Flight Of The Old Dog pm-1

by Dale Brown

  "Kak vasha imva?Atkooda vi?" the Russian said stiffly, "Who are you?

  Where are you from?You are not fisherme "Sputniks," Elliott said, getting the bare gist of questions. "Travelers. "Sergei was still looking suspicious. Suddenly he snatched at the yellow survival radio, and before Elliott could grab it back Sergei had read U.S. AIR FORCE on a back instruction plate. McLanahan quickly raised his revolver to Sergei's head.

  "I think we lost our buddy here, troops," Elliott said and pointed at the truck. "Patrick, check out that tank truck.

  how much kerosene it has."

  McLanahan gave his revolver to Angelina, who pointed it with some expertise at the Russian. McLanahan found a dipstick in the truck's cab, climbed on top of the truck checked the amount of fuel inside through a cap.

  "Probably one-quarter full," he said.

  "Not enough. Okay, tovarisch, " Elliott said in Russian want gasoline in truck. Mnye noozhna binzuh he ta on the truck. Sergei did not move, unsure.

  "I'll convince him, General," Angelina said. She propelled the Russian around to the side of the truck where McLan was busy lifting a high-pressure hose. McLanahan fast one end of the hose onto the truck, the other to one of the valves rising from the ground. Angelina motioned to the truck with her revolver.

  "Help him," she said. The Russian looked at McLan lugging the heavy hose, then blankly back at Angelina. Angelina cocked the revolver and held it to the Russian's forehead. "Now.

  Sergei held up his hands and nodded, walked to McLanahan and gestured for him to reattach the hose at another valve, then removed and replaced the end of the hose at the truck. When the hose was fully attached Sergei opened the valves and kerosene began rushing from the tank to the truck. Minutes later the truck was full.

  "Patrick, you drive the panel truck," Elliott asked. "Angelina, go with him. I'll ride with our buddy here in the tanker."

  McLanahan ran over to the Zadiv, started it up and waited for Elliott and the Russian to get in the tanker.

  "Pazhaloosta, " Elliott said when he and Sergei had climbed inside the icebox-like cab of the tanker. He gestured at the truck outside the fence, then pointed his pistol at the Russian.

  "Vetam napravIvend. Please. This way."in= watched the muzzle of the.45.When Elliott ntly swung it too high he reached out with his right hand and tried to grab it away. He'd been a clown too long…

  A shot rang out, and the windshield of the tanker truck exploded, showering them with shards of glass. Sergei leapt out of the truck, running back around the fence. No longer a hero.

  McLanahan and Angelina caught a glimpse of him just as he disappeared down a line of trees that paralleled the flightline road, and Angelina took a shot at him but the bullet ricocheted harmlessly away.

  McLanahan ran for the tanker and jumped into the cab.

  "You all right, General?"

  "Yes, dammit, but things are going to get tense here real quick. "He turned to Angelina as she came to the right side of the tanker. "Take the panel truck to the plane. Patrick and I will take the tanker.

  Sure as hell he's going to call for help, we won't have much time.

  It took a few moments for McLanahan to figure out how to get the fuel truck moving, but soon the two trucks pulled up to where they had half-hidden the Old Dog in a wide parking area between two hangars.

  Ormack came running out, the second survival revolver in hand. He saw the smashed windshield, looked to Elliott. "What… T' "We had a comrade but he bugged out on us. We've got to work fast before he calls in the Marines. John, you'll be u the cockpit on the fuel panel.

  I think I can figure out how to work the pump on the tank truck so I'll be outside. "He went over to Angelina in the panel truck. "Pull the truck over to the right wingtip. Patrick, climb up on the right wing, open one of the fuel filler ports and we'll fill it from there.

  Angelina help with the hose. Where's Wendy and Dave?"

  "I've got Dave in the cockpit monitoring the engine Ormack said.

  "Wendy is on the radios calling for help.

  "Any luck?"

  "Not yet. I'm not sure what anyone can do for us anyway unless we lift off out of here."

  Ormack then began unreeling the refueling hose from the truck while McLanahan climbed on the Old Dog's right win screwdriver in his teeth.

  "The main-wing tanks have dozens of holes in them," Ormack told Elliott as the general began to decipher and operate the truck's pump controls.

