Earth and Fire

by Janet Edwards

  Chapter Fifteen

  I had the luxury of a proper bed and a whole room to myself during the rest break, while others slept in sleep sacks on the crowded floors of hastily erected mobile domes. Gradin laughed at my embarrassment, telling me a single pilot in the air was more important to the defence of Athens than dozens of people fire fighting on the ground, so it was vital pilots had the chance to sleep properly.

  He was perfectly right, except for one key fact. I wasn’t a pilot, just a clueless kid operating the scoop controls. That might make Gradin’s life a bit simpler, but it certainly wasn’t a crucial contribution because most of the pilots here were flying solo and operating the scoops themselves. I felt I didn’t deserve special treatment, and I said so, but Gradin just yawned, told me to shut up, and walked off to his own room.

  So I slept in undeserved luxury, dreaming I was flying a fire plane above a forest fire that wasn’t threatening Athens but my Next Step. Everyone had evacuated, but I had to save the building because Issette had left Whoopiz the Zen in her room. To add to the weirdness, the rest of the settlement had vanished, and our Next Step was standing alone in an immense forest. I was trying to find the sea so I could fill the scoops with water, but there was nothing but endless trees below me. I was still frantically searching when the alarm on my lookup jerked me awake with a start.

  I showered, checked the pile of cartons someone had left in my room, drank some frujit and ate half a helping of Osiris mash, then struggled back into my impact suit. Once outside, I paused to look at the horizon. Was the fire burning a little less fiercely, or did it just seem that way because it was daylight?

  I found our plane, but Gradin wasn’t there yet. I put on my hover tunic and climbed into my seat. Still no sign of Gradin. I hesitated, then entered my pilot code and started running the diagnostics and power checks.

  Gradin arrived a couple of minutes later, his suit already sealed. He shrugged his way into his hover tunic, glanced at the flashing lights on the control panel, and gave a grunt that seemed to indicate approval, before climbing into the plane and settling down into his seat with a groan.

  “Here we go again. Check your hover tunic. Set your comms. Abandon your sanity.”

  I gave a startled giggle, and he groaned again.

  “No giggling. Definitely no giggling.” He tapped his comms controls and spoke on the Air Control channel. “This is New York. We need at least three more hours’ sleep but we are, reluctantly, ready to launch.”

  “This is Air Control,” said a female voice. “I haven’t slept at all in over twenty-four hours, Gradin, and I’m not grumbling.”

  “This is New York. You’re ten years younger than me, Valeska.”

  “This is Air Control. Sydney, please complete this circuit and head in to land. New York will then stop complaining, launch, and take over your spot.”

  Gradin set his comms to speak on the private channel with me again. “Thirty years ago, Valeska and I were together in Shanghai. A solar storm brought down the Earth portal network and stranded us in a dig site dome for three days. Unfortunately, there were twenty other people there as well, and she ended up marrying one of them. It was a lucky escape. For her, if not for me.”

  I didn’t reply, just sat there in cautious silence during the take-off, wondering if it was really Gradin inside that suit or a stranger. He seemed much less sarcastic than usual, almost friendly.

  He waited until we’d taken up our position in the circuit and filled the scoops with seawater before speaking again. “You’re still here then.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t run away in the rest break.”

  I was grazzed. “Of course not. Did you think I would?”

  “It seemed possible. You were scared yesterday, and you’d already run away once after scratching my plane.”

  I winced at the reminder.

  “I brought you to Athens to see if you’d make a real pilot or not.” Gradin laughed. “A trial by fire. You did pretty well. You didn’t run away during the rest break. You’re back for more today. That means I’m taking you seriously now. I’ll fly the next three circuits, and then we’ll swap over. You can fly for a bit while I take over scoops.”

  I gulped. “Me? Fly? Here?”

  “Yes. I just said I’m taking you seriously now. It’s obvious most pilots you’ve flown with have taken the lazy option. They’ve done the take-off and landing themselves to avoid putting in too much effort teaching you, and then sat back and relaxed while you did the boring work of flying their dig site survey legs for them. The end result is you’re still a novice on landings, but you’re a perfectly competent pilot in midair.”

