Learning To Fly

by DeMaris, Charles

  “They were pretty shot up, but we still had functioning weapons,” Fiona said.

  “Okay, I’ll be back in a bit, hopefully with a guest. You get the tools ready.”

  34

  The A-10s attacking the aliens in Ohio had a moderate degree of success, if you can count managing to get a few rounds on target before getting shot down success. They figured out rather quickly that missiles simply bounced off the shields, while the bullets appeared to wear down the shields to the point that one of the gunships took damage. The problem was the accurate fire from the gunships. They simply had no defense for it, and it only took a hit or two to disable the jet. Another group was closing in, warily after seeing their friends shot down, but still confident after hearing that the previous group had managed to damage one of the ships.

  The lead pilot was about to line up his run when he saw Walter flying next to his plane trying to get his attention. He looked out of the left side of his canopy and Walter was holding up a handwritten sign that said, “Follow me. I have an idea.”

  “Walter wants us to follow him,” he said over the radio to his squadron.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? Our orders are to attack these things,” another pilot replied.

  “I know what our orders are, but you’ve seen how that’s been going so far. I say we see what he’s up to.”

  “You figure we ought to tell the colonel?”

  “Ah hell, tell him when we’re done, or have Walter call him.”

  “Man, we’re in big trouble.”

  “And we’re already in trouble if we keep doing what we’ve been doing. We’re losing planes too fast. I’m following him. The rest of you can come if you want.”

  Thirty minutes later, Walter was approaching the farm house with six Warthogs following him. When he got close, he held up another sign for the lead pilot that said, “No runway. I’ll land you.”

  One by one, he flew under each jet as the pilot throttled down and brought each of them into the hangar under the house. The pilots shut down the engines and climbed out of the cockpits. One pilot approached Walter with his hand outstretched.

  “A.J. Dalton, at your service. So, what do you have in mind?”

  Walter shook Dalton’s hand.

  “We have an idea. We noticed how many of you kept getting shot down. We might have a way to even the odds.”

  “You have something here that could help?”

  “I think so. You guys can talk with Patrick here while I go and make a phone call.”

  Larry Wilkins was watching a video feed showing the alien troops when his phone buzzed.

  “Hey Walter, whatcha know?”

  “Hi Larry, wishI knew more than I do.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Don’t you have that friend up at Wright-Pratt, the colonel?”

  “Stan? Yeah, but I imagine he’s pretty busy at the moment.”

  “Busy watching his planes get shot down one after the other.”

  “I’m watching that too. Word has it that you got zapped by one too.”

  “Yeah, knocked me for a loop. Their weapons knock me out. It’s happened twice.”

  “Why are you calling me then? I don’t think I can help you much?”

  “Maybe not, but I think we can be of assistance. That’s where your friend comes in.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “I might have borrowed some of his planes.”

  “And you expect me to smooth things over.”

  “Not exactly. We have an idea for...let’s say an improvement. Something that would give them a fighting chance.”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

  “Let’s just say that we have access to a hangar full of alien spacecraft. Some of them were fighters, and we tried using those, but we got most of them shot down. There are still several larger craft sitting idle, but they’re transport ships that don’t have weapons. What they do have are energy shields that could be effective against those gunships, and it appears that there is a way to install them on other craft. We’d like to equip some A-10s and see if the extra defense gives them a chance.”

  “I could give you the colonel’s number and you can run that by him.”

  “He’s your friend. I hardly know the guy.”

  “Okay, hold on a sec. I’ll try to get him on the line.”

  “Gordon here,” Stan Gordon said a moment later, “This had better be good.”

  “Hey Stan, Larry Wilkins here. I got Walter on the other line as well.”

  “You better have a good reason for calling me. I’m kind of in the middle of a crisis at the moment.”

  “Walter might have a way to help out with that.”

  “You got thirty seconds.”

  “Hi Colonel,” Walter said, “I might be able to equip some of your fighters with shields that would help them against the alien gunships.”

  “And just where did you get ahold of those?” Gordon asked.

  “We have a friend, well, had a friend. Anyway, she was also an alien, but an enemy of the ones attacking us, and she had quite a stockpile that she gave us access to before she died. There were some fighters, but we lost most of those. We still have some larger ships that aren’t much use in combat, but we think we have a way to transfer their shields to some of our fighters. Six of your A-10s have followed me and they’re awaiting the upgrade. I didn’t want to proceed without your permission.”

  “That’s a lot to ask. I have superiors that I have to report to, and our losses have already been high. Do you think there’s a chance these improvements could make a difference?”

  “I talked with your pilots. They told me they managed to inflict some minimal damage on one of the gunships, but they don’t have any defense against them. We think this could give them a chance to stay in the fight long enough to possibly take out the gunships.”

  “Oh, what the hell. It goes against my better judgment, but we’re up against the wall here. Go ahead, and keep me in the loop.”

  “Thank you sir. I’ll proceed immediately. Give me a minute and I’ll give you the names of the pilots.”

