Conclave of Ravinia before the dados returned. We stood a much better chance against that immense army from behind the protective walls of the conclave. That was the immediate goal. We needed to get into the conclave. Quickly.
“Here they come,” Mark announced.
Rising up from the factory beyond the gates of the conclave were helicopters. I counted a dozen. Just as we expected.
“Get us on the ground,” I ordered Kasha.
She quickly dropped the gig to the edge of the river that separated Manhattan from the Bronx. We landed on the conclave side. It wouldn’t be good to be in the air, because we knew what was coming. The rebels who had blasted the flume were long gone. They knew what was coming too.
Mark ordered a simple, sharp command into his walkie. “Take ‘em down.”
We all looked to the Manhattan side of the river. There, lined up along the far bank, stretching out for several hundred yards, were dozens of yellow taxicabs. Crouched down in front of each cab were two gars.
With radio cannons.
The green tubes were on their shoulders, pointed to the sky. The trap was set.
The Ravinian copters rose in attack formation. It was an imposing sight. Even from where we were, I could see their rocket launchers beneath. I had no doubt that they were fully loaded. They hovered together until the formation tightened up, then moved forward as one, headed toward Manhattan and the oncoming army of exiles and gars.
Toward our radio cannons.
“Tell me those things really work,” Mark said softly. “Watch” was my answer.
Courtney leaned in to me. One way or another, this was going to get ugly.
The wave of choppers cleared the fortress wall and passed over the destroyed flume. I heard their engines revving harder. They were ready to do some damage. They were about to cross the river when the trap was sprung.
There was no sound. No explosion. No rocket trails. The only way we knew that the radio cannons had begun firing was that the helicopters started to gyrate. It was as if they were hit by an invisible force. The gars hit dead- on-target. The choppers kept moving forward, but they had lost control. Each spun in a different direction. Two went down immediately. They slammed into the ground, their rockets exploding on impact.
“Wow,” Mark gasped. That said it all.
Two more helicopters collided. The explosion ate up another that flew into them from behind. I don’t think the dado pilots had any idea what was happening. One moment they were in tight formation, moving forward. The next it was chaos. And destruction.
Three more choppers bought it, slamming into the ground. The area in front of the conclave had become a mass of twisted steel and fire. I was happy to see that at least two of them had crashed into the flume grave. If it wasn’t sealed before, it definitely was after that.
The few helicopters that had escaped the initial barrage fought back. They must have been far enough behind to see the strange lineup of taxicabs on the other side of the river and realized where the attack was coming from. They fired their rockets. Instantly two taxicabs were hit. I couldn’t watch. The Ravinians had drawn blood. We had gotten this far without a single casualty. I knew that wouldn’t last, and it didn’t. I don’t know how many gars and rebel drivers died in the helicopter attack, but I do know that none of them left their positions. Every last one of those sharpshooters continued to fire at the helicopters until the end.
“Such brave souls,” Kasha whispered.
They were heroes. I had no doubt that their spirits would find themselves on Solara.
More taxicabs were targeted. Rockets slammed the ground around them, but the gars didn’t flinch. They moved their radio cannons in concert with the movements of the choppers, keeping them in their sights. The last wave of Ravinian copters had reached the river. It had all happened so fast that none of them thought to peel off and avoid the barrage. It wasn’t something they anticipated, and they weren’t prepared to react. For that, they all went down. The final wave of choppers twisted out of control. Their rockets fired aimlessly. Harmlessly. The last four helicopters splashed down in the river to either side of the rickety bridge. It had only taken a few minutes, but every last Ravinian helicopter had been shot out of the sky.
The remaining gars on the far bank stood and cheered. Mark gave me a smile, then barked into his walkie. “Stay tight, there might be more.”
The celebration on the ground ended quickly. We could see that the gars, with the help of the rebels and exiles, were repositioning themselves in case another wave of helicopters arrived.
My mind was already on to the next phase of the plan. Much of what we were about to do had already been planned by the rebels. They had spent years living in the shadows, doing what they could to give the Ravinians trouble. They hijacked the helicopters. They stole weapons and defense shields. They confounded the Ravinians- who were constantly trying to smoke them out and eliminate them-by sinking safely back into the city like ghosts. What the rebels lacked was manpower. They didn’t have the numbers to be anything more than a nuisance to Ravinia. They always had big plans, but were never able to carry them out. Until now.
Mark changed the frequency on his walkie and called out, “Float ‘em in.”
The reply came back, “On the way.”
I looked beyond the sea of burning helicopter wrecks to the Conclave of Ravinia. The wall looked more imposing than ever. The giant steel doors were shut tight. A line of people appeared along the top. Defenders. Though the sight of them paled in comparison to the image of the massive army of dados, or the attack helicopters, I knew that the defenders now lining the wall of the conclave would cause us the most trouble. That is, if the next phase of the plan was successful.
I said to Mark, “Please, tell me we caught the express.”
Mark changed the walkie frequency again and called, “Give me good news.”
The reply came back, “Say the word.”
Mark looked to me and winked. “All aboard.”
I took one more look at the conclave wall. In spite of the carnage that surrounded us, there was a strange calm. At least I thought so, because I knew what was going to happen. The battle was about to escalate far beyond the downing of a few helicopters.
“Do it,” I said.
Mark immediately hit the send button. “Bring it,” he ordered.
The reply: “We’re on the move. You might want to stand back.”
The ground in front of us began to shake. The sound of machinery could be heard above the crackle of the fires that were consuming the helicopters. Just as I had seen it happen before, a crack appeared that led from the river’s edge right up to the large, red rectangular door of the conclave. The ground parted, revealing the single train track beneath. At the same time, the water of the river boiled, followed by the large, long tube of a tunnel that rose up from beneath and connected with the rail.
Mark shook his head in awe. “We’ve been planning this forever. Never thought we’d actually do it.”
I said, “Nothing like a good old-fashioned train hijack, pardner.”
A whistle shrieked from inside the tunnel. Once, twice. It issued a harsh warning. Get out of the way. Looking up at the track that led to the conclave, I saw that it ran beneath one of the burning helicopters. Mark saw it too.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “So long as there’s no unexploded rockets in that wreck.”
It was too late to worry about it. A second later the golden train engine blasted out of the tunnel. It charged out at full speed, far faster than the train Patrick and I had hitched a ride on. They must have started back far enough to get up a full head of steam. That was wise. They were going to need it.
As soon as the train cleared the tunnel, three men jumped off. Actually, two jumped. One was pushed. Two were Mark’s guys, the third was the engineer. The plan was to hijack the train at Penn Station and force the engineer to drive it here. There was no reason to leave him on board for this unscheduled, one-way trip, so they pushed him off. They all rolled away from the accelerating train, hopefully unhurt.
There was only an engine. No other cars. They were cut loose because they would have slowed the engine down. I felt Courtney tense next to me, as the engine bore down on the burning wreck of the helicopter. The golden engine slammed into the fiery mass, knocking the hulk away as easily as if it were batting away a fly. The chopper
