Landing the helicopter with a gentle flare Roper looked over at Seb. "You know I'd feel a lot better about how I was doing if you didn't look like you were praying every time I landed."
Blond-haired Seb gave an abashed grin. "Nothing personal. I just like me the way I am - in one piece."
"Gee, thanks."
"Not a problem," Seb grinned. He reached into the front storage compartment and pulled out String's Walther PPK. Sliding it into his jacket pocket, he asked, "Ready to meet our buyers?"
Checking the magazine in his own Beretta, Roper nodded. "Let's go make a deal."
Two men stepped out from the hanger ahead of them, both wearing gray suits. Besides them, two more men stepped out - carrying automatic rifles.
"Great," Seb muttered sarcastically, eyeing the guns.
If Roper shared his unease, he showed no sign of it. "Gentlemen!" he called out, "I think we have business to discuss." The wind whipped across the tarmac, rifling the short coffee-colored strands of his hair as he greeted them. Blinking against the wind-borne sand he squinted. "Shall we get started?"
"Did you bring the data?" the older heavier-set man demanded his gun and his scowl meaning business.
In response, roper hefted the case in his hand, before laying it carefully down on the car trunk in front of him. With a flourish, he snapped it open. Technical data printouts and diagrams fluttered in the wind, even as the flash drive skittered across the pages.
Eagerly, the swarthy man reached for the drive.
"Unh, unh, unh," Roper admonished snapping the case shut. "Where's the money?"
The heavy-set man motioned behind him. "Pay the man Assad."
The click of rifles aiming, sent Roper lunging for Seb driving him to the ground. Bullets slammed into the concrete next to him, even as he raised his gun firing back.
In the air, a keening howl arose, the wind whipping madly about them. Assad and his pal staggered back, choosing to fire their automatic rifles at the hovering black merchant of death, rather than at the two men crouched on the ground in front of them.
"Let's go!" Seb yelled, grabbing Roper by the collar and dragging him to his feet. Ducking the hail of gunfire, the two men ran for the hanger and cover.
Chewing up the ground in front of her with 30mm chain guns, Airwolf swooped through. Swerving, she banked for another pass.
"Hawke, we've got a Hughes 500 taking off. Make that two," Caitlin's voice cut in through the helmet, insistent. "They're armed for bear."
"Where?" he demanded.
"Coming in from the north. Bearing 230."
Abruptly, he turned the helicopter on her own axis, calling for a sidewinder as he did so.
Climbing into the air, the second Hughes rained machine gun fire at them, thudding into the Lady's armor-plated hide even as Hawke banked hard left to avoid incoming missile fire from the first helicopter.
"On your six," Caitlin warned.
Snatching back the stick with more power than finesse, String forced Airwolf into a climb that threatened to stall her engines before finally leveling out. Once there he threw her into a 360 degree Aileron roll spiraling like a falcon for prey as he dove at the heavily armed Hughes. Dropping the visor, he aimed a sidewinder at it. Flames from the explosion rolled out reaching for Airwolf even as she dodged flying debris and the heat roiled and curled around her.
Running infrared on the ground Cait sucked in a worried breath. "Hawke," she cried, "They're pinned down."
"Any way out?" he questioned tersely.
"Not that I see."
Hawke rolled the helicopter into a steep right bank, just barely avoiding a shot from the incoming Hughes. "Gimme cannons, Cait."
"Done," she replied hitting the button.
Looping up and over, Hawke swung Airwolf in behind the other chopper. Levering his thumb on the trigger he fired, slamming the 40 mm cannons into the tail boom and fuselage of the Hughes. Smoking it crashed into the ground below, flames licking at it.
Swinging back to the edge of the tarmac nearest the hanger, Hawke flared Airwolf's nose extending the landing gear. "Stay here, Cait," he ordered. "Run surveillance, and keep monitoring audio. We may need you for extraction, at the very least I'll probably need you to cover me.
"Will do," she said bringing the requested systems online.
Dropping out of the helicopter, .45 drawn Hawke headed for the hanger in a crouching run. Sidling up to the door, he slammed a booted heel into it, kicking it open. Pausing he ducked back, before swinging into the opening gun in hand.
Shots rang out in the back of the building. Running, Hawke headed for cover, placing helicopters and equipment between him and a clear shot as he made his way to the back. Squatting, he dropped down behind a crate hoping to get a view of his brother and Roper.
"Drop it!" a voice rang out. Adrenaline surging through his veins, Hawke froze with his heart in his throat before logic kicked in and he realized it was directed at the other two. Not great, but at least he was still in the game.
The swarthy man from earlier stood with gun aimed at Seb and Roper's chests. Assad slipped in from behind, shoving his gun up against Seb's head. Instinctively he raised his hands, the Walther clattering to the ground by his feet.
"Now!" The command came again. "Or I kill your friend where he stands!"
Roper cast an angry glare at Assad before tossing the Beretta to the floor in front of him.
"Good, good," the other man chuckled. "Perhaps I won't have to kill you just yet."
Roper heaved in a heavy breath.
"Come on, come on," Assad snarled. "I haven't got all day."