  "The forward body tank had a few leaks too. McLanahan will pump fuel into the center tank. I'll plan on keeping the fuel in the center, aft and body tanks, but once we get up to engine start and takeoff v have to put fuel in the mains. We'll be losing fuel like crazy after that-" "Nothing we can do about it," Elliott said, "unless you got enough chewing gum to plug the holes. "Elliott started the truck's fuel pumps and waved to McLanahan, who had the cap off the center-wing fuel tank and was dragging the hose across the wing and over to the fuselage.

  "Ready anytime you are, Patrick. "Huddled against the biting wind, McLanahan inserted the fuel nozzle into the open fuel port on the fuselage between the two huge wings and began pumping fuel. Below him, Orrr ran inside the Old Dog and took Luger's place at the controls.

  Luger, right leg heavily taped and bandaged, limped downstairs and out to the fuel truck, carrying several quart cans taped together. "I found the spare oil downstairs near survival rations. I'll fill up the number two engine with oil-at least we should be able to use it for takeoff before it disintegrates."

  "Good, Dave… how you doing?"

  "Great," Luger said, dropping the case of oil on the fender to spell himself. "I have a blinding headache, freezing cold and my right leg looks like Swiss cheese. How are you, sir?"

  "Got you beat, Dave, but if I talk too much I'm afraid I'll pass out."

  "Let me handle the pump, General. You get inside."

  "No, put the oil in, then see what you can do about ripping loose some of the metal and that broken tip gear off the wings It's all drag-we can do without it. Especially for a sevenengine takeoff.

  "You got it, sir… you know, I still don't believe we're doing this. I mean, actually stealing gas from a Russian fighter base "We may be pumping water into our tanks, for all we know.

  There just wasn't time to keep on looking And so saying, Elliott seemed to be drifting off, falling asleep, the rush of adrenaline wearing off…

  j Chief Constable Vjarelskiv, the regional militia commander grimaced as he took a sip of what he was told was koffee, a thick liquid of grain and coffee. He took a bite of khl,lep to take the dusty taste away, glaring all the time at Serbientlov, who was standing wringing his hat in his hands in front of Vjarelskiv's desk.

  "This is nonsense, Serbientlov," the constable asked. "You bring me tales of armed attackers at the base-two men and a woman… What did they steal?Your precious Chinese chopsticks?Are you sure you didn't dream up the whole story?

  "This is no joke, tovarisch, " Sergei asked. "If we don't hurry they'll get away."

  "With what?A snow plow?Your noodles?"

  "They commandeered a fuel truck, and… and they had explosives.

  They threatened to blow up everything. The whole base. You have to do something-" "Your story gets taller every moment, Serbientlov," the constable said. He leaned back into his chair, fixing Sergei with an icy stare. "Are you sure this is not a… shall we say, a falling-out of thieves?"

  Sergei fidgeted uncomfortably but managed to sound indignant.

  "Thieves?You are not accusing me, tovarisch?The only thieves here are the ones out-" "Stop it, Serbientlov. The little empire you've built at the base is well-known, at least to the citizens in the area.

  You use more diesel in four months than the whole Soviet navy uses in a year, supposedly for your fleet of plows but the streets and runways are always clogged with snow and you feed your gut with Chinese noodles and real coffee. "Vjarelskiv threw his grain beverage into a garbage can.

  "Now I'm busy, so you'll
-" "Chief Constable, I demand that you send a unit out to investigate. That's your job. You convinced the Far East Defense Force that for a price you could handle any security vroblems at the base during the winter. They wouldn't be to happy to learn that fifty thousand liters of fuel that you supposed to be protecting have vanished- The constable stood and grabbed Serbientlov by the colllar.

  "You maggot. You dare to threaten me?I'll throw your body into one of your snowdrifts where they won't find it till summer But as e watched the caretaker wilt under his tirade the chief constable also knew that the old man had already destroyed his own career and could take his along with him. "All right, I'll send a patrol out-" "An armed unit," Serbientlov asked. "I want-" "What you want is irrelevant.

  I won't have my men wind up in a fight with your pirates. Now get out of my sight. "He pushed Serbientlov toward the door, watched him scramble away, then turned to his intercom. "Sergeant, take a Patrol-wait, take a squad with the halftrack out with Serbientlov to the base. Have him show you where he saw his so-called robbers. If you find anyone, bring him back to me. If you don't find evidence of robbery, bring Serbientlov back to me-in a set of CUffs.

