Sky raider, p.16
Sky Raider, page 16
“What kind is it, Millie?” J.B. asked, swinging the Uzi machine pistol around behind his back. Pulling out his Navy longeyes, the man scanned the sky.
“‘Kind?’” she repeated, frowning, pocketing the spent brass. “Hell, I don’t know, John. Those things disappeared long before my time.”
“Great.”
“Now, there was a cartoon strip with one and they called it a Sopwith Camel,” Mildred added hesitantly. “But I honestly don’t know if that was a joke or its real name. And I recall something about farms using them to dust crops.”
“Dust the crops?” Jak asked.
“To kill the bugs eating the plants,” she explained. “Dust meant kill in those days.” Then again, Mildred realized, that was what the crop dusters had been doing. Dust always seemed to mean kill, even in the old Western movies. How odd.
“Anything else?” Ryan asked, working the bolt on his Steyr SSG-70 rifle.
Mildred shrugged. “I’m sorry, when I flew in planes, they were jetliners, bigger than ten war wags, and crossed the whole continent in a few hours.” She pointed skyward. “That little thing would have rattled around loose in the cargo hold on a 747 jumbo jet.”
A groan sounded from Karl, lying on the broken ground.
“He alive?” Jak asked, sounding incredulous.
“Mildred, go see what you can do,” Ryan directed, slinging the longblaster.
While the rest of the companions continued arming, Mildred grabbed her med kit from the black Hummer and rushed over to the fallen man.
“Fireblast!” Ryan snapped, pulling out the SiG-Sauer and checking the clip. Two rounds remaining inside. Rummaging in a pocket, he found some loose shells and started pressing them into the clip.
The burning Hummer exploded once more, spraying out hot shrapnel.
“Ain’t no jolt dream,” Jak said darkly, holstering his Colt Python.
“Indeed, not,” Doc agreed, using his teeth to work the pull string on a bag of powder before tucking it away.
Kneeling by the groaning Karl, Mildred saw that the man was cradling his left arm. Gently, she pried away his fingers and inspected the wound.
“Oh, this is nothing serious,” she said with a smile, using her best bedside manner. “See? The lead went clear through. No arteries are hit, and the bone is intact. You were lucky.”
Karl grunted.
“This could have been a lot worse,” Mildred continued, opening her bag to pull out some bandages and a bottle of shine. “Now, this will hurt.”
“Life is pain,” Karl muttered in a flat voice, his face going strangely immobile.
As Mildred washed and cleaned the wound, she studied his blank expression. Yes, she had unfortunately seen that look before on slaves who were constantly whipped by their taskmasters. The poor bastards had learned to disconnect their minds and think about something else while they were being brutalized. It was the hard face of animal survival.
“Why did the one-eyed man…”
“Ryan,” she supplied, wrapping the wound with a clean bandage.
“Yes, Ryan. Why did he ask you about the Angel?” Karl asked hesitantly. “Are you a healer, or a whitecoat?”
“A little of each.” Mildred smiled, draping the sling over his neck.
“You know old tech?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“I know some,” Mildred replied, helping the man stand. His legs were wobbly, and she could see that his brief rest in the Hummer had been nowhere near enough. Karl needed food, and sleep, in that order. And pretty damn quick.
Rubbing his wounded arm, Karl stared at the woman. “You’re an Old One?” he asked, a tremor of fear marking his voice.
“No, I just learned some stuff,” Mildred lied as she helped him walk back to the Hummer.
Ryan walked once around the black Hummer, pleased to see that it was merely badly dented in spots, but otherwise not seriously damaged. A window was cracked and the right-side rear door refused to open, but that was about it. Good. If they shifted some of the supplies out of the rear section, the one wag would be able to carry everybody.
“How’s the bike?” Ryan shouted, turning.
Krysty stood from behind the Beamer. “Not a scratch,” she told him, dusting off her hands. “Although the fuel tank is now completely drained.” She pointed to a muddy puddle on the ground that shimmered with rainbow colors.
“Dark night, I never did get a chance to fix that before,” J.B. said, heading for the motorcycle. “Jak, grab a can of fuel!”
