“You’re a godsend,” Mara said with relief. “I brought snacks, but I wasn’t really excited about them.”
“You will like the food, Mara,” Ozendi said as he pulled his helmet off and grinned at her. His tousled helmet-hair made him look younger than usual, heaping a boyish appeal on top of his other attractive qualities. “It is full of flavor.”
“It’s good,” Elroy confirmed in his usual laconic fashion. “Naliryiz—she’s the Doc—has it all ready for you over by my truck.”
“Truck?” Mara asked, raising her eyebrows. Elroy pulled the tiedown free of the box and gave her a shrug and a tiny smile.
“Good a name as any,” he said. “Y’all go eat. I’ll get your bird fueled and turned.”
“Naliryiz is here!” Ozendi stowed his helmet behind his seat, his face splitting in the widest grin Mara had seen from him yet. “I was hoping she would be the one to come!”
“You know her?”
“She is my sister!” He reached down and fumbled at his harness release in his haste to untangle himself and get out of his seat. He pulled the door release, kicked it open, hopped down, and broke into a run toward Elroy’s vehicle. Mara watched as a smaller, female-shaped figure emerged and headed toward Ozendi. She didn’t run, but she did open her arms wide and allow herself to be caught up in a hug that lifted her feet off the ground. Mara snorted softly through her nose as she undid her harness and stepped out of the vehicle. The man was like a puppy sometimes—all endearing exuberance!
Mara spent a long minute or two putting her helmet on her seat and her flying gloves into her pockets before walking around the nose of the Huey to join her copilot and his sister. She didn’t want to intrude on their family reunion, but they were on a bit of a tight timeline if they wanted to get all of their training in today, and she was hungry.
“Mara, please, come meet my sister,” Ozendi called out. He turned, leaving one arm around his sister’s shoulders, and beckoned to Mara with his free hand. His face lit up with joy, and Mara felt a strange, ugly feeling twisting in her gut. She tamped it down hard, anger at her stupid irrationality erupting in her brain. Of course, the man was happy to see his sister! She’d have given anything to see her own family, wouldn’t she?
…and that was another thought best locked away. Mara forced her face into a smile and stuck out her hand as she mentally shoved all of her inconvenient thoughts back behind the steel doors of her mind. “Hello, Doctor,” she said, keeping her voice determinedly light and cheerful. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well, Captain,” Naliryiz said, taking Mara’s hand in her own. She inclined her head slightly, in the way Mara had seen some of the SpinDogs greet each other, and swept her long-lashed eyes closed for a second before returning Mara’s frank gaze.
Naliryiz was, to put it mildly, stunningly beautiful. Where her brother looked every bit like a Pacific Island warrior, Naliryiz had an almost ethereal look to her. Part of that was the slender, delicate build of the orbital-born, but there was also something otherworldly about her eyes, with their long, dark lashes and their honey-colored irises. She looked like she could see right into your soul, a thought which made Mara have to fight the urge to squirm.
“Please,” Mara said. “Call me Mara. Or ‘Bruce,’ if you like. It’s my callsign. Your brother and I haven’t been particularly formal in that way.”
“No,” Naliryiz said, glancing up at Ozendi, her tone dry. “I can see that. But then you must call me Naliryiz. Or ‘Doc,’ as your sergeant does.”
Some of the tension in Mara’s shoulders eased, and she glanced back toward Elroy and the bird with a smile. “He does, does he? You know, that’s a compliment, him giving you that title. You must have impressed him.”
“I have been made aware of the significance of the nickname,” Naliryiz said, her beautiful full lips curving in a smile that sparked through those striking eyes. “I am deeply honored.”
“Well, if he trusts you enough to call you ‘Doc,’ then I do, too. Welcome to the team.”
Ozendi looked between the two women, confusion twisting his face. “I do not understand,” he said.
Naliryiz looked at Mara, but Mara just raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, indicating that the other woman should go ahead and explain.