  "God, it's freezing up there," McLanahan said as he ran into Elliott near the cab of the tanker truck, trying to warm his hands. He'd been obliged to switch places with Angelina on top of the Old Dog…

  after almost an hour of pumping kerosene in the bitter Siberian cold he had lost feeling in hands and feet. "Fifty thousand liters of fuel-kerosene should be enough to make it.

  I'll feel better when we're out of here. "Elliott's voice came in weak, barely audible grunts. Instantly McLanahan forgot his own cold, reached into Elliott's pockets and extracted the survival radio.

  "Ormack, this is McLanahan.

  General Elliott is almost unconscious out here."

  "Copy," Ormack asked. "We got enough-all body tanks are full. I've started putting fuel into the leaking mains. Get the general inside, then start wrapping things up down there."

  "Roger. "McLanahan shoved the radio into his own pocket, then took hold of Elliott's jacket and started to pull him out of the tanker.

  "Let's go, General. "McLanahan half-walked, half-carried him to the belly hatch, then called up to Wendy, who ran down and helped Elliott up the ladder to the upper deck, then over to his seat in the cockpit.

  "Wendy, push in all the vent-control knobs at the left side station downstairs," McLanahan asked. "It'll pump all the heat to the upper deck. I'll get Angelina and Dave."

  McLanahan ran back outside. Angelina called to him, "I'

  In not getting any more."

  "We're packing up," he said over the whine of the idling number — four engine. "I'll help you button up in a minute. "He 4 searched and found Luger near the left wingtip. He had just wrestled a big piece of hanging fibersteel skin off what remained of the left wingtip.

  "Dave, we're done refueling. Let's go."

  Two local militiamen in long, gray-green greatcoats, black fur caps and carrying forty-year-old bolt-action rifles came into the caretaker's office, made a quick check of the small flightfine building, hurried outside.

  The squad leader called out to the halftrack. Sergeant Gazetii waved them back inside and turned on Serbientlov.

  "There is no one here, caretaker. I would not like to be in your shoes when Comrade Chief Constable Vjarelskiv gets his hands on you."

  Sweat broke out on Serbientlov's face despite the bitter cold of the early morning. "They were here… I swear-" "Show me this fuel tank and the truck, caretaker," Gazetii said. The halftrack rumbled down the road paralleling the deserted.snow-choked flightline and taxiway. A few minutes later they had pulled to a stop outside the fence surrounding the large white tank.

  "This is the tank?" Gareth said emerging from the steel interior of the armored haiftrack. "A tank of heating oil?What would your terrorists want with a tank full of heating oil?"

  "I don't know," Serbientlov said in exasperation. "But they forced me at gunpoint to fill the tank truck. I narrowly escaped with my life.

  They had three guards on me and… a couple machine guns, but I escaped" Comrade Sergeant. "One of the militiamen pointed to tracks in the deep snow.

  Gazetii studied them carefully.

  "Fairly fresh And then, he heard it… the fused roar of a jet aircraft engine in the distance. He turned to Serbientlov. "Is that an aircraft?I didn't know you had aircraft here this time of year?"

  Serbientlov listened, then blanched. "But we don't have a aircraft here.it… it must be the terrorists… English terrorists.

  Gazetii waved his men back into the halftrack and directed them down the flightline toward the noise.

  Angelina had just slipped off the Old Dog's right wingtip to the roof of the Zadiv panel truck. McLanahan was back on top of the Old Dog's fuselage just behind the ejection-hatch cover scraping snow and dirt off the center-wing-tank fuel cap a: replacing the cap. Luger, half-dragging his right leg, was pulling the fuel hose back toward the tanker truck.

  Wendy had jumped out the belly hatch of the Old Dog to look for her fellow-crewmembers when she saw a large, square vehicle roll to a stop just around the end of one of the hangars surrounding their parking spot.

  Her heart stopped. It was a Russian armored vehicle, with a Russian soldier sitting behind a shielded gun-mount.

  "Patrick…"Wendy pointed her finger at the vehicle. "Over there "Yanimnogah simye," Gazetii swore as the halftrack driver stomped on the brakes. "Shto etah?" What he and the other saw in the dim three-month-long twilight was a huge, black unearthly winged creature with a long pointed nose and large ungainly wings.