  “Yes, but …”

  “But what?” asked Gradin. “Even if you stay an amateur pilot rather than a professional, you’ll probably end up helping with something like this eventually. Better to get some experience of it here with me, rather than come back in a year or two and try it for the first time solo.”

  He was right. If I was ever going to do this, it made sense to do it now. The only argument against it was to say I wasn’t the sort of pilot who’d ever do it. To say I was the sort of pilot who enjoyed flying surveys over a dig site on a sunny day, but would let Athens burn without lifting a finger to save it.

  Gradin wouldn’t think much of me if I said that. More importantly, I wouldn’t think much of me either, so I kept quiet and tensely studied every move Gradin made for the next few circuits. After we’d dumped the third lot of water, he spoke on the Air Control channel.

  “This is New York pilot handing control to co-pilot.”

  I hit the unlock switch for the co-pilot controls, moistened my lips, and spoke on Air Control myself. “This is New York co-pilot, Jarra Reeath. I have control.”

  “This is Air Control,” said Valeska’s voice. “Noting that with interest.”

  I switched my comms back to the private channel and concentrated on the flying. This was far harder than flying a survey plane over a dig site. Things were bumpy with the heat from the fire, the strength of the wind, and the scoops dragging beneath the plane. I was also painfully aware I had to keep precisely in position because I was sharing the sky with nine other planes.

  “When we’re over the sea, I’ll talk you through the speed and height changes,” said Gradin. “Filling the scoops is a lot easier in daylight than at night.”

  I grunted an acknowledgement, my eyes torn between the view ahead and the main display of the control panel.

  “We’re approaching the coast,” said Gradin. “Start losing height.”

  I dipped the nose of the plane as I flew on towards the sea, crossed the coastline, and looked down at the waves below.

  “Ease off the thrusters now. Imagine you’re coming into land.” Gradin paused for a moment. “Lose a little more height, and … That’s it. Keep this height, slow to stalling speed, then transition to hovers but keep the thrusters running on minimum as well. Rather like your crash landing.”

  Why did he have to remind me of that? I held back an angry response, concentrating on balancing thrusters and hovers.

  “Scoops in three, two, one, now!” said Gradin.

  I felt the jerk as the scoops entered the water, increased hovers, and found I needed to increase thrusters a fraction as well.

  A few seconds later, Gradin spoke again. “Scoops are full and out of the water. Climb for height now and then cut hovers. The plane feels sluggish, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” I gasped out the single word.

  “You did that well,” said Gradin, “but next time please remember you’re allowed to breathe.”

  I gulped in air and giggled.

  “But not allowed to giggle,” he added. “Now, dumping the water is much simpler. You just slow and lose a bit of height to make sure you hit the target. The fire beneath you can be distracting but you have to learn to ignore it.”

  Minutes later, I was trying to ignore the flames beneath me. They somehow seemed much h
igher and brighter now I was flying the plane.

  Gradin was giving me directions again. “The display countdown has started, so that’s your cue to start losing speed and height. Remember to breathe this time. Just a little lower and … three, two, one, now!”

  The plane responded to losing the dead weight of water by bouncing upwards. Up was good. Up was away from those flames. I climbed for a bit more height and flew on in the circuit of planes, gradually curving my way round to fly back towards the sea. My jangling nerves relaxed. Gradin would take control now.

  “That went quite well,” said Gradin. “You can fly a few more circuits for me.”

  Chaos! How many circuits did he mean when he said a few more? Two or three? I considered asking, but decided it wouldn’t make things any easier. I flew on for the next circuit, another, and six circuits later I was blinking sweat out of my eyes and still flying. Gradin had stopped talking me through every move by now, just throwing in the occasional comment on speed and height.