“On their world,” Naliryiz said, “the warrior caste is but a small part of their society. Those who perform healing arts are not generally part of that caste…except for those who are. When one of their warriors calls a healer ‘Doc,’ it means they honor the warrior within the healer, and they trust the healer to stand beside them in the face of the enemy, if necessary.”
Ozendi frowned at his sister. “Sergeant Frazier does not trust easily.”
“No,” Naliryiz said, “he does not. But one of their team members suffered acutely during planetary entry, due in part to some past trauma, I believe. I treated the man as soon as we landed yesterday, and Sergeant Frazier was grateful. He began calling me Doc after that.”
“What are y’all doing standing here jaw-jacking?” Elroy asked, his deep voice threaded with exasperation. Mara turned to see the big man approaching from where she’d left him at the aircraft. “The bird’s got full bags, ma’am. You need to eat and move out if you’re gonna meet your timeline.”
“Thanks for the reminder, El,” she said. “He’s right. Shall we?”
“This way,” Naliryiz said, gesturing. She turned and led them to the vehicle, now much dirtier than it had been when Mara had last seen Elroy driving it away through the trees.
The big man walked up to it and slapped the front fender affectionately. “This truck ain’t a bad rig at all,” he said. “She made steady progress through the nastiest terrain. Not the most comfortable ride I’ve had in my life, but I’ve had worse, too. And she’s got plenty of cargo room.”
Mara followed Ozendi and Naliryiz to the rear of the vehicle and saw that Elroy was right. There was ample space for two large, nondescript containers in the back. Naliryiz opened one to reveal a stack of local fruits, a container of something that looked like pine-nuts, and two covered bowls. She reached inside and handed one of these to Mara, and the other one to Ozendi.
Mara watched Ozendi and followed his movements as he pulled the cover—a type of close-woven fabric Mara had never seen before—off. He bent over the bowl and inhaled deeply, pleasure writ large on his face.
“Delicious,” he said. “Did you make this, my sister?”
“Iope did,” Naliryiz replied softly. Because Mara was watching Ozendi for clues on how she was to eat this dish, she didn’t miss the slight tensing of his eyebrows, the deepening of the corners of his mouth at his sister’s answer.
“Ah. She’s a wonderful cook,” he said then, his voice clear of any tension. He turned to Mara and grinned. “This is debem. Roasted grain, meat, and local vegetables with spices. You must try it!”
“Use your hands,” Elroy supplied quietly behind her. “Like rice and fish.”
Mara smiled her thanks at him and reached into her bowl. She had to admit that the contents smelled wonderful: savory with heat and a hint of sweetness. She grasped a portion with her fingers and put it into her mouth, trying not to drop any down the front of her flight suit.
Flavor exploded into her mouth. Heat kissed the surface of her tongue, mingled with salt and a deep meatiness that made her eyes go wide with pleasure. She chewed slowly, experiencing the texture as well as the taste.
“Wow,” she said after she swallowed. “This is amazing.”
Naliryiz’s smile grew and, for the first time, she directed it fully at Mara. “I am pleased you like it! Debem has many ingredients that will be beneficial for you. I think you will not need to eat again until you return to us tonight. But you will take these leob fruits and roasted seeds just in case.”
Mara might have doubted at first, but as she continued to eat, she realized the dish was, in fact, extremely filling. As she used her fingers to sweep the last bits o
ut of the bowl, she found herself full, but not uncomfortably so, and she had to admit that Naliryiz could very well be right. The food was in every way superior to her own stash of dry crackers and spreadable cheese.
“We need to go,” she reminded Ozendi as she followed his example and wiped her hands clean on the cloth that had covered her bowl.
“Yes,” he said, excitement in his voice. “I am ready. Thank you, my sister,” he said, and hugged Naliryiz hard with one arm. The slight healer returned the embrace, and, once again, Mara felt a stab of envy. Though whether it was for the closeness of a sibling or for Ozendi’s obvious affection, she couldn’t have said. Rather than think too hard about it, she turned to Elroy.