  "Etaht samalyot?" one of the militiamen asked. "I've net seen a plane like that before."

  "It has no markings, no insignia," another asked. "It must be some kind of experimental aircraft "That's it," Serbientlov insisted.

  "That's their plane, that's the plane that that the terrorists almost forced me into.

  You've got to stop them. Destroy it-" "Control yourself, Serbientlov.

  " Gazetii jumped out of the half-track. "What if it's one of our experimental aircraft?We have them, you know. Corporal, contact Chief Constable Vjarelskiv. Tell him we have an unidentified aircraft parked on the center parking ramp on the base. I am going to talk to the crew. Everyone else stay here.

  Luger tossed the hose as far as he could away from the Old Dog's wheels. "Pat, Angelina. We've got us some company."

  Angelina had already heard Wendy's warning and spotted the half-track.

  She quickly climbed down off the Zadiv and sprinted for the Old Dog's belly-hatch. McLanahan screwed the tank cap closed, then slid down the fuselage to the right wing. When he saw a Russian soldier emerging from the half track he slid across the wing to the leading edge between the two engine nacelles, shimmied over the edge and dropped to the snow.

  Hearing Wendy's warning, Ormack stopped strapping the nearly unconscious Elliott into an upper-deck crash-seat, jumped into the left seat, looked out the left cockpit window and saw the halftrack.

  "Goddamn, " he shouted over his shoulder, hoping his voice would carry.

  "Wendy, get everyone on board. "He then slapped the wing flap switch to full DOWN and double checked the fuel panel, opening the fuel supply from the fuselage tanks to the engines. He moved the number-four engine throttle to ninety percent power, leaned across the co pilot's seat and put the engine number-five starter-switch to START, using engine bleed-air from the running number-four engine to spin the turbine on the number-five engine. When that engine's RPMs moved to fifteen percent he jammed its throttle to eighty-five percent to begin pumping fuel into the engine's ignition-chamber.

  A thunderous bang reverberated through the Old Dog, and the right wing shuddered. Ormack scrambled over to the right "Visa cockpit window.

  The entire number-five engine was engulfed in smoke. He checked the engine instruments. The RPMs of that engine were slowly increasing but wondrously there was no indication of fire
. Another loud bang and the engine RPMs stopped at forty percent.

  The HATCH NOT CLOSED AND LOCKED light on the front-instrument panel snapped off, and a moment later Wendy reported everyone was aboard.

  "Get Patrick up here," Ormack called out, and McLanahan came scrambling up to the cockpit to see General Elliott in his emergency web seat, forehead and face dripping fresh sweat, head lolling back with fever.

  "He's out of it," Ormack asked. "Get up here. I'll fly the plane from the left seat. You get in the co-pilot's seat monitor the instruments."

  McLanahan hesitated" McLanahan!"

  Patrick shook himself.stepped carefully around Elliott. Just before climbing into the co-pilot's seat he reached down, retrieved Elliott's.45 caliber automatic from his holster. "Can we start the rest of the engines?" he said, looking at the gauges.

  "Not yet. When number five reaches forty-five percent switch off its starter and switch on three, six.seven and eight. Move the throttles up to IDLE when each engine RPM reaches fifty percent. Watch the fire lights-that kerosene has been giving us some hard ignitions."

  McLanahan nodded and watched number five RPM gauge, a finger on the starter switch.

  Ormack opened the left-cockpit window. The Russian soldier was now advancing on the Old Dog, more cautiously than before the engines were started. He did not hear Ormack open the sliding window.

  "He's still coming," Ormack said. McLanahan pulled the automatic from his jacket pocket and tapped Ormack's shoulder with it. Ormack turned, saw the gun. "If we start a firefight here "We may not have any choice."

  Ormack nodded, took the gun, keeping it out of view. McLanahan pointed at the number five RPM gauge. "RPMs are up to forty-five. Number five starter off. Starting three, six, seven and eight. "The Russian militiaman walked right up to within fifteen yards of the Old Dog, toward the left cockpit window, pistol holster in clear view on his waist but his weapon still in it. When he heard the number three engine start to spool up he drew his right index finger across his throat.

  "He wants us to shut down," Ormack said. He shook head at the soldier.