B00ICVKWMK EBOK

by Unknown

  Just thirty yards away Timothy Wilkes sat in his bed in the darkened room. His eyes had become accustomed to the dark and he listened carefully for the movement of the guards. After a few moments, he heard footsteps as the guards passed his door and headed to their station at the end of the hall. A minute later he heard them talking and occasionally laughing, unconcerned for the boy and his predicament. Already that day they had taken him with them to the motor pool and let him watch one of the mechanics work on an engine. He had asked many questions and thanked them for letting him go out.

  After supper, the guard had placed him in the room and locked the door. Timothy had changed his clothes, crawled into the bed and turned out the lamp. On hearing the guards take their place for the night, Timothy silently crawled out of bed and reached under the mattress. He pulled out the wrench he had taken from the toolbox without them seeing him. He had placed it in his pants with one end in his sock.

  He made his way across the room to the curtained window. He could see the shadow of the bars through the cloth. In four places around the sill there were bolts coming through the wall that held the bars in place. Timothy placed the wrench up to the nut holding the bolt in place. It fit perfectly. With all the strength he had, he tried to turn the nut. It didn’t budge. After several tugs and even a few on the other bolt near the bottom, Timothy took the wrench off and stood back. He wouldn’t be able to get the bolts off. But maybe his Daddy could.

  Chapter 10

  Underway

  By 8 a.m. Rokka and his sons had arrived and carried their possessions down to the pier. Sitting in the water was the plane they had been training on. Rokka was a little surprised that the thing was real. But he had come to know that the things Mike came up with not only were real, but worked well enough. The small crew took their bags and placed them in the after compartment of the plane around the blisters. Hadaie was already there storing the navigation charts and checking the instruments. As a precaution, he had installed a navigation system that would calculate their position within three feet. It was disguised in an instrument that had been known as LORAN. Since there was no LORAN system on the planet, his newer one would take its place. Luckily, it took its readings from the Lexington and if captured would be useless. Jim Ramey welcomed them.

  “Glad you guys made it. Mike is a little late getting up this morning,” he said.

  Josen stifled a laugh. “Maybe he has other things on his mind,” he giggled. Panor almost burst out laughing himself when Rokka said, “Shame on you both, especially you Panor. You had to leave your wife as well.”

  “And I too found it difficult to leave, father,” he said with a grin.

  Rokka shook his head. “Youth is wasted on you,” he said.

  They looked as Mike and Jo came out of the house and walked down the lawn to the pier. Jo came up to Rokka and the others. “You take care of yourselves,” she said as she gave each of them a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “Do not worry,” Rokka said. “I will keep his nose clean,” he said using a phrase he had heard Mike use every so often. His grin was all the reassurance Jo needed.

  “Well, the food and equipment is all aboard, the tanks are full and everything is ready. Preflight checks are complete,” Ramey said walking up to the group. “Well now, you coming along too?” he asked Jo.

  “Don’t give me half a chance,” she said.

  Jim Ramey gave his daughter a big hug. “You take care dear. We’ll all be home before you know it.”

  “I know, Dad,” she said. A tear formed in the corner of her eyes that she quickly blinked away.

  “Now where are those military types?” Mike wondered. At that same instant, a military vehicle came through the gate and sped toward the plane, grinding to a halt just 20 feet from the end of the pier. Out came two men dressed in a sort of camouflage uniform. They walked over and saluted. The older man spoke first.

  “Mister Wilkes?” he asked.

  “That’s me, Colonel,” Mike answered.

  The colonel was impressed that the young man knew his rank. He smiled a toothy grin revealing one tooth missing. “I’m Colonel Leftin, Royal Marines, sir. This is my assistant, Major Desti. His Majesty asked us to go along with you on your little trip and help out if we can,” he said informally.

  Mike extended his hand and felt the colonel’s vice-like grip. “You are very welcome, Colonel,” he said, then making the introductions. “You can stow your gear in there,” he said pointing toward the open blister.

