Caitlin's hands settled over the controls of the Sikorsky. "Gimme guns," she muttered.
"Cait, String took out every gun within ten miles of Van der Berg's base last time," Roper protested.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," she rejoined. "Just humor me, okay?"
Reaching over, Roper brought the guns online, shrugging. "It's your show, Cait."
"Thanks," she retorted dryly. "You're all heart."
He shrugged, "I try."
She shot him a startled look, blue-green eyes wide.
He grinned unrepentantly.
Watching him, Cait felt her own lips twitch, even as she shook her head. Was this what Hawke would've been like if it weren't for losing Saint John all those years ago? Seeing Gabrielle die? Working for Michael? Abruptly her heart ached for him, for the loss of what might have been.
Fighting back tears she swallowed, shoving away the memories of the times she'd held him, caught in the throes of some leftover dream of Vietnam and the horrors suffered there, or a mission gone bad, his body shaking and quivering in her arms. The heartbreaking sobs wrenching her from sleep, threatening to drown him.
Eyeing radar with a jaundiced eye, Roper scowled. Cait was right. This was shaking up to be too easy. Surely, if Van der Berg had Airwolf, he'd have planned for them in case they'd come after it, sought revenge. He raised questioning blue eyes from the instruments to look at her.
He was stunned at the stark pain in her face, raw and agonized, it took his breath away.
"Cait, are you okay?" he demanded.
Snatched from the memories, Caitlin met Hawke's son's eyes. String had had enough taken from him in this life, there was no way Van der Berg would be taking any more.
"Cait?" he questioned.
"I'm fine," she whispered, meeting his eyes with her own blue-green ones. The pain slid away in a look of fierce determination. "Let's go get Hawke."
Struggling, Hawke fought the hands that held him, Van der Berg's words ringing in his ears. Shoving him along, Straczynski's fingers tightened on his arm, hauling him along in his wake.
Pulling back, Hawke slammed his shoulder into the man, knocking them both to the ground, rolling to avoid the well-aimed shot Katsulas fired in his direction.
The first bullet went wide, tearing into the corridor wall behind him, the second missed him be mere inches as he slammed an elbow into Straczynski's face. Grunting and gasping they wrestled for the gun, Straczynski's weight and superior strength evenly matched by Hawke's adrenaline fed fear and desperation.
Grabbing for the gun Hawke's hand closed around it, grasping it as he rolled and fired, catching Katsulas twice in the chest as he did so.
The other man stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down in a smear of blood.
The reprieve was short lived as Straczynski nailed him with a hard back fist to the face, bloodying his nose and gaining back control of the weapon.
Half-blinded by blood and pain, Hawke fought once more for the gun, feeling his strength ebb with each rasping breath.
The gun slammed down across his temple, catching him just above the injured eye, opening up a new cut and streaming down fresh blood. Questing fingers reached for the gun, their grasp slippery with blood, both Hawke's and Straczynski's. String's fingers closed around the butt of the weapon pulling back on the trigger…
And then it was all over, the heavier man's weight slumping over him and pinning him to the floor. Numbly, the gun fell from Hawke's fingers, clattering to the floor beside him as he fought to breathe, exhaustion seeping through his body as quickly as the adrenaline faded. Shoving with what seemed to be the last of his strength, he rolled the other man's body off of him knowing the battle had barely begun.
If he didn't get Airwolf off the ground, or the Haversham screen down, none of it would matter.
Michael Coldsmith Briggs III paced the floor of Red Star, the throbbing in his leg keeping pace with the pain in his head. He reached for the glass of whiskey on the corner of his desk, praying it'd take the edge off the pain long enough for him to oversee the securing of Red Star.
All the non-essential personnel had already been evacuated, leaving only those necessary to protect her files and the building itself. Unease ate at him, knowing it well might not be enough to stop Van der Berg and he might be consigning far too many good men and women to their deaths.
Breaches in security had been showing up all day. Breaches that appeared to have come from the top. Anxiety ate at him, as he realized they might've come from Thor… or himself.
There were far too many gaps in his memory in the last couple weeks. Intelligence that had somehow gotten by him when Marella disappeared and spots he simply couldn't remember after Hawke and Airwolf had gone down.
Now he was left to wonder, was it he didn't remember because he didn't want to, or couldn't? Had Thor's betrayal not been the only one? Just what had he given Van der Berg?
Snatching the amber-liquid off the corner of his desk, he swallowed a gulp, feeling the fiery liquid burn a trail down his throat. In almost the same instant, he impatiently slammed it back down to the desk, as he turned rosewood cane in hand to head down to Marella's office. They needed to talk. It seemed the day had come for the assistant deputy director to take over the deputy director's job. If he could no longer trust his own judgment, he'd have to trust hers.
