by Julian North
A surveyor drone kept vigil about twenty yards above the entrance ramp to the highway. It seemed to dip in the sky as we approached. I crouched lower, taking deep breaths. Mel fed more gas to the engine, and we hurled onto I-285. We weren’t alone. There were cars all around us, mostly the modern, driverless variety. It seemed that people with the means had decided to get out of the city.
“Damn, there’s always traffic in this frakkin’ city!” Rhett deadpanned. The remark earned him a cross-eyed glance from Mel.
“Their autodrivers can’t link to the net, so they’re all in safety mode,” Mel said in his deep baritone. “Making traffic worse than it needs to be.”
As if to prove Mel’s point, the two sedans riding parallel to each other in front of us simultaneously applied their brakes. Any autodriven vehicle would have made the same adjustment, maintaining the requisite safe distance between vehicles. Mel was no autodriver.
“Jackin’ machines,” he swore as the ambulance swerved around the slowing vehicles onto the road’s shoulder. Brakes screeched behind us as computerized safety systems engaged.
“You’re lucky traffic enforcement has better things to do today,” Rhett observed.
Mel shook his head. “You’re pushin’ me, boy. You shouldn’t. Not today.”
We made steady progress through the clogged highway, even if it wasn’t as quick as any of us wanted. Atlanta faded into the distance, becoming a collection of towers enveloped in a thick smog of fighting. Mel took an exit ramp that led us into an area of low-lying office and distribution complexes. The road was smooth; there were no shipping containers filled with people. Every corner had surveillance cameras, but there wasn’t much for them to see. We pulled up to an intimidating gate of barely translucent ivory. It opened in response to several flicks of Rhett’s finger on his visered hand. Inside, the perimeter was a circular office complex with walls of glass surrounded by a manicured lawn of perfect green.
“Follow the road around to the right,” Rhett said.
Mel grunted as the ambulance rolled along.
“Turn here.”
We came to another gate, this one made of duraglass. I could see a landing facility on the other side. Rhett flicked at his viser. The barrier opened and we drove inside.
The razorFish was a graceful-looking piece of machinery. Its curvy exterior resembled an eagle except for the landing legs attached at each corner. A quartet of magnetic grapples were barely visible under its belly. Its skin was polished to a mirror shine. The cockpit was impenetrably dark, and the rest of the craft appeared windowless. A hose as thick as my neck extended from the ground into the right wing of the razorFish. The sounds of battle were distant, almost muffled, here. The stillness of the scene was almost peaceful. It was as if someone had left this magnificent machine here for Christmas.
“We’ve got it from here, Mel,” Rhett said. “Thanks for your help.”
“Thank the old man. I didn’t want to be here.”
Rhett flashed him two rows of gleaming teeth. “Drive safe, Mel. Try not to worry too much about us.”
“Us?” I asked Rhett pointedly as we stepped out of the ambulance. The sour taste of explosives hung in the air.
“You need a qualified pilot,” he said.
“Alexander can fly.”
“I’m betting he’s never flown a razorFish before. These are converted military aircraft. It’s not the same as a v-copter. You can land them on a dime, but the autopilots are far less reliable.”
Alexander stepped forward. He didn’t want company either. “I appreciate your concern, however—”
Rhett cut him off. “I’ve got the authorization codes to commandeer this aircraft. I can also issue orders to the support ship you’ll need afterward if you succeed. If we succeed. And I can summon additional resources as needed once the net is back up. Oh, and I’m the only one here who has any actual combat experience, brawls in the school cafeteria notwithstanding.”
Alexander was rigid.
“What if that still isn’t good enough?” I asked, even though I already knew he was coming along.
“My uncle insists, and you need him.”
I shared a look with Alexander, then Nythan. We all knew we didn’t have a choice.
Compared with the decadent spaciousness of Alexander’s v-copter, the razorFish was ugly and cramped. This was a work horse, not a luxury transport. The ceilings were low enough to feel claustrophobic, the interior entirely utilitarian, with composite alloy walls and seats. There was room for only four in the main compartment, although a rear cargo area had enough space to carry whatever else might be needed, including additional passengers.