“Aces,” the teen replied in agreement, going to the rear of the Hummer and pulling out a sloshing canister.
Warily, Ryan walked closer to the burning wag and shook his head. All of that fuel and trade goods gone. They could probably scav something when the flames died out, but that would take hours. He glanced at the sky. It would be night soon, and Ryan wanted to be moving long before it got dark just in case there were any more of those odd howlers around.
Tightening the cap on the fuel tank, Jak gave a thumbs-up.
“Okay, let’s give it a try,” J.B. said, sitting on the Beamer. He twisted the ignition switch and the engine came alive with a gentle purr.
“Thanks for the fix, but somebody else can use that thing,” Krysty said, crossing her arms. “I’ll ride in the wag this time.”
“Why, dear lady?” Doc asked, leaning on his ebony stick.
“The bike engine runs hot, and I don’t want to risk touching that hot exhaust with my damp clothing.”
“No prob. Mine now,” Jak declared with a grin, running a pale hand along the sleek two-wheeler.
“Fine by me.” Krysty smiled, then her red hair fanned out in every direction and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Inhaling sharply, the woman felt her every nerve tingle for a moment, and then the sensation of danger was gone, vanished like a dream at dawn.
“Something?” Jak asked frowning.
“Mebbe,” she said softly, resting a hand on her blaster. “You know about my powers, they come and go.”
A soft buzz came to them on the desert breeze, only to disappear then return in a moment louder and stronger.
“By the Three Kennedys!” Doc cursed, starting to draw his sword, and then slamming it back again. “That accursed biplane has returned!”
“Everybody into the Hummer!” Ryan shouted, shrugging the Steyr into his hands. He worked the bolt and scanned the sky. “We can’t fight her on open ground!”
Grabbing his hat, J.B. pelted for the black Hummer, with Krysty close behind. Tying his long hair into a ponytail and stuffing it under the collar of his leather jacket, Jak climbed onto the Beamer and started the motor.
“Move it or lose it, son,” Mildred said, sliding a shoulder under the armpit of the wounded man to hurry him along.
“But I am her loyal sec man,” Karl finished lamely. “Lady Tregart would not harm me!”
“I know what you are,” Mildred said in a whisper. “And your lady has already tried to ace you once.”
Going pale, Karl had no answer to that, and meekly followed her lead into the rear of the Hummer. As he slumped into a seat, Mildred handed him the weapon he’d dropped.
“You’re with us, or with her,” she ordered brusquely. “Now make your choice!”
Breathing hard, the man stared at the blaster and ammo in his hands, clearly unable to decide what to do.
Moving fast, Doc started throwing out boxes of supplies from the rear of the Hummer to make additional room, then climbed in through the opening and closed the hatch. Sliding behind the steering wheel, Ryan was gunning the engine alive, Krysty was in the passenger seat, her S&W Model 640 in one hand and the M-16 assault rifle in the other. The rapid-fire was down to its last few rounds, with no replacement ammo, but the longblaster had a much greater range than her short-barreled handblaster.
“The Veri pistol!” J.B. shouted suddenly from the rear seat. “If the flares still work, those can easily ace the bitch!”
“Great! Where is it?” Ryan demanded over a shoulder.
As the buzzing got steadily louder, J.B. frantically looked at bags in the rear of the Hummer, boxes scattered on the ground and the burning wreckage of the other wag.
“Damned if I know!” The Armorer cursed in frustration.
“Fireblast!”
Casting a worried look at the sky, Jak revved the bike and impatiently waited for the others to get moving. What was taking so damn long?
“Ryan, what are we waiting for?” Doc demanded from the cargo compartment. “Speed is our armor!”
“Not yet,” the one-eyed man muttered, working the clutch and gearshift. Then a shadow moved across the windshield.
Without another word, Ryan slammed the gas pedal to the floor and took off in a spray of dust. A sharp whistle built and a few seconds later something impacted the ground where they had just been parked to violently explode. The shock wave slapped the Hummer hard, almost forcing Ryan into the embankment. It took all of his strength to regain control and get back into the middle of the riverbed.
“Molotov my ass, that was TNT!” J.B. stormed, watching the brownish cloud of dust thin out to reveal a gaping crater in the soil yards across. “If one of those babies hit us, we’re vapped!”
