“Surprisingly good,” replied Rubeo. “I wouldn’t test it.”
The terrain was so rugged to the south that the Marines manning the observation point there couldn’t even see the landslide. Sergeant Norm Ganson, in charge of the landing team security, didn’t trust the eye-in-the-sky assessment and sent two men down to assess the damage.
“Four vehicles, a dozen guys — we can hold them off, no sweat,” the Marine sergeant told Danny.
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Danny replied. He trotted back to Jennifer, whom he found squatting next to the bomb, her left forefinger in her mouth.
“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?”
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.
A bird passed overhead, then another, then a flock. Breanna looked at them and started to rise. She was smiling.
“Bree,” he called. “Bree.”
As she glanced down toward him a look of sorrow appeared on her face, her sadness so painful that it froze him in place. He felt his heart shrivel inside his chest, all of his organs disintegrating, his bones pushing inward suddenly. He wanted to say more but her look stopped him, her sadness so deep that the entire world turned black.
And she was gone.
Englehardt knew he could beat the MiGs if they fired. He saw in his mind exactly what he’d do: jive and jab and zigzag while Sullivan hit the ECMs. He’d drop low, then come up swinging — fire the Anacondas at point-blank range.
The question was: What would he do if they didn’t fire?
“Still coming at us,” said Rager. “Slowing.”
Englehardt checked his position. The
That might be a good idea. He could duck out of the way and let the two enemies go at it.
“MiGs are thirty miles and closing,” said Sullivan.
Englehardt once again thought of radioing for instructions. But there was no point in that — he’d only be told to use his judgment.
That was the Dreamland way, wasn’t it? You were on your own, trained to make the call. A Megafortress flying alone wasn’t “controlled” by an AWACS or even a flight leader — its pilot was on his or her own. If he wasn’t up to the responsibility, he didn’t belong in the cockpit in the first place.
So do it. Just do it.
And yet he balked, inherently cautious.
“Are they talking to anyone?” Englehardt asked.
“If they are, we’re not hearing it,” said the copilot.
Englehardt flipped over to the Dreamland Command channel to speak to Danny Freah.
“Captain, we have a couple of Indian aircraft up here taking an interest in us. Are you ready to get out of there?”
“We need ten more minutes.”
“I’m going to lead these planes away from the area. When you take off, have the Osprey stay low in that mountain valley. The MiGs shouldn’t be able to see them on radar.”
“Good. Copy.”
He had it figured out now: he’d fool the Indians, diverting their attention while the Ospreys got away.
Was that the smart thing to do? Or was he wimping? Maybe he should shoot them down.
“I’m going to try talking to those bastards myself,” said Englehardt. “I’m going to broadcast on all channels and see what the hell they’re up to.”
“Take your shot,” said Sullivan.
Englehardt identified himself and the ship, saying they were on a Search and Rescue mission and asking the Indians’ intentions. Once again they didn’t answer.
“Ten miles,” said Sullivan. “Still closing.”
“Get ready on the Stinger air mines.”
“Yeah,” said Sullivan.
The two MiGs had widened their separation as they approached. They flanked the Megafortress, then slowly began drawing toward her wings, still separated from her by a mile or so.
“American EB-52,” said one of the Indians finally. “Why are you over Indian territory?”
“I’m on a Search and Rescue mission for American fliers,” said Englehardt. “Why didn’t you answer my earlier radio broadcasts?”
The Indians once more chose not to answer. The Megafortress’s radio, however, picked up a succession of squeals and clicks, indicating they were using an encrypted radio system to talk to someone.
“Gotta be talking to their ground controller,” said Sullivan. “What do you think? Did he just tell them to shoot us down or leave us alone?”
By slowing down to match the Megafortress’s speed, the MiGs allowed
“Computer, hold position on aircraft identified as
“Hold position.”
Starship took over the controls for
This is going to work out, he thought. The Osprey was going to sneak away, and then the Megafortress would head over to Pakistan and go home without the Indians knowing exactly what was going on.
Then he noticed a flicker in the lower corner of
He pushed his throttle slide up to full.
“Hawk leader to Whiplash ground team — Danny, there are helicopters trying to sneak in up that valley behind the Indian ground units.”
Starship’s warning came just as the warhead was secured and the Marines had been ordered to return from their lookout posts. Danny needed a second to work out in his head where everyone was. Then he jumped in the back of the V-22, slipped through the nest of lines and straps holding the warhead in place, and ran to the cockpit.