  The Colonels’ face had the look of concern. “That’s an awfully strange looking boat, sir. I didn’t know this lake had a major river running from it to the sea.”

  “It doesn’t,” Ramey said. “Colonel, you are about to have the thrill of your life.”

  “If you say so, sir,” he said handing his pack to a man inside the plane.

  After several minutes of putting away all the bulky gear, Mike told the other men to clear away and handle the lines. The crew from the Lexington exited the plane and stood on the lawn while two stood by the lines on the pier.

  Mike gave Jo one last kiss.

  “Remember to come back to me,” she said.

  He gave her a wink and took his turn crawling through the open blister. Ramey slid the Plexiglas cover around and closed the blister on the outboard side. Inside, Rokka climbed up the tower and took his place at the engineer’s console. He began to prime the engines. Panor went up to the forward compartment and took his seat while Hadaie and Ramey took their places in the radio/navigation compartment just behind the cockpit. Josen took his place with Mike in the cockpit and began going down the list. When all was ready, Mike opened the side window and called out “CLEAR!”

  Mike then adjusted the throttles and the pitch and engaged the starter. Just as in the simulator, the big Pratt and Whitney radial on the starboard side began to turn over, coughed once and then began spinning rapidly. The puff of blue smoke quickly blew behind the aircraft. A moment later, the port engine began to turn, cough and then spin rapidly.

  The men on the dock were being whipped by the wind from the three bladed propellers as Rokka reported that the engines’ cylinder head temperatures were approaching normal. With a final call, the lines were cast off and then thrown into the open blister. Once done, the Colonel followed his quick instructions and closed it. He and the Major watched as the craft began to glide away from the dock and out into the lake.

  Once clear, Mike opened the throttles to their takeoff position and adjusted the pitch to get the maximum power from the engines. The Colonel’s eyes went wide as the radials began to roar. He could feel the vibration from each explosion inside the cylinders. The Colonel looked over at the Major and was relieved that he looked even more frightened than the colonel felt. Faster and faster the plan began skipping across the water and the Colonel marveled at the speed they were making. If this was any indication, they would be getting there in just three days.

  Suddenly he saw the Major stiffen and grip the gun mount in front of him. The Colonel then felt something he had never experienced in his life. Frantically he looked out the window to see the water drop from under them and the sound of the water go away. “Oh my GOD!!!” he cried out as the plane climbed higher.

  From the compartment just forward of the blisters, Ramey started to laugh. He had kept the door open between the compartments so he could keep an eye on the Colonel and his assistant. Now he was glad he did. The image of two men, their faces a mask of terror and their hands gripping the aluminum pole that mounted the .50 caliber’s so hard as to leave an impression, was one he would keep for the rest of his life. Sitting across from him, even Hadaie seemed amused.

  Jo and the team from the Lexington stood and watched as the plane slowly climbed higher and turned toward the south. She didn’t go back to the house until the plane was gone from sight.

  Across the water, Shala watched from the barn, where she had first seen Mike and Jo take off in their plane five years before. Now Rokka
, Panor and Josen were flying in another of those machines to fight the same man they had fought back then. As the plane disappeared into some clouds, she wondered what the outcome would be this time.

  “So you want to manufacture two of these fighter planes to beam down once the action begins,” Captain Dickson said sitting in his desk chair. Wilkes had given him an initial outline of the problem earlier and how it might be solved, but now the ideas had been fleshed out. Thompson had even joined in on the planning and had recommended the Captain’s approval. So far, it was well within Mike’s wishes. Thompson was standing back letting Wilkes do the talking. “Once you get these planes down there, who will pilot them?” the Captain asked.

  “Actually, no one will,” Wilkes said with a smile.

  “It’s a good idea,” Thompson finally chimed in. “There would be no way for us to train two of the Lexington crew to do the job right, so we let the Lexington do it.”

