“On to the barbie,” said Stoner when each of the party had caught about a dozen or so. The warehouse was studded with charcoal barbecues; Stoner showed them how to skewer the creatures, snap off their claws with a knife, and then roast them alive, or at least nearly alive.
They washed dinner down with cans of beer, bought from one of the vendors.
“Lovely,” said Danny, eyeing his roasted dinner.
“It’s really tasty,” said Liu.
“So’s burnt toast.”
Stoner laughed, and got a few more ready for the grill.
Kick had
The AIDC Ching-Kuo came in two “flavors”—a single-seat tactical fighter, and a two-seat combat trainer. Developed with the help of Northrop and other U.S. manufacturers, the Ching-Kuo was a two-engine aircraft that might be favorably compared to a Northrop F-20 or advanced F-5E, able to top Mach 1.7 and with a combat radius of one thousand kilometers.
Major Alou altered the flight to the Megafortress, and Zen told Kick to let them know where he was as well. No sense surprising the allies, whose flight path would take them into visual range as they approached.
Both Taiwanese pilots spoke English very well, though Kick struggled somewhat to make out the words through the accent and vagaries of radio transmission. The two CKKC aircraft were flying southward toward the Megafortress at roughly thirty thousand feet, about five thousand below
Kick plotted out an intercept in his head, mocking up how he would handle the two planes if they were Mainland Chinese. His altitude and tiny size gave him a decent advantage; he saw himself tucking his wing, slashing into a front-quarter attack on the lead plane before he even knew Kick was there, then lashing back around to take out the trailer. A “normal” aircraft would find the maneuver difficult at best, but the small Flighthawk would have no trouble spinning back around for the second attack.
“Quite a plane!” exclaimed the CKKC leader, a Captain Hu, as they drew within visual distance.
“Thank you,” answered Kick.
The CKKC pilot began peppering him with questions about the aircraft’s performance. It soon became clear that he didn’t realize it was a robot.
“What should I tell him?” he asked Zen.
“Tell him you’re a UFO, recently enlisted in the U.S. Air Force,” joked Zen.
“Um—”
“I’m just pulling your leg,” said Zen. He clicked into the circuit and spoke to the CKKC pilot, giving some generic data that they were cleared to share. The existence of the U/MFs was no longer a secret, since they had seen action over the past year and even been written up in the aviation and general media.
“Wants to race you,” laughed Zen.
“Race?”
“He’d probably win. The AIDC Ching-Kuo is a good aircraft, very capable. No match for a Flighthawk, of course, but we won’t tell him that.” Zen’s tone changed. “All right, we’re about ten minutes from the coast. Best check with Major Alou about the landing details. I’m going to see if I can get ahold of Captain Freah and see how he’s doing.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kick, wincing as the word ‘sir’ left his mouth.
Zen double-checked the plotted course as they headed toward the airfield. In general, he was pleased with Kick’s flying. The lieutenant was still a few notches behind Starship, but he did have potential, and undoubtedly his skill would grow as he became more comfortable with the aircraft.
“Zen, got a second?” asked Alou over the interphone.
“Always for you, Merce,” he laughed.
“Danny’s got a little job lined up for tonight, couple of hours from once it’s dark. Wondering if we can provide a little overhead reconnaissance.”
“That’s why we’re here,” said Zen.
“Okay. We’ll go ahead and land and get refueled, find some grub. Think they do takeout here?”
Danny could swim pretty well, but the mile from their small motorboat to the pier was nonetheless a trial. The water stunk of oil and sewage. It felt like acid, boring its way past his wetsuit, through his skin, trying to disintegrate his bones. The wind whipped at the water and Danny lost his sense of direction; he knew he was moving forward, but it seemed as if his target kept moving away. By the time he finally drew within fifty yards of the pier, his shoulders were burning with the effort.
Odd sounds rushed into his ears, the whine of machinery and boats and other mechanical sounds jumbling with the lap of water against the docks. When he got near the end of the dock, he heard a sharp whistle and turned to find Stoner treading water a few feet away.
“How are you doing?” Stoner asked.
“I’m okay.”
“There’s a spot to get up on the shore over there, on the other side of the pier. A little dock they use for boats.”
“I thought we were going up here,” said Danny. “That was the plan.”
“There’s a light at the end of that wharf there. I saw it coming in. I’m afraid we’d cast shadows.”
Danny grunted, and followed as Stoner slid under the pier. He brushed his leg unexpectedly against the side of one of the pilings, and even though he knew it was just part of the dock, he instantly thought of sharks.
Stoner had already climbed out of the water by the time Danny reached the incline, which was lined with rotting pieces of wood. He hoisted himself up and crawled on the planks, pushing up from the harbor.
“Don’t get a splinter.”
“No shit.” Danny caught his breath a moment, then pulled up the waterproof sack he’d towed with him. He exchanged his flippers for a pair of sneakers, then took the viewer from its cooled bag. Stoner, meanwhile, was scouting on shore, viewing the facility from a pile of old ropes and tires.
Danny settled in next to him and trained the viewer on the general area, getting a lay-of-the-land picture for the specialists. Stoner pulled out a sat phone to talk to Dreamland, confirming that the device was working.
“Target buildings are that way,” he said when Danny finished. “We go along that fence line right to the building. See the railroad track? We can walk right up it.”
“Don’t think the midnight express is running tonight?”
“Hope not,” said Stoner.
Danny pulled out his sat phone and hooked in the headset so he could talk to Zen.
“Whip One to Hawk Eyes,” said Danny. “Zen, how are we looking?”
“Twenty-twenty,” replied the pilot. “Just making another pass now. We have you and the spook down near the wharf. Six guards, up near the road. Uh, looks like there’s a couple in target building one, still just the one in building two.”
“Thanks for the assist. We’re going to get closer and use the viewer.”
“Have fun. Hey, Liu told me you went shrimp fishing,” added Zen.
“An experience, believe me.”
“Beats McDonald’s.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Danny and Stoner climbed over an eight-foot fence to get to the railroad tracks, then walked along them to the razor wire fence separating the two buildings they wanted to inspect from the rest of the yard. Rather than climbing the fence as they had planned, Stoner led the way to a large yard on the other side of the tracks