Roper and Seb turned, lacing their fingers behind their heads as they did so. Gesturing with the gun, Assad directed them towards the door and the tarmac outside.
Stealthily Hawke closed the distance between them, dogging the swarthy man's steps in front of him.
Ahead, Assad stepped through the door, turning his head slightly as he did so. Immediately in his peripheral vision he caught Hawke's movement. "Santos!" he yelled, "Look out!"
Caught off guard, Hawke lunged towards towards the crates. He hit the deck hard, sliding as he did so. A bullet slammed into the floor beside him. Rolling to his back he fired back, pulling the trigger squeezing off a round. His shot went wide.
Beside him, a bullet tore into the crate spraying splinters everywhere. A second shot caught him in the arm. A cry ripping from his throat, String clamped his other hand over the wound, blood oozing between his fingers. Fighting a rolling wave of nausea, he crawled deeper behind the crates and hopefully out of range.
Struggling to his knees, he hunkered down next to the crate propping his gun hand against the shattered wood. Several more shots pounded into the wood as he heard running footsteps and yelling from the doorway.
Seeing his shot, he took it, nailing Santos. In cold satisfaction he watched the man fall even as he got to his feet to go after the others. Making a break for it, he ran after Assad and the men with him. Bending, he snatched up his Walther and Roper's Beretta shoving them into his belt. Clamping his injured arm against his side, he charged after them, each jolt bringing a new throb of agony from his already screaming arm.
Catching up, he levered off another couple rounds at Assad. Seb making the most of the distraction, turned and slammed a fist into Assad's face. Blocking the other's punch, he shoved Roper ahead of him towards safety.
Hawke tried for one last shot. To his chagrin, he found the chamber of the .45 empty. Cursing he slammed the empty clip out, fumbling one handed for a new clip. Shoving it home, he ran after them.
Flinging the hanger door open, he spotted Airwolf hovering just feet off the tarmac as Seb and Roper raced towards her. Assad was drawing down on them even as he watched.
"Seb!" he yelled, aiming his own gun even as he knew it was too late. Roper turned as he ran and spotted Assad. Putting on a burst of speed, he lunged for Seb, slamming him to the asphalt even as two shots rang out.
Stunned, Hawke just stood there. Seb was down, Roper on top of him and Assad lay bleeding on the ground in front of him. Airwolf hovered only yards away her downwash sweeping the tarmac, the rotors making a ghostly droning noise.
Assad stirred, rolling to his side surreptitiously reaching for his gun. Oblivious and in shock, Hawke staggered towards the two downed men. Caitlin still in Airwolf watched in horror as he raised the gun, Hawke in his line of fire.
Pulling up on the collective and pushing the cyclic forward she swung the helicopter around, even as she screamed Hawke's name. Catching the movement in his peripheral vision String turned automatically, emptying the clip of the .45 in Assad's direction. In the same instant, the Lady completed her swing and the chain guns blazed, chewing up the pavement and slamming into Assad and the hanger. Cringing Hawke hit the ground, his arms instinctively covering his head.
Landing gear out now, Airwolf settled to earth heavily, her rotors making a trilling sound. Rolling to his knees painfully, sense slammed into Hawke and he pushed up with his good arm, gaining his feet.
Running he made for Seb and Roper. Getting there he saw the pool of blood beneath them, and nearly sobbed aloud. Falling to the ground beside them, he dropped his gun from suddenly nerveless finger, reaching to check for a pulse.
Even as he reached, Seb groaned, pushing at Roper's body on top of his. His vision swam and his head pounded. He fought dry heaves as nausea rolled over him with the pain.
Finding he could breath again after all, Hawke drug in a breath to his oxygen starved lungs as he carefully rolled Roper's body off Seb. Rolling him, Hawke knew immediately which one had taken the bullet. Blood seeped from a wound in his chest and his face was ashen beneath new scrapes. His eyes fluttered open even as Hawke touched him.
"Ungh-hh," he groaned, doubling up in pain, his breathing immediately labored as he regained consciousness.
Caitlin slid to a halt beside Hawke, the first aid kit from Airwolf in her hands. Hands frantic, she tore into it ripping open gauze and handing it to Hawke.
"Did we get them?" Roper whispered, his eyes on Hawke, the pupils huge and dilated with pain.
"Yeah," Hawke muttered, feeling like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. "We got them."
"Good," he replied his voice thready, as he fought for consciousness. "Seb okay?"
Hawke glanced Seb groaning on the ground and hoped so. "Yeah, he'll be okay."
Roper nodded just barely. "Sorry about the trouble I brought you," he whispered, hanging on tight to String's arm.
"No, trouble…" Hawke struggled to answer past the lump in his throat. Even as he got the words out, Roper's eyes rolled back and he went limp in his arms.
Sorrow choking her, Cait got to her feet to crouch over by Seb, whispering soft words of encouragement as he huddled on his knees, his head in his hands.
In anguish, Hawke grabbed the younger man's shirt pulling him towards him, his head lolling. "God, no!" he sobbed. "Please don't let him die, don't let my son die!" Crying he bowed his head over the younger man, his hand desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood, sticky and red through his fingers. "Lord, please no," he cried, the words a desperate prayer on his lips.