  We’d picked up water and were heading inland towards the fire, when Gradin suddenly leaned forward in his seat and whistled. There was a jet of flame shooting up from the fire where a power storage unit had exploded. The plane ahead of us in the circuit, Paris Coeur, was rocketing skywards on full thrusters to get clear.

  Gradin gave a grunt and relaxed back into his seat again. “Keep an eye on the main display, Jarra. The explosion should have died down before we reach it, but I expect Air Control will play safe and divert us round it anyway.”

  Gradin was right. The white line of our course on the main display changed to send us on a gentle curve round where the power cell had exploded. I was banking to the left when I heard a woman’s urgent voice on Air Control channel.

  “This is Paris Coeur breaking circuit, breaking circuit! Thrusters are overheating, must have been hit by some debris from the …”

  Paris Coeur was breaking circuit, changing course for an emergency landing! One of the seemingly pointless rules I’d learned for my theory test wasn’t pointless at all. Paris Coeur had total priority now. Other aircraft should take evasive action to avoid a collision. Other aircraft included me!

  I looked ahead, anxiously watching Paris Coeur, and saw the aircraft altering course to head towards Athens. If I …

  The plane ahead seemed to falter, tipped sideways, and dived at a sickeningly steep angle towards the ground, smoke trailing behind it.

  “Nuking hell!” Gradin’s voice shouted in my ear. “She’s on fire! Get out, get out, get out, get …”

  He broke off as something small fell clear of the plane, tumbling downwards at speed for a few seconds before slowing. The pilot’s hover tunic had cut in to break her fall.

  “She’s jumped,” said Gradin. “Jarra, pay attention!”

  Chaos take it, I couldn’t be paying more attention than this!

  “That pilot’s going to land in the heart of the fire. Her impact suit won’t take that level of heat for long. We have to try and pick her up with our scoops.”

  We had to what? I opened my mouth but no words came out.

  Gradin was still talking. “I’ll work scoops. You’re flying. We dump water right on top of the pilot, turn, and come back positioned as if we’re filling the scoops. I’ll talk you through exactly what to do.”

  He paused for a second. “Jarra, do you understand? Talk to me! Are you going to help me with this, or are you freezing up on me?”

  I forced myself to speak. “I’m helping. Shouldn’t you be flying though?”

  “No! It needs an expert on the scoops to have any chance of this working.”

  There’d been dead silence on the Air Control channel, but now Valeska started talking. “This is Air Control. Paris Coeur is down. Paris Coeur, respond please.”

  There was no answer. The falling figure had just hit the ground. Their impact suit would have triggered hard to protect them, and they’d probably blacked out for a few seconds.

  Valeska was calling Paris Coeur again when Gradin interrupted her. “This is New York. We’re coming in to try a pickup with scoops. Paris Coeur, are you awake yet?”

  “This is Paris Coeur,” said a dazed female voice.

  “This is New York. We’ll dump water on you, then come back. When the scoops touch, you jump in and yell.”

  Another female voice joined the conversation. “This is London. If you don’t make it first try, New York, bank away to the right. I’m coming in behind you and I’ll dump water to keep things under control. You can come round to follow me in for a second attempt. I’m flying solo so I can’t try this myself.”

  “This is Air Control. New York, your target is set to Paris Coeur suit location. All other planes ignore targets and stand by to assist New York with water drops.”

  I looked at the blue cross on my screen, and altered course slightly to head straight for it. I heard Gradin speaking again, back on our private channel now.

  “This is just like a standard water drop, Jarra, but you’re going to bank round immediately afterwards and come back as if you’re picking up water from the ocean. You’re doing the flying, because I know you can handle that. I’ve seen you do it.”

  I didn’t reply. The blue countdown had started and I was totally focused on my approach to my target.

  “You have to come in a fraction lower and slower than usual. We need to drop this water perfectly on target,” said Gradin.

  I lost a bit more height, slowed, and felt the aircraft jerk upwards as the water fell.

  “Turn hard right,” said Gradin.