Together, Seb and Rivers placed the cowling back on the gunship, the green-black armored plating gleaming dully in the dimming afternoon light.
Rivers swiped at an almost invisible piece of dust on the nose of the helicopter with a well-worn rag.
"You think it'll be enough?" Seb asked, not raising his eyes from the panel in front of him.
Mike didn't bother to ask what it'd be enough for. There was only one thing on both of their minds at this point. "Don't know," he muttered succinctly. "Gotta try anyway."
Seb heaved a sigh, knowing he was right.
The silence stretched tight and uncomfortable between them, awkward as their friendship had become. Abruptly, Seb decided he'd had enough. If he was going to be facing dying today, he was going to do it with a clear conscience.
He tossed his grease rag to the hanger floor, as he turned to face Mike. "I owe you an apology," he began.
Rivers looked up, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah, I suppose you do," he retorted.
Non-plussed, Seb grimaced. "You're not making this very easy, Mike," he grumbled.
"No, I suppose not," the blonde grinned, amusement lighting his eyes for the first time in days.
Raking an exasperated hand through his hair, Seb huffed in frustration.
This time, Rivers' grin broke through. "Forget it, Seb," he laughed. "You're no better at it than String. I know you didn't mean it."
"But…" he tried one last time.
Mike's hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Forget it, Seb. I mean it. I have. I know I was pushing you pretty hard. And your back's up against the wall. I just wish there was some other way."
Frowning, Seb nodded. "Well, just so as you know."
Rivers met his eyes. "I know, Seb. We're good."
Reaching down, he picked up his helmet. "Have you spoke to Jade?" he asked quietly.
Seb shook his head. "No, not yet."
Rivers hesitated, knowing he might be stepping on the younger man's toes, but after the last couple weeks he just couldn't let it go. "You know you need to, Seb."
The younger Hawke looked up at him, even as he fiddled with his flight gear. "Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I really botched that one up, huh?"
"Yeah, you did," Rivers agreed bluntly. "That's why it's up to you to fix it."
Overhead the claxion perimeter alarms started blaring, screaming their warning.
Shoving the helmet home, he leveled a steady blue glare at Seb. "And you might want to start making it a priority."
Anything on the monitors?" Cait asked tensely, eyeing the desolate landscape below.
Roper checked over the radar and instruments. "Nothing, Cait," he answered. He couldn't say what it was, but he was beginning to get a creeped out feeling himself. It was too easy, even considering the havoc Hawke had reaped. Either he'd reaped a more killing blow than all of them believed, or…
"It's a trap, Cait!" he yelled. "Get out, get out now!"
Startled, she swung the Sikorsky hard, banking and pointing her nose first back towards home.
Out of nowhere, just beyond the ridgeline four AH-64 Apache helicopters rose, armed to the teeth and loaded for bear.
Beside her, Roper bit off a curse. "We've got a problem, Cait," he rasped hoarsely.
"What, you think I can't see that?" she demanded, snapping back. Banking hard, she swung the Sikorsky back the way they'd just come.
"I thought we just decided that was a trap," Roper grated as he eyed the terrain flying by below. "What're you doing? Running?" he demanded.
"You got a better idea?" she retorted.
The furthermost helicopter swung after them in pursuit.
"No," he admitted, cringing as she swerved avoiding a sidewinder missile. It fell short, but it was obvious the distance between them was closing. "They're gaining!"
"I can see that," she muttered tersely. A rocky slope opened up before them, boulder strewn and barren.
Grabbing the stick, Cait swung the helicopter hard right, banking, and then swerving left. She shoved the throttle forward, sweeping the helicopter forward in nap of the earth flight.
"Watch it, Cait!" Roper warned. "We won't be any better off if you rack her up on the rocks below.
Rotors clearing the rocky overhang just barely, Cait grimaced at the strain in her arm as she fought to keep the helicopter in the air, swinging the tail hard left.
The Sikorsky swung on its own axis, her guns abruptly coming into range. Biding her time, Cait waited.
"They're almost on us," Roper warned, eyeing the quickly closing distance on radar uneasily.
Eyes on the sky above Cait said nothing, flaring the helicopter's nose and climbing abruptly. Hitting the trigger, she loosed a couple of Hellfire missiles.
The first hit the lead Apache as it came around the mountainside. The second went wide as the second helicopter swerved to avoid the explosion consuming the downed attack helicopter.
Thumb hitting the guns, she opened fire. Machine gun rounds piercing the body plating, the Sikorsky chewed into her fuselage taking out the onboard fuel tanks.
The explosion rocked the aircraft, and Cait turned tail.
