small robot made a tree-top pass over the road. There was a flash off the right wing, but the robot plane went by so quickly it was impossible to tell exactly what had fired at it.

“I’d try raking the trees with the gun,” said Zen. “But I just can’t tell where they are”

“I have a better idea,” said Brea

“Bree, they may decide we’re a good target—” said Zen, but she’d already started the aircraft downward. The Megafortress cleared the treetops by maybe five feet.

“Trying to break their eardrums?” Zen asked as she climbed.

“If it’ll help,” she said.

Southwestern Brunei, near the Malaysian border

1352

McKe

The MiG’s air speed plummeted from 325 knots to just over 200 as she dropped toward the hard-packed surface at the edge of the runway. Her flaps were open all the way and she was committed now. The craft sank abruptly, threatening to pancake. She got past it, the tail twitching slightly but her nose right, flaring up so the plane could help itself slow. But she reached prematurely for the throttle to throw it into neutral—a minor mistake in another plane, a potential catastrophe in the MiG-19 on a short runway. Cutting the speed so sharply caused the back end of the plane to slip downward abruptly once more, this time perilously close to the ground. She felt her heart thump, and then in the next instant felt something kick her from behind—her father, she thought, telling her not to be a jerk.

That was all it took. She managed to get the rear wheels down solid without scraping her butt on the runway. With her nose still up to increase drag, her speed quickly fell; when she slipped under 130 knots she dropped the front of the plane and went for the brakes and chute and brakes.

And brakes and brakes and brakes. She stopped with her nose over the end of the field.

“Never a doubt,” she said as she climbed out of the plane.

“My MiG!” exclaimed Prince bin Awg, materializing from the back of the crowd that ran out to greet her.

“She’s a beauty,” said McKe

“How did you rescue her?”

“She kind of called to me,” said McKe

The prince looked at her, then smiled. “For your bravery, you deserve a present.”

“I’ m not much for medals, Prince,” she told him. “Besides, it was mostly the Dreamland people. The terrorists made a move to the Megafortress and they decided they had to keep her on the ground. They took her rear stabilizer off and wiped out the fuel truck they’d brought in from outside the city somewhere”

“The Megafortress was destroyed?” asked the prince.

“Temporarily disabled. They blew the back section of it off. It’ll fly again someday”

“And my planes?”

“I saved this one,” said McKe

The prince nodded grimly, as if lamenting the passing of a dozen old comrades—which in a way he was. “You deserve a reward,” he said. “It is yours.”

“What is?”

“The MiG.”

“Really?” McKe

The prince looked at her solemnly. “My uncle owes you his life. I would give you twenty such planes”

“I’ll settle for this one and a new set of brakes,” said McKe

Brunei International Airport

1352

Sahurah watched as the men pulled the last of the metal from the wrecked hangar entrance. Two of the hangars at the prince’s side of the airport had been completely destroyed, but only the doorway to this one had been blown up. A large aircraft sat untouched a few yards away.

“It may be of use,” said Yayasan, the pilot who had deserted from the sultan’s air force. “It hasn’t been used often, but it was flown recently. The Russians called it a Tu-16. The Western nations referred to it as a Badger. This model was used for maritime patrols, and some bombing.”

“Could we use it against the sultan’s forces?” asked Sahurah.

“Certainly. There are machine-guns, those racks are there for bombs or missiles. Missiles, but we could use bombs.”

“Can you fly it?”

“I have never done so.”

“That is not my question.”

Sahurah looked into the pilot’s face, filled with fear. Sahurah knew from his own experience how difficult a foe fear was. He wished he had the ability to inspire others to face it, but realized he did not. Sahurah turned and started to walk away.

“I will try, Commander,” said the pilot behind him. “I will try.

North of Meruta

1402

Dog tried the radio again, but once more all he got was static. The terrorists had stopped firing their weapons but they were still in the jungle somewhere across the road.

“I think they’ll follow us all the way to the coast,” Dog told Lang as they crouched in the weeds, catching their breath. “They’re persistent bastards.”

“No, they won’t go that far,” said the sergeant. He pointed to the south. “There’s another group coming up on our side. Look.”

Dog saw the last man in the small column as he ducked over a hilltop in the brush about a quarter of a mile away.

“Shit,” said Dog. He picked up his radio to broadcast again. “Wait,” said the sergeant. “Listen.”

Dog raised his head and heard the chopper approaching from the distance.

SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE QUICK BIRD AS IT whipped toward the area where Colonel Bastian had been located, Da

“I see you, Zen,” Da

“On and off. I haven’t had anything from him in the last ten minutes, but I have a rough idea of the location. The terrorists are very close by.”

He gave him GPS coordinates, and then described the spot as just west of the highway, about a hundred yards from a sharp bend.

Da