Caitlin bit her lip, bitter tears sliding down her own cheeks.
Abruptly, Roper drew a hug shuddering breath snapping back to consciousness. Dark blue eyes so like String's flared open. Pain-filled but clear. Sure that this was it, String watched in astonishment as his breathing evened out.
"Oh God, thank you," he whispered nearly collapsing in relief. Hope rushed through him and threatened to overwhelm him. Shaking hands grabbed the gauze, pressing it against the bullet wound, expertly taping it in place. "You hanging in , okay?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion.
Roper nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes on Hawke.
"This is gonna hurt," Hawke warned apologetically.
"I know," Roper returned wryly. "Get on with it."
Nodding, Hawke swallowed. Kneeling he drug him up by his shirtfront, razors of pain running up his own arm. Carefully he crouched and put him over his shoulder.
By the time he made it staggering to Airwolf, both men were breathing hard and Roper's wound had opened up and started to bleed again. Feeling a little light-headed himself, String worked to get Roper's wound packed again.
Weakly he grabbed String's arm. "Where's Seb?" he asked worriedly. Hawke shook his head, focusing on re-bandaging Roper's wound.
"String," Roper tried again. "You've got to help Cait. We need to get out of here.
"Yeah," Hawke conceded wearily. "You're right." Pushing off with his good arm, he gained his feet. Unsteady steps took him over to where Caitlin struggled to help Seb to his feet. "You okay, bro?" he said, sliding his good arm under his shoulder.
Woozily, Seb tried to get his feet under him. "String?" he asked, trying to focus blearily on Hawke.
Cait wrapped an arm around his waist dragging him upright. "I think he's got a concussion," she said meeting Hawke's eyes worriedly over Seb's bowed head. "He's awfully out of it."
"Great," Hawke muttered. "At the rate we're going, there's going to be no one left to fly Airwolf out of here."
Half-dragging Seb, they made their way slowly towards where Airwolf crouched on the tarmac.
"You'll have to pull him up," Hawke gasped leaning heavily against the helicopter's ebony skin.
Concerned, Cait looked at string doing a double take at the pallor under his tan. Anxious eyes traveled over him, lighting at the bloody sleeve of his flight suit. "You're hit aren't you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"I'm fine," Hawke denied. We need to get Seb aboard and Roper to a hospital."
"You are hit," she said with certainty, reaching for him.
"Not now, Cait," he said shrugging her off. "I said I was fine. We've got to go. They need help you and I can't give them."
Knowing he was right, she reached down under Seb's arms and pulled as Hawke lifted his lower body into the helicopter. Obviously faltering now, he struggled in after him. Painfully, he crawled over to check on Roper who was by now trailing in and out of consciousness.
"Go ahead and take the stick," he told Caitlin.
Startled hazel eyes stared at him. "You want me to fly?" she asked in surprise.
"I'll run engineering," Hawke assured her. "Just make sure whatever you do, you take out that hanger. We can't risk another copy of the electro-thermal chemical data showing up and them selling it to the highest bidder. I for sure don't want to do this again."
Cait nodded, scrambling into the pilot's seat. Glancing back over her shoulder, she called out, "Ready?" to Hawke, even as her left hand rested on the collective.
"Ready," he replied the voice steady, if a little weak.
The ghostly drone increased as the Lady rose into the air, rotors biting and lifting. Nose down she swung towards the hanger.
"Give me a hellfire."
"Hellfire," Hawke punched it up. The missile tore away, slamming into the side of the hanger ahead. Flaming debris rained down, slamming to the ground below.
"Copperhead."
"You got it."
Firing twin shots, Cait aimed at what had been left of the burning building. Dual explosions ripped through it, igniting the last of the hanger. Airwolf swung over it, her rotors swirling the smoke in giant curls beneath her.
"Turbos," she called.
Reaching for the lever, Hawke hesitated hoping he wasn't signing Roper's death warrant. Would his already damaged body be able to take the trauma of the additional G-forces? If they didn't get help fast though, he'd bleed out though. Screwed if you do, screwed if you don't, he thought grimly.
"Hawke?" Cait questioned when he didn't respond.
"Turbos," he said shoving the lever into place. "God help him," he prayed, hoping he'd made the right decision. Airwolf bolted across the sky in the direction of Red Star.
Reaching overhead, Caitlin punched in a series of buttons connecting her to Red Star. Momentarily, the communications alarm sounded. Hitting a switch, she responded. "Michael?"
"Good to hear from you, Cait," he replied. "I trust all went well."
"More or less," she answered wearily. "We got the data, and the threat has been eliminated."
"I see," Michael responded, stroking his mustache. "Everything else okay?"
"I need a doctor on standby," Hawke cut in. "Ropers been hit. You might want to pull up his blood type - he may need a transfusion, he's lost a lot of blood."
"On it," Michael responded immediately, reaching to cut off communication.
"Michael?" Hawke stopped him.
"Yes?" Michael answered, gesturing to Marella in the background.
"Get a couple more beds ready, while you're at it."
"Wha - ?" he began.
Hawke punched the button.