Leaning out the window, Krysty fired a single round from the M-16 at the sky. The little plane circled, the soft buzz coming and going on the warm breeze.
Yanking the steering wheel back and forth, Ryan sent the Hummer zigzagging down the riverbed. After a few moments he hit the gas and raced straight for a while, before braking hard and swinging randomly left and right again. Speed was their only armor; Doc sure had that one right.
Suddenly, Jak zipped past the Hummer on the motorcycle, then swung past in front of the wag and dropped behind it.
“Can we outrun her?” Doc demanded, worrying the silver handle of his stick. The LeMat was a deadly weapon, but its range was pitifully insufficient against an enemy who flew. There was nothing he could do to help in the current crisis.
Mildred frowned. “No way in hell,” she stated flatly.
Lowering the side window, J.B. sent a short burst skyward. The hot brass arched from the flickering ejector port and hit the ceiling of the Hummer to ricochet to the floor with almost musical ringing sounds.
“Any smoke grens?” Krysty asked, triggering the M-16 until the bolt snapped back, showing it was empty. Dropping it to the floor, she raised her revolver in both hands and tried again.
“In the other wag,” J.B. said, squinting and firing another burst.
Responding to the adrenaline of battle, Karl started to load his borrowed blaster, but then lowered the weapon. Even to save his own life he couldn’t do it. The man couldn’t shoot at his lady. Mebbe she didn’t know he was among the outlanders. Or maybe she was trying to save him from torture. But his life was hers, and he couldn’t fight back.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as Karl dropped the revolver and slumped in the seat, uncaring of how the battle ended.
Slapping in a fresh clip, J.B. stared at the sec man as if he were insane, but Mildred understood the conflict of emotions he had to be suffering. Eunuchs often fixated on their masters, and Karl had been beaten down for so long he couldn’t strike back any more than a whipped dog. Tregart had truly taken away his manhood, and Mildred felt a true hatred for the lady baron.
A whistle sounded once more, and Ryan raced for the embankment. Jak got out of the way and leaped ahead. Just before ramming the soil, he veered straight across the riverbed for the opposite side. The whistle grew loud and terminated in a thundering blast just ahead of the Hummer, a rain of debris and shrapnel falling to pepper the wag.
Savagely turning the wheel, Ryan skirted the blast crater, barely missing slipping inside by inches. Damn, the bitch was good with those bombs! Unfortunately, until they reached open ground, the Hummer and bike were trapped like bullets in the barrel of a blaster, with nowhere to go but straight ahead. Easy meat for this Tregart and her skybombs.
“Krysty!” Doc shouted urgently, extending an arm and snapping his fingers for attention. “The Steyr! Ryan’s longblaster! Give it to Mildred so that she may clip the wings of this diabolic Icarus!”
Looking sideways, Krysty blinked, but Mildred got the idea.
“After Ryan, I’m the best shot,” the physician said, hefting her Czech ZKR wheelgun. “But these short-barrels are useless against a plane. Only that rifle has the range to hit the Angel!”
“Take it!” Ryan shouted, driving with both hands.
Reaching out, Krysty undid the strap and pulled the Steyr free. As she passed it to Mildred, a sharp whistle came from directly behind the racing Hummer, and a fireball blossomed in their wake, the halo of debris striking the rear of the armored wag sounding like winter hail.
“Just stones and dirt,” J.B. said grimly. “But if that plas had been packed with nails…” He decided not to finish the thought.
Wrapping the strap around her forearm to help steady her aim, Mildred clicked off the safety and worked the bolt on the SSG-70 sniper rifle. Looking through the telescopic sight, she altered the focus and tried to ignore her sweating palms.
“Mebbe she’s out,” Krysty said, biting a lip. “How many bombs does she carry on board that thing?”
There was no answer from the man in the back seat.
“Karl!” she demanded loudly. “How many bombs?”
“A dozen,” he whispered, as if the information had been torn out of his living guts. “Sometimes more.”
Krysty frowned at that. Then Tregart had plenty left. Damn!
“I’m ready,” Mildred said in artificial calm, tying off her riot of beaded plaits with a handkerchief.