“You’re all ready to go,” he said. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you land. We’ve got billets set up, and you can meet the rest of the team tomorrow morning. There’s a call scheduled with Murphy tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good,” she said, smiling. “Take care of everyone here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Don’t let the SpinDog kill you.”
“Fiiine. I promise.” She sighed, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. Elroy snorted softly and gave her a tiny grin. She winked at him and turned to walk back to the bird, her mood restored from its momentary dip. It was time to get back in the air.
* * * * *
Chapter Forty-Eight
R’Bak
Their route initially continued to follow the river as it wound through the mountains and out toward the southern plains. The sun—which was hard to think of as the binary system’s “secondary”—angled toward the west as they flew, beams slanting through the terrain and gilding everything below. Mara had taken the controls, giving Ozendi a break and a chance to practice his navigation. She reveled in the feeling of flying as she banked the Huey at a forty-five-degree angle toward a ridge, using the aircraft’s energy state to make the climb up and over.
“Continue down and to the left,” Ozendi instructed, glancing down at the map. She looked out her left window in response and then turned the aircraft further in that direction.
“Clear left,” she announced as the Huey responded to her touch. After so many flight hours, the helicopter was like an extension of her body. She didn’t have to think about the mechanics of balancing her cyclic, collective, and pedal inputs anymore. She merely thought down and left, and the Huey responded.
“We’re going to follow this valley for several kilometers—”
Plink. Plink plink plink…
“Mara! What is that?” Ozendi’s voice on the intercom cut through the sudden, high-pitched scream of the number one engine.
Mara ignored him. She knew what it was.
“Breaking right! Ground fire, ten o’clock!” she said crisply as old training kicked in. She whipped the cyclic to the right, and saw the fire light on the number one engine flash orange against the darkness of the dash. She slammed the collective halfway to the floor and dove for the dubious protection of the trees. As she turned, she glanced down to see what looked like a camp hidden in the trees below. A camp with several vehicles mounted with weapons. Weapons that were shooting at them.
“Engine fire in number one!” Ozendi shouted. “I smell smoke!” He started to reach his hand toward the warning light and the handle that, if pulled, would shut down that engine.
“Wait!” Mara ordered into the intercom as she banked back to the left, initiating a momentary climb that would hopefully make them harder to track. A bend in the ridge further to the left held a promise of safety, if she could get the Huey there in time. “She’s still giving me power! Let her burn, we gotta get out of the WEZ!”
“Mara! More muzzle-flashes! They’re still shooting!”
Mara buried the nose and pulled up on the collective. The scream from the number one engine intensified, and the acrid scent of smoke began teasing into her nostrils. She saw the bend in the ridge draw closer, and she whipped the bird further to the left to put the rock outcropping between the Huey and those determined to take her down. They carved through the air around the terrain and into another narrow mountain valley. Less than a hundred meters below, a tributary stream bubbled over rocks and fallen trees as it flowed to join the river.
She waited for a three count and then eased back on the collective to slow their airspeed into the range that would allow them to fly on only one engine.
“Okay,” she said, forcing her voice to be calm, collected. There was no time for emotions. “Boldface. Now.”
Together, she and Ozendi did the boldface steps of the emergency checklist by memory, shutting down the number one engine and activating the engine fire extinguisher. The warning light winked out, which made her draw in a deep, shaky breath of relief.
“All right,” she said then. “Get the checklist. Let’s clean this up and see what we’ve got.”
To his credit, Ozendi had regained his composure and situational awareness, and he had the checklist ready to go. In truth, Mara couldn’t fault him for losing it momentarily. Everyone reacted differently to being shot at, and almost no one held it together the first time.
“Power, checked,” Ozendi read.
“Roger,” Mara said. “You watch the engine gauges; I’ll keep an eye on the rotor and the torque. We should have right at fifty percent available.”
“Roger,” Ozendi echoed. “Copilot is posted on the engine gauges.”
“Power’s coming in,” Mara said, and she began a slow, steady pull of the collective. The number two torque needle rose in response, climbing through thirty percent, forty…
“Stop pull! Number two engine temperature is at maximum!”
