"In a few hours when the pilot skill is done implanting, I'll fly Redemption down to Paradise Plains and bring it back here."
"That would not be advisable, Jake. The Redemption will not be able to evade radar and would likely be intercepted by the US military. Without its full suite of propulsion, it would not be able to outrun pursuit, and without weapons or active defenses it would be very vulnerable."
"I was thinking I'd just fly really low to avoid radar. Nap of the Earth, they call it."
"That would not—" Brick started to school me again, but Metra interrupted.
"Don't be stupid, Jake. She's too big and if their sensor tech is better than you think it is—and I can't imagine how it could be so terrible that they would miss her—then she'll be discovered and shot down."
"I can't risk taking the truck back across the border," I protested.
"Ferals, Jake. I built you flying armor. Use it. It's small enough that it might not be detected, and if it is, you can just swat their machines out of the air."
I didn't like the thought of "swatting" down fighter jets, but she was right that it would be a lot easier to evade detection and defend myself in the armor. Plus, it would be fun as hell. That by itself was a good enough reason for me.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Flying Back to Paradise Plains
IT DIDN'T TAKE LONG to gear up. A quick jaunt through the gate to step into my armor and grab my weapons. A Gazer, the GN-75, and Excalibur all went into their proper spots.
I had thought about taking some explosives or my drones, but that seemed like even more overkill than the weapons. There was no military tech on Earth that could hold up against even the GN-75, much less the Gazer. Excalibur didn't really have a role on this mission, but I felt a bit naked when it wasn't stuck on me or close to hand, so it was definitely coming along. I would have taken one of my duffel bags, but I didn't plan to take the metals, and the exotics and radioactives would easily fit into the Assault Armor's pockets.
I stepped up out of the outpost and into the deserted cabin above and then outside into the snowy woods. Snow crunched under my heavy steps and I looked up at the darkening sky. The sun set early that far north, which was good for me. People were less likely to notice a suit of flying power armor if it wasn't sparkling in the sunshine.
"I'll be back in a flash with some goodies," I said.
With a thought I arced upward and raced through the air southward, skimming the snow-laden tops of the trees below me. I knew from the speed indicator that I'd left a sonic boom behind but never heard the sound. There weren't many people that far north to hear it, and if they did they'd think it was one of the Canadian fighter jocks having some fun.
"Brick, can you plot a route for me? Keep me away from where people can see me."
"Of course, Jake," Brick replied. Immediately as he said that, the first marker appeared in my Interface-augmented vision. A simple blue dot with a distance in kilometers and the time until I reached it—two minutes and change.
Frozen rivers and lakes flashed by underneath me, most far too quickly to see. Only the truly massive stretches of frozen water or open plain were visible for more than a few seconds. In the distance I occasionally could see headlights or taillights, but they were specks of white or red light in the growing darkness and I was comfortable there was no way the drivers could see me.
The elation I'd felt while flying on the surface of Hephaseta 2 was still there, but more pronounced. I didn't have to worry about Regar dying, or monstrous flying Ferals eating me and I could simply enjoy the act of flying.
My only remaining worry fell away when I miscalculated slightly and hit the top of an extra-tall pine tree at full speed. There was an explosion of snow, pine needles, and chunks of shattered wood that sprayed away from me, but otherwise my flight was unaffected. If I hadn't been paying attention I might not have even noticed the impact.
The blue waypoint markers came one after another, and before I was ready for the experience to end, I recognized the roads and lights of Paradise Plains just ahead.
Brick's route was well done, keeping me from flying over the city itself. I came in from the edge of town, moving slower than before and weaving through trees as much as I could rather than flying above it all. Minutes later I set down gently in the deep snow in front of my grandpa's old house.
My Civic was still where I'd left it. The snow I'd cleared had all been replaced, and then some. It was more an oddly shaped hill of snow than a car. There were recent footprints in the snow. Deep, sweeping impressions of people wading through knee-high snow to get to and from my front door. For a moment I felt sorry for the postman.
The visibility from the road to my front door wasn't great, but I didn't want to be outside for long. It would be best to get inside, get the stuff, and be gone as quickly as possible. I hustled to the door.
I was annoyed when I saw the police tape, and even more annoyed when I saw that it was broken and my front door was slightly ajar. The jamb was splintered, the door clearly having been forced open.
"Damnit, Farnell," I muttered to myself.
After Marty and I had left, he'd clearly come back here with a warrant and searched more thoroughly. The fact that the tape was broken told me that after he'd left, someone else had come in as