  “You see, Captain, we install simulator emitters in the cockpit of each plane and link them to the simulator computers on the Lexington. The computers have been programmed to simulate the reflexes, senses and manners of two fighter aces from the U. S. Army Air Corps of World War II, on Earth. We stream the planes down, initiate the program and the pilots handle the aircraft just like they would in the simulator. Actually it would be even better than real pilots since the simulator pilots won’t be affected by g-forces or enemy fire,” Wilkes said.

  Dickson was impressed. The use of the new simulator technology to help fight the battle was a stroke of genius. Even if the planes were lost, there would be no one there to give away secrets, or for Brana’s men to hold hostage. “Not bad,” he said. “Will the planes you selected be able to take on these shuttlecraft?”

  “I ran an analysis of Levid’s shuttles from our last encounter,” Thompson said. “According to our experiences with them, these planes can outdo anything they can except in altitude. But with tight maneuvering in the atmosphere, we will be able to out turn, out dive, out climb and even run a little bit faster on level ground in a combat maneuvering situation. They are a good choice.”

  “And I have it from good authority that they will sweep the sky for us,” Wilkes said with confidence.

  Dickson stood up and walked around his desk. “I once read where fighter pilots were mostly boast and brag when it came to what they could do. Just who are the two pilots we will be sending down there?”

  “The computer selected them actually,” Wilkes said. “One of them is named Bud Anderson and the first one I met was a guy named Chuck Yeager. I never heard of them before, but that was a lot of history ago.”

  At the mention of Yeager’s name Dickson straightened up. A smile crept across his face. “You are not a student of history I take it, Commander,” he said. He sat on the edge of his desk. “I once read a book of that man’s exploits. An ace in World War Two, fought in Korea with more kills, went on to serve in what was called the Vietnam War and later became a Brigadier General in the United States Air Force. They said he had 20/10 vision and could see things miles before anyone else could. He was also the first human being to fly an aircraft faster than the speed of sound,” Dickson said with some admiration. “And from what I gather, he nearly died a few times taking his planes farther and faster into what they called the edge of the envelope.” He looked at Wilkes. “You have made a fine choice Commander. When will the aircraft be complete?”

  Thompson smiled at him. “One is finished already and the other just started. You want to see it?”

  Dickson stood and straightened his tunic. “Lead the way, Number One.”

  They all three exited Dickson’s ready room and made their way to engineering. At first, they looked in as the replicators were putting the final touches on the 12 cylinder, turbocharged, liquid cooled engine for the second plane. The raised letters spelling Rolls Royce were on the valve covers of the massive engine. The engineers were carefully removing the engine and its components from the replicator and placing it on a rolling stand to wait for the rest of the aircraft. Dickson walked over and touched the spindle protruding from the front. He had always been fascinated in things mechanical. This engine was almost all mechanical in its nature and operation. Only the electrical system worked without moving parts.

  “How many horsepower?” he asked.

  One of the engineers smiled at him. “The last one we ran up on the bench. She produced nearly 1,600 horsepower at a sea-level equivalent. Slightly more than the original, but we have a little better materials and tolerances,” he said with some satisfaction. Dickson could tell the man was enjoying putting these things together.

  “A thing of beauty,” Dickson said. “Nice job,” he added.

  The engineer grinned like a new father and Dickson, Thompson and Wilkes headed aft to the hangar bay. When the hangar bay access door opened, Dickson almost gasped. There in the middle of the bay was a shining P-51 Mustang. The overhead lights gleamed in its mirrored surface, as one crewman was actually wiping the fingerprints off the plane. Sitting on the nose was the largest propeller Dickson had ever seen, and he could see the exhaust ports from the engine just behind it aiming backward toward the tail. She was sleek, shiny and something to treasure.

  Dickson walked up to the plane and placed his hand on its side. “I have seen photographs of these planes in history books, but nothing can compare to actually seeing one up close.”