Alexander took a seat next to Rhett, while Nythan and I strapped ourselves in to the stiff, high-back seats behind them. My seat included complicated-looking handles on either side and a control screen.
“That’s the winch operator’s seat,” Rhett said to me. “This baby has unbelievable lift capacity for its size. We can get emergency parts to a rig in under an hour—even huge drill bits, and those things weigh a ton.”
“How does it do at evading military sensors?” Nythan asked.
Rhett smiled. “This is my uncle's ride. It’s got a surprise or two—including an electronic warfare suite that can mess up other aircraft or missiles. High-performance weapons like a force cannon or air-to-air interceptors would just draw attention to us, but the EW package is stealthy. And she cuts through the sky like a missile. No v-copter can catch us in cruise mode.”
“Great. Can it persuade spoiled highborn girls to betray their families?” Nythan asked.
“Enough, Nythan,” I said. “Rhett, let’s go. Alexander will get you the coordinates.”
It took less than five minutes to conduct the preflight checks.
“Brace yourself on takeoff,” Rhett said. “Nothing in the sky can climb like a razorFish.”
He wasn’t kidding. We flew straight up, like a supersonic elevator, with the accompanying g-force pressure. At first, it was as if a collection of iron weights had been placed on my body. The razorFish engines hummed louder, and the pressure increased—like an elephant was jumping on those same iron weights. Nythan had gone from pale white to lettuce green.
“Sorry about that,” Rhett said when he finally eased off the throttle. “I wanted to get above the surveyor drone flight ceiling as quickly as possible. Those things do a good job looking down, but they are mostly blind to what is above them.”
“Isn’t that little maneuver going to draw attention to anyone watching on radar?” Nythan asked.
Rhett didn’t answer at first. He stared at the display in front of him. An angry claxon sounded.
“Yes, it drew attention,” Rhett confirmed more lightly than he should have.
The razorFish banked hard. The engines sounded like a hissing cat. We switched directions again and resumed our climb. Unhappy grunts emanated from the cockpit.
“Jack me. Can’t lose him.” Rhett’s voice was far more serious this time.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Looks like an airhawk-class drone. Air superiority machine. Top-of-the-line military model. I didn’t expect them to deploy one of those over Atlanta so quickly.”
“What about that electronic warfare stuff you were just bragging about?” I asked.
“We manufacture most of the military’s electronic warfare products,” Alexander said. “I know the airhawk as well. Its avionics will be hardened against interference or disruptions.”
“Maybe if we get in close that will help,” Rhett offered without sounding optimistic.
“Activate the terminal at my seat,” Nythan told him. “Give me access to all systems.”
“Why?” Rhett asked. “We can’t afford—”
“Just do it,” I snapped.
The communications system crackled. “The Federal Aviation Authority has declared this a no-fly zone. You are ordered to land your Aircraft immediately or you will be fired upon. This is your only
warning.”
“It’s almost within a thousand feet of us,” Rhett said. “We can’t run. I’m lowering our altitude. Coming to it. Prepping EW measures.”
I looked over at Nythan. He was flicking his viser with one hand, tapping controls with the other.
“Did it work?” I asked.
The piercing scream of an internal alarm was my answer—a short burst that made me cringe. The razorFish yanked downward. I was pinned against my seat restraints. I heard the air sizzle just outside the aircraft's fuselage.
“Force cannon fire from the drone,” Rhett shouted. “It didn’t like you messing with its systems, apparently.”
“Climb,” Nythan said.
“Why? That isn’t a ground surveyor shooting at us. The airhawk can follow anywhere we go. Anyway, they have sensors all around, and they can fire upward. We should dive, try to lose it by hugging the ground.”
“You said this craft can climb faster than anything else in the sky. So climb,” Nythan said from within his working trance. “And don’t distract me anymore.”