“Shit,” Mara said, glancing down at the stack of engine gauges to confirm it was true. Sure enough, the number two engine temperature gauge showed the needle right at the red line. Even worse, as she watched, the oil pressure in the number two engine began to decrease at a slow, but steady, rate. “They must have hit number two as well. We’re going to have to land.”
“Can we fly it back to the settlement?” Ozendi asked, though the sick tone of his voice indicated he already knew the answer.
“I don’t think we’ve got that much time,” Mara said. “The oil pressure is already at the minimum. I know it’ll run for a little while if it pisses all the oil out, but if it comes apart, it’s gonna be ugly. I think we’ll have a better chance if we shut it down on our terms and make a safe autorotation.”
“Okay,” Ozendi said. “Okay. Let me see—” he looked down at the map, and then back up again. “Yes! I know where we are. There is a plateau ahead, into which this stream spills as a small cascade. The plateau is a flood plain. Mostly flat and very wide, without a lot of trees. It is a good space for autos.”
Privately, Mara thought that nowhere other than a prepared runway constituted “a good space for autos,” but she didn’t think saying so would be particularly helpful. Instead she concentrated on flying at sixty knots; that airspeed would give her the maximum rate of climb. Or it should.
It also occurred to her that whoever had shot at them was still somewhere out beyond their six, but that thought was even less helpful at the moment, so she pushed it away and kept flying.
Below them, the mountain stream twisted and turned, cutting through the rocks on either side. It was probably only a minute or two, but it felt like hours before Mara spotted the waterfall ahead.
“There it is!” Ozendi said, the joy in his tone making it clear that he, too, had been anxious.
“Okay,” Mara said. “The winds are pretty calm, so I’m just going to shoot this along the longest axis, which is probably going to be parallel with the stream, right?”
“Mostly,” Ozendi said.
“Good enough. I’ve managed to eke out a little more altitude for us, so I’m gonna trade that for some extra airspeed and try to enter this thing as close to ninety knots as possible. I want to make it look as much like what we practiced as I can, all right? As soon as I enter and ro
ll the throttle to flight idle, I want you to shut the engine down, okay? Get that throttle off so I’m not trying to reengage it at the bottom. Don’t worry about the pilot not flying calls, I’ll make them for myself. Got it?”
“Got it,” Ozendi confirmed, and a tiny corner of Mara’s mind laughed to hear him solemnly repeat the Earth-born slang phrase.
Mara eased the cyclic forward, pulling in power right to forty percent, and willed the aircraft to accelerate. The airspeed needle crept around the dial, slowly reaching first seventy knots, then eighty…
“Over the falls now,” Ozendi said, his voice calm.
“Roger,” Mara said, keeping her own voice empty of emotion. “This is real world, crew. Entering in three…two…one. Autorotate. Throttles Flight Idle.”
As she spoke the words, Mara slammed the collective to the floor and rolled the number two throttle all the way back to the idle stop. The speed with which she’d lowered the collective helped to spike her rotor speed, which was what she wanted. She felt the throttle move beneath her hand as Ozendi toggled the idle stop release and rolled the twist grip throttle all the way off, shutting the engine down. It got eerily quiet after that, with only the whine of the rotor in the background.
“Two hundred feet,” Ozendi said, reading off the radar altimeter. Mara’s eyes flicked through her crosscheck, looking first at her rotor speed, then her airspeed, then her trim ball, then glancing outside to her intended landing area. It loomed before them, and only Mara’s discipline and years of habit patterns kept her from getting sucked into staring at the ground rushing toward them.
“One fifty,” Ozendi said.
Rotor. Airspeed. Trim. Outside…
“One hundred feet. Flare, flare, flare.”
As Ozendi made the flare call, Mara pulled back on the cyclic, a little bit at first, and then gradually more and more as she progressively bled her airspeed off and converted that energy into rotor speed. She could hear the whine of the rotor increase in pitch, and she gritted her teeth and forced herself not to pull up on the collective to correct it. This was for real. She wanted all the rotor energy she could get.
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