  Walter walked back into the hangar and gave Morrison a big thumbs up and a grin.

  “Good thing,” Morrison said, “I’ve already got the shield module off one of the transports. I don’t think it will be that hard to attach it to the Warthog, but the cockpit interface might be tricky. There are specs on that computer, but it deals with their craft. There’s nothing about installing it on one of ours.”

  “I’ll be upstairs with the others. Let me know when you have something figured out, and if you need my assistance.”

  “Come to think of it, the thing is somewhat heavy. A couple guys can lift it, but maybe you could hold it in place so I can attach it. They’re installed under the fuselage on their ships, so I think that would work on the jets too.”

  “As long as it’s out of the way of the gun barrels,” one of the pilots said.

  Walter picked up the module off the cart it was sitting on and walked over to one of the A-10s, holding it against the underside of the fuselage.

  “Does this location look good?” he asked.

  Morrison and the pilot both nodded in approval.

  “That looks good. Just hold it there and let me attach this mounting bracket.”

  “That was fast,” Walter said, five minutes later when Morrison finished attaching the module.

  “Yeah, it’s their tech. Works like some quick sealing liquid solder, but way stronger than anything we have on this planet. Just let me get the cockpit interface.”

  Installing the interface took longer than it took to attach the shield module, mainly because he had to consult with one of the pilots to place it so it wouldn’t interfere with the existing cockpit controls. Thirty minutes later, he had it installed in an area all the pilots agreed on and they were ready to test it. The pilot climbed in the cockpit and activated the touch screen on the interface.

  “
Guys, get a load of this,” he said to the other pilots, “This is supposed to be crazy alien tech, but there’s an option here to switch the language from theirs to English.”

  He touched the screen where it indicated the power for the module, and there was a barely perceptible hum and he could almost sense more than see the energy field that enveloped the plane. He looked at the interface and it told him that the shield was active and was at 100% strength. A few seconds later, an image of the plane appeared on one side of the screen. He touched different parts of the image and the shield strength would increase for that part of the plane while decreasing in another area.

  “Whoa, check this out. You can divert more shield power to certain areas, depending on where the threat is coming from, I guess,” he said.

  “All that’s left is to test it,” Morrison said.

  “How do you figure we do that?”

  “We still got functioning weapons on one of the fighters we brought back. I say we shoot it a couple times and see what happens.”

  “What if we damage the fighter?”

  “Then we figure that out before we take them into combat.”

  “Good point.”

  “I don’t think we even need to go outside to test it. The alien ships have energy weapons. I’ll just start that one up over there and take a couple shots at the fighter. You all might want to stay out of the way.”

  “I’ll stay in the cockpit so I can watch this screen and see what happens,” the pilot said.

  “Are you sure about that?” Morrison asked.

  “Yes. You’re not going to unload until the shields drop, are you?”

  “No. I’ll tell you what. I’ll fire until you give me the signal to stop, okay?”

  “Sure, that will work.”

  Morrison got in the alien fighter and powered up the systems and when everyone was out of the way and the pilot was in the A-10, he lined up and fired. He fired for a full minute before the pilot signaled him to stop. He exited the fighter and met the pilot, just climbing out of the A-10.

  “Well, how’d it go?” Morrison asked.

  “I could feel a slight jolt when you hit me, but the shields only lost ten percent. But now it’s already back up to 91%. I think it regenerates if you stop taking hits. That’s good to know. We can bug out if they drop too far and let them regenerate.”

  “They seem stronger than the ones we had on the fighters,” Morrison said, “probably because they came off larger ships. Let’s get the other jets equipped and then we can go from there.”

  35

  Stan Gordon answered his phone on the first ring.

  “Gordon here.”

  “Colonel, it’s Walter. Got the names of your pilots.”

  “I’ve had a change of mind. How soon until their planes are ready with whatever you’re doing to them?”

  “Maybe an hour or so, why?”

  “I’d like to speak to them directly. Where are you?”

  “It’s a bit of a drive from the base. I can come get you. Just tell me where you are on the base and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Five minutes later, Walter and a wind blown Colonel Gordon entered the hangar. The pilots came to attention and saluted when they saw him walk in.

  “At ease, gentlemen,” he said, “I just wanted to have a word before you embark. I don’t know what to think of these developments, but I saw a lot of good men go down today. We all lost friends to whoever these people are and frankly I’m sick of it. I don’t doubt your courage, and I don’t doubt that you will do your jobs to the utmost of your abilities, and I pity anyone who stands in your way. I just want you to know that I’m behind you completely and if there is any flak over what you have done to the planes, I’ll take it. If you need to top off fuel and ammo, please stop at the base and you will be given priority.”

  “If it will save time and fuel, I can bring them to the base for that,” Walter said, “You saw how fast I got you here.”

  “Okay, that would probably work, but why ferry six planes there when we can just bring the fuel and ammo here. That’s a couple trucks instead of six planes. I saw what you did with that airliner, so I know you’re strong enough.”