“Do it,” I told Rhett. “Nythan knows what he’s doing.” Most of the time.
Rhett kept us steady as he considered. Too long. Another force cannon blast sounded. The razorFish jerked violently as if we were a toy being shoved by a giant. My neck twisted; the safety restraints cut into my skin. I tasted blood in my mouth. The interior lights blinked to black. My heart beat twice before the lights clicked back on.
“Climb now, Rhett, or I must assume control,” Alexander said with remarkable aplomb. I would’ve grabbed the boy’s neck.
The razorfish again climbed straight upward, its engine groaning and hissing. Nythan resumed his furious flicking at the terminal in front of him.
“It’s following and has armed its missiles,” Rhett said. “Our hull won’t be able to take a direct hit.”
“Send our altitude data to my terminal. On my mark, reverse thrust and put us into a vertical dive.”
“A powered dive? That’s crazy. It will be like shooting a missile downward.”
“I don’t have time to explain the physics of this. Your only concern is to keep us dead center of the thing. The grapple has to remain centered on the airhawk or we die.”
“This is insane,” Rhett protested. His voice was filled with the certainty of someone who had been taught one particular way was the only way. A child of privilege.
I reached for the cold of the trill. The angry power of ice was mine. I didn’t have to probe far to know he was highborn. Still, I would do what I must. At least I would try.
Nythan mumbled at his terminal. “Fifty thousand… fifty-five thousand…
“It’s got a missile lock,” Rhett said. He expected to die.
“Now,” Nythan replied, his voice low enough I wasn’t sure if Rhett even heard him over the roar of the engine. But a split second later my stomach nearly emptied itself as we began to drop. My hair rose, my body’s weight lifted, and terror clutched my heart. I couldn’t see outside, but I didn’t need to. The razorFish was plummeting at a speed that exceeded freefall. Nythan had again taken on an unhealthy green pallor, but his eyes stayed locked on the terminal’s display and his fingers didn’t stop twirling—the maestro at work. I hoped he had another masterpiece for us.
The floor vibrated violently. The rest of the airframe followed. The shaking numbed my limbs. Then came the heat. The soles of my shoes grew hot. Heat emanated from the walls. The air became thick and uncomfortable. I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Coughing came from the cockpit. Nythan was sweating, but his concentration remained unbroken. We still had a chance.
It came almost too quickly to process. One moment we were racing downward, the next we weren’t. It was as if the aircraft entered a pool of mud: there was a hard impact followed by deceptive smoothness as our descent slowed. The airframe steadied itself and then moaned as if struggling against a great weight.
“Got him,” Nythan said with satisfaction. “Get ready to cut the engines.”
“What the hell is happening?” Rhett called back. “When do I cut the engines?”
I cringed at the sound of a shattering implosion—like the world’s largest balloon being violently decompressed. My heart jumped. For a moment, I thought we were dead. But it wasn’t our aircraft. It was from outside. Then we were falling again, faster than ever.
“Reverse the damn engines,” Nythan yelled. He wasn’t looking at his screen anymore. “Stabilize us. Whatever.”
“Got it,” Rhett said.
We fell for a few more seconds, the aircraft gyrating before Rhett regained control. The engine noise cut off for a terrifying three seconds as he struggled with the controls before they resumed their steady, comfortable howl. My breathing stabilized with the aircraft.
“No sign of the airhawk,” Rhett pronounced in disbelief. “What the hell did you do?”
“I reversed the polarity of your magnetic grapple.”
“The what?”
“He made the big magnet push instead of pull,” Alexander explained.
“And I concentrated it,” said Nythan, annoyed at being clarified. “All the power of that giant magnetic grapple concentrated by a factor of ten. It punched through the airhawk’s exterior armor like an invisible spear, then the force shoved the thing back to the ground, slowing our descent as it did so, thereby allowing you to stabilize the aircraft.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Meet Nythan Royce,” I said. “He’s handy to have around. I hope you like old movies, though.”