  I was already turning, coming round, watching the main display rather than trying to see where I was through the drifting smoke. I lined myself up for the approach, glanced ahead, and saw an area without flames. I came in low over it, slowed to stalling point, and engaged hovers. Gradin wasn’t saying anything, which I hoped meant I was in the right place. A gust of wind caught the plane, and I fought to keep it still. Chaos, what was happening? I didn’t dare to take my eyes off my control panel.

  “Nuke it, we’ve missed her,” said Gradin. “Climb for height, and bank right. We’ll let London drop water and then try again.”

  I hit the thrusters, and banked right, losing all sense of direction as I flew through smoke. As I came out of it, I caught a glimpse of another aircraft. That had to be London, so I turned to follow it and saw its trail of water rain down on the fire.

  “Here we go again,” said Gradin. “Last time I lowered scoops to maximum but they were still too high. I need you to go a bit lower this time.”

  Lower? If I went any lower than last time, I’d be underground! I held my breath as I lined up for my target, lost height, and did the balancing act between thrusters and hovers again. How close was I getting to the flames? If they so much as touched a wingtip …

  A voice screamed on broadcast channel. “In!”

  “Up!” Gradin’s shout came a split second later.

  I hit the thrusters and pulled back on the stick, climbing hard. Had we got the Paris Coeur pilot or not? The plane didn’t feel sluggish, but a pilot would weigh much less than a full load of water.

  “This is New York. Paris Coeur, how are you?” Gradin asked on Air Control channel.

  “This is Paris Coeur. You’ve got my right leg trapped in the scoop jaws, but my suit’s triggered to protect me. Suit seems to have survived the fire but my hover tunic is just cinders.”

  “This is Air Control. Paris Coeur, telemetry from your suit is green except for your right leg which shows solid amber.”

  “This is New York. Breaking circuit and heading for Athens.”

  I heard Gradin’s words and turned for Athens. We’d picked up the pilot, but now a new problem occurred to me. How did we get her down? We couldn’t just drop her over Athens without a working hover tunic. We couldn’t land with scoops out. If we dropped her in the sea, her heavy impact suit would sink like a stone, so …?

  I didn’t need to ask the question because Gradin was
still talking on Air Control channel. “Paris Coeur’s suit has been through a lot of heat and two triggers in fast succession. It may not survive the stress from the scoop jaws for too long, so I suggest we use a mobile dome instead of waiting for people to set up foam.”

  We were going to use a mobile dome? To do what exactly?

  “This is Paris Coeur. Sounds good to me.”

  “This is Air Control. We have some mobile domes set up as sleeping quarters. The one to the west is clear of other buildings, so we’re evacuating that for you.”

  Gradin swapped from Air Control to our private channel. “Jarra, you see the western mobile dome, the one on its own?”

  I could see a huddle of three small, grey flexiplas domes, but not one on its own. I started to say so, then spotted the solo dome beyond them. Several figures were running clear of it. “Yes, I see it.”

  “We’re going to use that as a nice soft landing area for the Paris Coeur pilot. She’ll bounce on the thin flexiplas roof and slide off to the ground. Start losing height now.”

  Would this really work? Everyone seemed convinced it would but … I shook my head, dipped the nose of the plane, and turned to line up with the mobile dome.

  “A bit lower,” said Gradin. “That’s it, now keep your height and speed constant for me.”

  I was concentrating so hard on staying level, that I didn’t see the movement of Gradin’s hand as he opened the scoops, or realize the slight lurch of the plane was us losing the weight of the pilot. I just heard the voice on Air Control channel.

  “This is Paris Coeur. Safely down, thank you everyone. Anyone got a spare fire plane I could borrow?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two days later, I was standing among a crowd of strangers in impact suits. Hoods down, faces lifted to the sky, we were laughing, glorying in the pouring rain. The hot dry weather had broken at last, and nature had casually extinguished the fire we’d been fighting for what seemed like an eternity.

  I felt someone tap my arm and turned to see Gradin, his sandy hair drenched with water and clinging tightly to his head.