“Just a few more ticks,” Ryan breathed through grit teeth, sending the Hummer all over the riverbed.
The black wag and Jak wove a tapestry of misdirection along the ground, constantly changing their speeds and directions.
The Angel passed by overhead, but didn’t drop anything this time, clearly unable to zero in on a target. Slowly, Ryan was starting to get a feel for this new enemy. The biplane seemed to have a lot of good points—he had never seen anything move so fast—but it wasn’t very maneuverable. It could only attack in straight lines and gentle curves. That gave the wag and bike a telling advantage. But was it enough?
Reaching a smooth stretch of dirt, Ryan eased up on the gas and held a steady course. The riverbed looked rough up ahead, so this might be their last chance.
“Do it,” Ryan ordered tensely.
From above the buzzing began to get louder, and then suddenly swelled in volume as J.B. slammed open the Hummer’s roof panel. Spreading her legs wide for a better stance, Mildred stood and raised the longblaster to try to find the tiny speck moving in the orange sky. The roiling clouds behind the biplane made it difficult for her to get a clear sighting, then the handkerchief came loose and her beaded hair whipped madly around her face.
Suddenly there were multiple flashes of fire from the shadowy plane, and Mildred knew the pilot was firing that big blaster again. Good.
Shifting her aim to slightly behind the sputtering bright flowers, Mildred held her breath and quickly squeezed off all five shots, working the bolt as fast as she could.
There seemed to be no reaction. No puff of smoke, no explosion of flame. As she started to calmly reload the weapon, the Angel abruptly swung aside and headed out into the desert. Chambering a round, Mildred waited expectantly, but the Sky wag kept going this time until it dwindled into a speck from the sheer distance.
Dropping back into her seat, the physician exhaled and released the longblaster as J.B. closed the roof.
“Well, she’s gone,” Mildred said, freeing her arm from the canvas strap. “But she can come back at any time.”
“Do any damage?” Krysty asked.
“I don’t think so,” Mildred replied honestly. “Maybe I scared her off.”
“Highly unlikely, madam,” Doc said in a somber tone. “Old pilots and bold pilots, remember?”
“You think she was just being cautious?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Ryan added as the Hummer started shaking over the rough terrain. If the wag had hit this only a few minutes ago, they would all have bought the farm today. Timing, everything was timing.
“Gotta find someplace with cover,” Ryan said, slowing their speed to ease the bouncing. “Any forests around here?”
Mildred nudged the man next to her with an elbow.
“Forests?” Karl said in a slur, as if drunk. Then he pointed to the north. “Yeah, sure. There’s some heavy green that way. A half day’s ride on horseback.”
Ryan mentally translated that into about eighty miles. Say, less than two hours in the wag.
“North it is,” he decided. Slowing the Hummer to a crawl, he started working the wag up the sloped side of the embankment.
Coming to a halt, Jak pulled out his blaster and nervously waited for the Hummer to reach the crest and send down the towline. This peaceful-looking riverbed was really not someplace that he wanted to be left alone in for any length of time.
CLAMPING A HAND on her bleeding leg, Sandra tried to hold the joystick steady. She couldn’t believe they had hit her with a longblaster! It was incredible! There she had been diving in for the chill, when something burst through the fuselage and her leg suddenly felt as if it had been smashed with a white-hot club.
Pulling off her scarf, the woman tied a tourniquet around the wound, the pressure making it hurt even worse. Black dust, those outlanders were going to pay for this! Along with that traitorous little bastard, Karl. She had trusted the eunuch with her life, and he turned on her at the first opportunity! The stinking yellowguts better start running now, because if she ever got her hands on him not even the dogs would eat his carcass once she was done.
Studying the world below, Sandra tried to locate one of the landmarks on her chalk map, but nothing seemed familiar. Suddenly, her skin began to itch and she glanced upward to see the roiling chem clouds dangerously close. Nuking hell!
As thunder boomed, shaking the Angel with its strident peal, Sandra eased the biplane into a level flight, and began to carefully descend. The winds were tricky this high up, she had to stay alert for downdrafts that could flip the Angel over or simply tear it apart like a child plucking the wings off a fly.