Chapter 29
We reached the coast of New Jersey less than an hour later.
Civilian air traffic was almost entirely missing from the skies, and we stayed well clear of the military craft we detected. No one pursued us. Whatever air assets the opposing sides in this new civil war possessed were apparently being directed at each other for the time being.
“That’s it ahead,” Alexander said.
Rhett brought us in low as we flew back toward the Jersey shore from our flight path over the Atlantic. The razorFish flew no more than fifty feet above the cold rolling waves. I unstrapped my safety harness so I could lean over to get a view through the cockpit window. The Titan-Wind residence was situated on the edge of a barrier island dotted by multistory houses boasting generous lawns and sandy beachfronts, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the estates of Buckhead, at least in terms of size. The house was built into the side of a grassy hill, with the front wall of glass facing the eastern horizon. I imagined what it would be like to wake up in such a setting, with sand, and sun, and water bidding you a good morning, then cursed myself for the fleeting dream. I was beginning to think like them.
“Sensors are not detecting any material energy emissions,” Rhett said. “Seems like no one’s home.”
“They’re there,” Alexander replied. “It looks like a typical vacation home, but there is more to it. A key part of a safe house is that nobody knows you are there. That hill is artificial. There’s dampening equipment inside and a complex below.”
“The landing pad is empty. But anyone paranoid enough to have that kind of setup is going to have defensive measures at their landing facility. Luckily, this baby doesn’t need a pad. I’ll just set down on their lawn. It might leave a mark. The engines come in hot.”
“Jeffery Titan-Wind is going to be pissed,” I said, pleased.
The razorFish settled down gently twenty yards from the front of the house, right between the sparkling swimming pool and the beach.
“I should go in alone,” Alexander said. “I’m sure they are watching. A bunch of strangers is just going to alarm them. They all know me.”
“Anise and I have been classmates for years,” Nythan noted.
“But you don’t like each other.”
Nythan shrugged.
I wasn’t letting Alexander out of my sight. “I’m coming. I know them all as well, even if I’m not as… well-known as you.”
Al
exander didn’t fight me. That saved us time. Rhett opened the hatch, and the two of us lowered ourselves onto Anise’s beautifully manicured lawn. A steady breeze came off the ocean behind us. I squinted as the glass wall reflected the light of the sun.
“Do we knock?” I asked. “Net is still down.”
“They are watching us.”
We approached the enameled onyx door, which was the only part of this side of the house’s exterior that wasn’t transparent. I could see luxurious leather couches, clay tile floors, and a huge glass dining room table through the house’s wall. Alexander reached for the old-fashioned doorknob. It turned in his hand and the door opened. The cool, dry air of a climate-controlled environment escaped from the house and wafted over me. It seemed Alexander was correct about someone being at home.
Alexander stepped over the threshold. I followed him into luxury. I recognized Jeffery Titan-Wind’s tastes in the art on the wall—there were Roman generals aplenty, along with glittering furnishings and expensive-looking antiquities.
“Mr. Jeffery Titan-Wind, we need to speak to you. We need your help, sir,” I said into the air.
Alexander’s head turned sharply to me. I pretended not to notice. We needed a story, and I hadn’t shared the one I intended to use with Alexander. That was for his own good. Alexander had trouble lying. His sense of honor made it painful for him. So I would do what must be done; we couldn’t very well tell Anise’s parents the real reason we had come. I knew I’d pay a price for this with Alexander. I hoped he would understand.
“Can they hear us?” I asked Alexander.
He kept staring at me. In an instant, he figured out what I was going to do, and why. The corners of his mouth sank ever so slightly. I met his gaze, lowering my head. My eyes strained to tell him that I was sorry. And I was. I wasn’t sorry for the lies I would tell, but I was sorry for any pain I brought Alexander. I didn’t know if he understood, or if he was inclined to forgive. But at last he spoke.
“They are listening.”
I nodded. “Please, Mr. Titan-Wind. If you can hear me, please respond.”
