Chapter Twenty Eight - Flight

The fun and the excitement and the beauty of the dawn didn't last long. At high speed it was bitterly cold in the open cockpit and below them the countryside was ravaged by war. The further north they went the more bleak and mangled Marinaer became. "Like flying over hell" Pazu had thought. They saw whole villages and towns reduced to smoking ruin, lines of men in fields lay contorted and broken and bloody, the harvest of the machine gun. Pretty farms shattered by shelling and canals burst and leaking over the fields, in some places it was so muddy it was impossible to see where the line of the canal or river had been, so much water lay on the land. It did seem though that as they flew on, the character of the battle below them changed. They came to an area where the line of combat seemed to be no longer facing north to south but east to west. More and more they saw lines of soldiers, horsemen and vehicles moving west. Sheeta pointed out the green coated soldiers, looking like those they had seen on the Goliath and who had hunted them in Slag's Ravine. They looked like Numenaorian soldiers but what they were doing this far north, and marching west neither of them could fathom.

Nor, after a while, did they care. They soon had other things to concern them.

For a time they didn't know what kind of aircraft they had stolen. Pazu could find no guns on it, not even one machine gun. It seemed to be not very fast either but then, under a hatch behind her, Sheeta discovered a large metal box, a big plate camera bolted to the floor of the machine and pointing downwards. They had stolen a photographic reconnaissance aircraft. The camera was huge, as big as a bath, and obviously heavy, it would have been useful to get rid of it but it was securely bolted down and would need the whole upper fairing of the fuselage taking off to get out.

Pazu kept low, as low as he could, and fast. Their ride was like a roller coaster at a fairground, roaring over hedges and streams, darting around buildings and twisting between tree tops, banking and weaving. At first Sheeta had been afraid, and she had buckled on her seatbelt but as she realized Pazu wasn't actually insane or had a strong desire to splash them over the walls of some church, she settled down and enjoyed it. Tucking the poncho up around her ears and keeping out of the howling wind she sometimes watched the crazy twisting landscape writhe below them and sometimes watched him, his arms on the controls, the concentration and even, at times, the delight on his face. She delighted in seeing him happy, he was full of life, and she was in love. She wanted to tell him, soon, perhaps, when the moment was right, but not now.

Pazu kept glancing behind and asked her to check on her side as well. They were shot at a lot, the soldiers just seemed to shoot at anything that came over, friend or foe. Nothing hit them as far as they could tell but it seemed that sooner or later, one of the units they'd flown over would telephone a headquarters and report them. Sheeta, eyesight never failing her, saw them first. Marinaen flaptors, three of them, a pilot and rifleman on each, sleek and insect like, closing on them from behind. She shouted to Pazu and he pressed lower over the controls and squeezed the plane lower over the fields, and faster.

"How much fuel do we have?"
"No idea!"

They'd been flying two hours at least and it wasn't a large machine, their fuel couldn't last much longer. Ahead they saw rising land, and forests. The farmland below them ended at a wide river and they were suddenly over trees, big ancient forest, oak, ash, elm, sycamore, beech. Big trees stretching ahead for miles, their leaves brown and red and russet and golden, falling, bare branches. The land was rising too, rising towards hills, high and hazy in the northern distance. Pazu glanced behind and took the aircraft lower.

"Hold on, I'm going to try and lose them!"

He went down below treetop height and began a dangerous game of cat and mouse, banking and twisting through the gaps between the trees. The three flaptors, more nimble, smaller, and quicker, stayed with him, weaving and swooping. Sheeta watched him, the sweat on his face, his jaw clamped in concentration, his arms sweeping the control yoke this way and that, fighting the forces that wanted to send their machine the wrong way. She glanced behind.

"Paetsu, they're closer!"

He saw a gap and swung hard right, the plane stood on its wingtip, he went lower and a bang and shower of leaves told where their wheels had hit branches to their left. The gap ahead was smaller. Too small, but there was daylight to the left. He had no idea how much daylight but it was the only gap he could see. Twisting the stubby winged craft right over it swept from a vertical right bank, upside down and then stood on its other wingtip. Sheeta screamed as the force of the turn pressed her down into her seat. She saw a tree much too close, then daylight and then they were through. He banked right again, even tighter, even faster and the plane creaked and the engine screamed. Sheeta glanced back, something was spinning through the air behind them, branches and a turning fluttering thing, fluttering down.

"One of them crashed!"

The third steep turn swept them up an avenue of beech and this narrowed at the end. Pazu could see no way out. He hauled back on the control yoke and the craft complained and then soared, its nose seeming to kiss the brown trees ahead of it. Once climbing he let it go past the vertical then cut power, hauled hard back on the stick and kicked the rudder, pumping it hard, hard, hard. The nose of the plane went over, turning, stalling. Sliding back, it tumbled down, spinning and Pazu slammed the throttle open, banked right and came out of the stalling loop turn. Sheeta squealed as blue sky replaced brown trees and then brown trees came back, tumbling, over and over. A small buzzing green flaptor shot past them, turning, the gunner's face disbelieving.

"Come ON!"

Pazu cursed as the motor ran roughly, stalled then barked again and roared, he hurled the plane back down, back the way they had come, he sped back down the beech avenue and at the end swung right, banking hard through a clear space he'd seen earlier. Sheeta was gasping, her heart bounded inside her. They had gained a lot of space and Pazu kept on banking this way, that way, left, and left, and right all the time low and below the trees. She glanced behind. No sign of their pursuers.

Then their fuel, and their luck, ran out. The motor coughed once, again then began to run choppy and the airframe rattled, juddered. Pazu pumped the reserve tank feed but the lever ran slack, there was no pressure in there.

"No fuel! Taking her down! Hold tight!"

He saw a clearing, small, brown and oval shaped, he closed the throttle and dipped the nose. The motor rattled, coughed again loudly and went quiet. The silence was deafening, the wind whispered past them and the day was beautiful, the forest golden. A beautiful day for gliding, Sheeta thought. They coasted in. She glanced behind.

"Pazu! They've caught up!"

He banked into the open space, pulled right and then hauled the nose up, flaring, stalling, bleeding off speed. The plane fluttered down, its spindly undercarriage bounced, it leapt thirty yards then came down again, rolled across the ground, spewing leaves and hit a log. The nose wheel crumpled and the machine tipped up, standing on it's nose. A final crunch and they were down.

"Out, out! Run! Trees right!"

Unbuckling their harnesses they leapt out and went for cover. Behind them the two remaining flaptors hovered down, the pair of riflemen jumped off and the pilots lifted away, high over the trees.

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22 March 2007

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