  “Yeah, sometimes I forget what I can do. We could go now while the kid’s still outfitting the planes. How much longer on that?”

  “Thirty minutes,” Morrison said, “All the modules are installed, but I just need to get the interfaces in the cockpits and make sure they’re all functional.”

  “Okay, Colonel, let’s go fetch the fuel and ammo,” and to Mixon, “you want to give us a hand with one of the trucks?”

  “Sure. What else do I have to do right now?”

  Ten minutes later, Walter, Mixon, and Colonel Gordon arrived back from the base with a fuel truck and a van full of 30mm ammunition for the Warthogs’ Gatling guns.

  “As soon as Morrison’s finished, we can fuel up and get going,” Walter said, “I assume you’d like to monitor things. You can do that from here if you like.”

  “I’d like to be back at the base, but if you have a way to keep up on things here, I guess I could do that.”

  “We have a computer that can keep up on everything, and we can do the comms from here as well. You can talk to the pilots in real time just like you could from there.”

  “Okay then, just show me where.”

  “Right here,” Walter said a moment later, showing Gordon the computer, “We have a young lady who has been sitting here, but she’s out at the moment.”

  “She picked a fine time to take off.”

  “One of ours is in the hospital. She’s staying with him.”

  “Okay, just give me some time to get familiar with this setup.”

  “It’s pretty simple, really. That headset will patch you into the comms and the monitors are patched into a live feed from each of the areas around the world.”

  An hour later, the planes were outfitted and the fuel and ammo were topped off, and it was time to go. The planes were all outside the hangar with engines running and the Colonel was on the computer and monitoring the comms. Due to lack of a runway, Walter had devised a way to launch the fighters. He lifted one into the sky, flew up a thousand feet, and got the plane up to speed, and then went down to get the next one. Before long, all six planes were in formation and heading toward the conflict area, with Walter and Mixon flying nearby.

  “Okay boys, there are fifty of them and six of us. I like those odds,” the lead pilot was saying, “Let’s not dogfight them. Short bursts so you don’t waste ammo. If you get hit, check your shield percentage. These things regenerate, so if you drop to 50%, climb out of there and come back when it’s at full strength. Fast runs, every round on target. Take one out and we hit the next. Got it?”

  “Roger that,” the pilots replied in turn.

  “What do we do?” Mixon asked Walter.

  “Well, hopefully the fighters will keep the gunships occupied. We go after the ground troops, but don’t kill them. We think they’re not willing combatants. Just disable the suits they’re wearing. You see that protruding part on the back? We think that’s a power plant. Maybe if we rip it off, they’ll be disabled.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  “The first jet is starting it’s run. Let’s go.”

  The first two A-10s came zooming in and lined up the first gunship. A short burst from each, every round on target. The other gunships opened fire and scored hits on the two jets.

  “I think we hurt it,” the first pilot replied, “but I took a hit. Shields still at 80%. I’m going after the next one.”

  “I’m right behind you,” the second pilot said.

  As the first two pilots went after the next gunship, two more came behind them and finished off the first one with two sustained bursts from the Gatlings, the 30mm shells ripping through the gunship and turning it into so much minced metal.

  Walter tore the power pack off one of the mechanized suits, and the suit simply fell to its
knees, immobilized. Mixon followed his lead, and before long they were disabling the ground troops so fast they appeared to be nothing but a blur.

  “Stay behind them and they can’t shoot us,” Mixon said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Walter replied.

  Above their heads, one of the gunships erupted in a fireball and debris rained down all around them.

  “Splash one alien,” a pilot’s voice came over the comms.

  “Shields at forty percent,” another pilot said, “I’m pulling out.”

  “Roger that, same here,” another said.

  “The pilots are pulling out to recharge their shields. Maybe we should join them until they’re back in it. We don’t want to get knocked out again,” Walter said.

  It took ten minutes, but the shields recharged and the pilots resumed their attack runs on the gunships, with Walter and Mixon going back below to take out more of the ground troops. The pilots went after one ship at a time, taking it out and taking shield damage from the other ships, while Walter and Mixon disabled the ground troops. They had to pull out and recharge five more times, but not one A-10 took any damage, and before long, there was one gunship left and it tried to make a run for it, with all six Warthogs pursuing in formation. It would have gotten away if Mixon hadn’t flown across its path, causing it to slow down and shoot at her. She dodged the fire for a few seconds, but she was finally hit and knocked out. By the time that happened, the jets had caught up and the sixth one delivered the killing shot, blowing it out of the sky.

  “That’s all of them,” a pilot exulted.

  “Good job boys,” Walter said, “Just let me disable the rest of the mechs and check on Mixon. Then we can land and figure out our next move.”

  “What a headache,” Mixon said two hours later when she woke up at the house, “Did I get hit by one of those things again?”

  “Yeah, but you stopped the last one from getting away,” Walter said.

  “Well, what’s our next move?”