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“On it.”
Starship tucked the Flighthawk through a nearby canyon, then back up and over the low mountain before falling into the valley the road ran through. One of the passes was so narrow that the computer gave him a proximity warning as he shot through. Starship ignored it, tucking the Flighthawk to the right to stay with the trail.
He took a quick look at Hawk Two. The MiGs were about thirty seconds from overtaking it. So far they hadn’t changed course or acknowledged the Be
“You see that ledge on my side of that tight pass?” Da
“I think I know which one you mean.”
“Any chance you could get some rocks into it?”
“You mean start an avalanche?”
“That’s it.”
“Let me take another look.”
Starship brought the airplane around and swooped toward what looked like a sheer, solid cliff. He wasn’t sure the relatively small missiles the Flighthawk held would do much.
Now that he had the idea planted in his head, however, he started hunting for a place where it might work.
“There’s a spot about two miles south of you where a bunch of boulders are piled against the side of the road,” he RETRIBUTION
277
told Da
“Give it a shot,” Da
“Roger that.”
“INDIAN FIGHTERS ARE PASSING THE FLIGHTHAWK, STILL
coming for us,” said Daly at the radar.
“Let’s move farther north,” said Englehardt. “Let’s see how far we can bring them.”
“Should we target these guys or what?” asked Sullivan.
“They’re just about in range to fire at us.”
Englehardt started to say no, then reconsidered. If he let them fire first, could he avoid their missiles and fire the Anacondas?
He started to reach for the radio to ask for instructions, then stopped. His rules of engagement covered the situation—avoid firing except to protect the mission, and himself.
He didn’t need authorization from anyone, or advice.
If he called Dreamland Control, he’d look weak, wouldn’t he? That’s what he was really worried about.
So what was he going to do? Was there a threat or not?
Colonel Bastian had been right to bump him the other day.
He couldn’t make a decision.
Screw it.
Just make a decision. Either way. Do it.
He took a breath.
“Hold off on the Anacondas,” he said. “If they get hostile, we have a bunch of things we can do.”
“Roger that,” said Sullivan, not sounding particularly convinced.
THE COMPUTER HELPING STARSHIP FLY THE FLIGHTHAWK
beeped at him when he boxed the rocks at the side of the cliff on the weapons screen, asking if he was sure he knew what he was doing.
“Confirm target,” said Starship.
278
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
The computer replied by turning the small aiming reticule red. Starship pressed the trigger button at the top of his stick and began dumping lead into the pile of rocks. They disappeared in a cloud of dust.
A fine mist of dirt still covered the area when he swung back, and even the Flighthawk’s radar couldn’t see whether the road had been blocked or not. Starship continued past, moving down the road toward the Indian column a few miles away. Apparently they’d heard the commotion; the trucks had stopped and the men were crouched around them and in the nearby rocks.
As Starship turned to come back north, the computer warned him that the MiGs were past Hawk Two.
“Be
“We’re going to lead them away from the ground party,”
replied Englehardt.
“Well, yeah, roger that, but they’re inside fifty miles.”
“I know where they are, Flighthawk leader.”
Starship changed course, angling in the direction the Be
He went back to Hawk One, bringing it up the road. The cloud of dust had cleared. The road was blocked—but only partially.
“You seeing this, Da
“Roger that,” said Da
“Good enough?”
“It’ll have to do.”
Jamu
2200
JENNIFER JERKED BACK AS THE LEDS ON THE LARGER OF
the two circuit cards in front of her began to flash.
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279
“Da
Da
“Ray, I have blinking lights here,” she said, trying to make her voice sound calm. “What does this mean?”
“Move the helmet a bit so we can see,” said Rubeo.
He sounded real calm, she thought. But of course, why wouldn’t he?
“Je
“Snip it? You told me five minutes ago we weren’t cutting anything.”
“The thinking has changed.”
“Why?”
“Ms. Gleason, there comes a time when you have to let the pilot fly the plane. Just cut the wire.”
Je
Her hand shook slightly; she steadied the cutters against their target with the forefinger of her other hand and snipped.
Then began promptly cursing, because she had caught her finger as well.
“Je
“The lights are out,” she said, looking at the tiny balls of blood that seemed to percolate up from the red line on her finger where she’d caught it. “The LEDs are out.”
“Very good. One more step and the warhead can be moved.”
“How good an electrical conductor do you think blood is?” she said as the small spheres turned to a large drop and oozed off her finger.
“Surprisingly good,” replied Rubeo. “I wouldn’t test it.”
* * *
280
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
THE TERRAIN WAS SO RUGGED TO THE SOUTH THAT THE
Marines ma
“Four vehicles, a dozen guys—we can hold them off, no sweat,” the Marine sergeant told Da
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Da
“Jen?”
“We can move the warhead now,” she said, rising.
“What happened to your hand? It’s bleeding.”
“It got in the way. Can you spare anybody to attach those straps, or should I do it myself?”
An atoll off the Indian coast
Time and date unknown
IT WAS THEIR WEDDING, BUT NOT THEIR WEDDING. BREANNA danced in her long white dress, sailing across the altar of the church, into the churchyard, the walls and roof of the building vaporized by Zen’s dream. She floated on the air and he followed, alone in a white and brown world, stumbling on the rocks. The band played in a large, empty fountain, arrayed around a cement statue of a forgotten saint, his face chipped away by centuries of neglect. Every time he held his hand out to his wife, she danced farther away, moving through the air as easily as if she were walking. She lay herself down on a bench, holding her arms out to him, but when he arrived, she floated off, just out of reach.