CHAPTER 11

By the time Airwolf had landed on the roof of the building next to the warehouse, Hawke and Caitlin were already making their way towards them.

Dom started to move out of the way when Hawke made clear his intentions to take up his usual position as pilot until he saw the condition his younger friend was in.

"She said you might be grazed," Dom objected, "not that you were likely to bleed to death if we don't get you some help within five minutes."

"I'll be okay," Hawke replied, fighting down a wave of nausea. So maybe flying wasn't the greatest idea, but he'd rather take post as pilot and be able to control their flight himself instead of being in the back with someone fussing over him the whole time and having to ask for every correction to make the ride as easy on him as possible, and making his every weakness known to all the occupants of the cockpit.

"Sure you will, String."

"You did say you'd behave and let me bandage you up once we got back to Airwolf," Caitlin added, "wouldn't want to get blood all over the cockpit, would we? Talk about a mess to clean up."

"Let him."

All eyes darted to the jump seat in the back where Lexa had remained quiet until now.

"If he wants to fly so badly, let him. Someone will have to sit in the co-pilot's seat anyway; they can take over if he has any problems."

String didn't know whether to be grateful of wary. Was she actually on his side, or was this merely an attempt to prove his weaknesses? One thing was for sure, if he did win this argument, he wouldn't be found passed out in the pilot's seat, he simply wouldn't.

\A/

"You still doing okay up there, String?" Dominic asked, feeling a somewhat sudden change in the aircraft's flight.

"Fine," he lied. In all actuality he knew he was anything but it. Forget his pride and strength, passing out sounded heavenly at the moment, but instead he didn't think he'd be able to if he tried. He was forced to remain in agonizingly uncomfortable and painful consciousness.

It would only be a few hours, he kept trying to console himself, and if he could manage a little extra speed without tossing his cookies, a little less time still, but they couldn't be home soon enough.

"Uh-oh. We've got company, String," Dom warned from behind the engineer's console. "Looks like the Russian air force has finally caught up."

His already aching insides rebelled at even the thought of taking on a sandwich at the moment, much less the whole Soviet airborne military.

"Are you up to it?" Caitlin asked, not needing to his grimace to know the pain he was in. His rewrapped midsection already had new blood stains that had soaked through, indicating the bleeding hadn't stopped if even slowed, and she knew that couldn't be a good sign.

"Better be," he muttered, "otherwise I don't have any business being in the pilot's seat."

Was that a rebuttal at her questioning him, or self doubt? Telling himself he didn't deserve the position he had taken? She hoped it was the first, for all their sakes.

"Couple of MiG's and a Hind following them in."

MiG's and a Hind. It just wasn't his day. Why did they have to send him a Hind today?

Airwolf was aesthetically pleasing, but deadly and shark-like all the same, yet she had nothing on a Hind. It's bulky nose may not be as nice as her sleek one, nor its winglets as streamlined, but they housed a whole armory underneath them, having AGS-17 gun pods, S-5 rocket launchers, S-24 240mm rockets, and 9M17 Phalangas not uncommon. Airwolf had speed on him, and hopefully pilot experience, talent, and a whole lot of luck on her side; otherwise they were toast, burnt toast.

"The MiG's are closing fast, the first one coming into missile range at five o'clock."

"Wasn't quite what I had in mind for five o'clock somewhere."

"No margaritas and beach babes for you," Lexa retorted, " never took you for that type much anyway though so you shouldn't mind much."

"I might be that type if it's instead of fighting off the Russian air force."

"Not even close, buddy. I'm sure it's not like you haven't taken out a Hind or two in your day, and this big bird is pretty well suited for that kind of thing."

"My day isn't over, and Hinds aren't exactly hovering in a line waiting for me to shoot them out of the sky."

"If Moffet did get this thing up to specs then you should at least be able to turn tail and run if you get tired of playing tag with the Russians."

"They've got a rocket off," Caitlin warned, interrupting their repartee. "It's a Phalanga, radio controlled."

He didn't like the idea of having to try and loose it, but it looked like he wasn't getting any choice in the matter.

Banking a hard right, his stomach rolling as he did so, the missile followed.

"Still after us," Dom warned. "Impact in five seconds."

Whipping around the mountainside again, Airwolf fishtailed around in a tight corner, turning to face the coming missile head on.

"Hellfire."

"Hellfire," Dom confirmed without hesitation. There was no time for that. He knew they were far closer than they should have been, but the alternative was they all ended up dead.

The reverberations from the explosion shook throughout the cockpit, rocking them uneasily.

After a moment, Hawke had stabilized the helicopter but his own world continued to rattle relentlessly.

"Where are the MiG's?" he asked, still trying to sort everything out while keeping them in air.

"Coming around the corner dead ahead."

Dead ahead was right.

"Give me another missile."

Soon the Soviet fighter had met a fate similar to that of its missile, a burning fireball all that was left. But the battle wasn't over yet.

The second MiG was by now directly above them and the Hind nowhere in sight.

"Where is that Hind?"

"It's not on any of the scopes," Caitlin and Dom both reported.

"Well find it," Hawke bit out irritably, "that is one thins I don't want sneaking up on me.

"Oh damn," Hawke muttered biting back a miserable whimper as a sudden new agonizing pain coursed through his body.

"What?" the other occupants asked together.

"Nothing," he respond suppressing another groan. "It'll have to wait.

"Load an Agile and give me turbos, Dom."

With a challenging howl Airwolf shot off through the sky in pursuit of the second MiG. Once it was in range, Hawke fired the Agile for what was sure to be a direct hit, but, rolling at the last minute, the MiG avoided certain death.

"Another one," Hawke ordered, knowing all too well the increasingly unbearable pain in side couldn't be a good thing as he fought to maintain conscientiousness and that the Hind was likely to be making a reappearance any time.