  “She’s something,” Wilkes said. “Chuck swears by them,” he said.

  “Makes you want to climb in and start her up,” Thompson said.

  “You can if you want to,” the engineer said, still holding his rag.

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” the Captain said.

  The engineer nodded. “Hang on a sec,” he said as he tossed Wilkes the rag and climbed up the left side of the plane. “You need to get way back,” he said as he climbed into the cockpit and slid behind the stick. After flipping a variety of switches, he leaned left and right to make sure no one was anywhere near the big propeller and engaged the starter. The propeller turned slowly and you could hear the starter motor whining inside and the compression was built up and then released inside the huge cylinders. First one, then more began to fire and the smoke blew out the exhaust ports as the engine caught and spun at idle. It was exhilarating. Like the big radials of the PBY, you could feel the power, but it was more subdued and almost sang as the engineer revved the engine. After a minute, he reduced the throttle and cut the switches and the propeller slowly came to a stop.

  The engineer squeezed out of the cockpit, his face still split wide with a grin. “I want one for Christmas, Captain,” he said from the wing.

  Dickson looked at the others and shrugged his shoulders. “So do I,” he said as they waved their thanks to the engineer and left the hangar bay.

  The ships had entered the small naval base in the early hours of the morning. One by one they pulled to the pier and began taking on fuel and feed water. They had steamed at flank speed for two days and had burned up nearly three million gallons of fuel in the effort. Some of the smaller ships had come in on fumes. They had gotten to the piers first.

  The largest of the ships anchored in the bay and waited. She was down to less than 100,000 gallons of fuel, yet she, like the others kept all her boilers steaming, even as she waited. By mid afternoon her turn came and the six tugs were used to push her into the pier where 2.4 million gallons of thick oil were pumped from the hillside tank farm into her empty bunkers.

  It took another four hours to finish the job. By then, the sun was touching the surface of the sea. One by one the lines holding the huge ship were cast off and the tugs eased her back into the center of the bay. Then her mighty engines began to turn again and she followed the smaller ships out to sea. By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon she and her escorts were well away and picking up speed. They didn’t notice a twin engine aircraft swing around the eastern tip of the island and come in for a landing in the bay.
r />   Mike was exhausted. After taxiing the plane to a low pier where the small craft were normally docked, he eased forward and shut off the ignition switches to the two radials. The propellers each slowed and stopped almost together and Mike slumped back into his seat. Outside, a small boat had grabbed a line from one of the men inside and ran it to men on a short pier. With some effort, the men began pulling the craft snug into the pier. Josen looked over at his friend. Mike had taken on a huge task and it was starting to show. If Mike felt only half of what he felt like after 12 hours of flying, he was a total loss. Josen leaned over and poked him with a grin. “Next time I do more flying. It’s not fair to hog it all,” he said. Mike had stayed at the controls except for a few brief trips around the aircraft to see how the others were doing. Since this plane had no hydraulic boosts for the controls, it was all done with muscle power, and 12 hours was a long time.

  “I’ll keep that in mind tomorrow,” Mike said weakly. His smile was tired but warm, and only broken when he caught a glimpse of Rokka climbing down the ladder from the engineer’s station. Even he looked stiff. But he had nursed those engines the whole way. “I’m getting too old to sit in one place such a long time,” he said stretching his back around. “Tomorrow I think I will let someone watch for a while,” he said.

  “Same here,” Mike said. “Maybe we should let him fly this thing,” Mike grinned at Josen.

  “We would end up wet,” Josen said slyly.

  Rokka grunted. “Too old to learn that either,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Mike swung out of his seat and went through the door into the next compartment with Rokka and Hadaie. “How far did we come?” he asked.

  “We had a tail wind helping us, that’s why we were able to make it to this base. We made nearly 1,500 miles today,” Hadaie said. “There’s only a thousand miles to go before we reach our destination. Since we will spend the night here, I can check the systems while you and the others get some sleep.”