"There is no time to waste," commanded Okoye.
With long strides, she led the way to the wall on the other side of the throne room. The rest of the Dora Milaje, Nakia, Shuri and a small group of medical personnel following close behind. As they walked, the wall directly behind the throne indented in the shape of a doorway and receded to reveal a long, dark passageway with small blue lights lighting up the walkway all the way around the long curve of a bend.
Appearing quite narrow on approach, the corridor easily fit three people shoulder to shoulder. It opened into a large hangar with the Royal Talon Fighter at its centre. The huge aircraft's engines whirred to life as they all jogged aboard via the broad ramp. The hangar's roof slid open like the iris of a lens. The platform on which the aircraft sat started to lift it out of the hangar and came to rest just above the water at the edge of a waterfall, right next to the statue of the stalking panther. It lifted off with ease and dipped slightly while hovering over the edge of the cliff before speeding off to its destination.
T'Challa invited Steve to take up the co-pilot seat.
"I must be honest; I didn't think you'd come" smirked T'Challa.
"After everything you've done for Bucky, how could I say no?" Steve grinned back.
T'Challa chuckled. "You have no debts here."
"Sure." Steve's grin widened with an expression of 'keep telling yourself that'.
"I'm not even going to ask where you've been or what you've been doing." Said T'Challa.
"Even if you asked, I probably wouldn't tell you." Replied Steve.
T'Challa looked over at Steve and made a circular motion with his open hand in front of his face.
"It's going to take me a while to get used to all of this. What does Sharon think of the new look?"
Steve's eyes dropped to his lap. "I don't know. Things didn't exactly work out between us."
"I'm sorry." Replied T'Challa.
They sat in silence for a long while.
T'Challa's sister, Shuri, designed the Royal Talon Fighter, she was the head of the Wakandan Design Group and had a hand in many of its technological marvels, including much of T'Challa's armour and weaponry. The flight to South Africa that would take a commercial airliner seven hours took the Royal Talon Fighter three.
"So what's the plan?" Asked Steve.
"The team will be positioned around the box to secure it for hoisting into the cargo bay. You will be securing the perimeter and making sure we are alone. Should whatever is in the box wake up, you, my Dora Milaje and myself will have to contain it. Once on board, the contents of the box will be transferred to the medical bay so Shuri and the medical team can begin with their preliminary examinations. We can't bring any foreign pathogens into Wakanda."
"Understood." Said Steve sternly.
"We will hoist the box into the cargo bay and land to pick up the team and yourself. It's easier to get the box on board with the Fighter in the air."
Steve's right hand was resting subconsciously on his left forearm. T'Challa didn't miss it.
"You can have your choice of weapons from the armoury compartment next to the entrance to the cargo bay."
Steve nodded and thanked T'Challa as he got out of his seat to go and do just that.
Shuri was busy examining a schematic on a screen mounted on the wall next to the cargo bay. Steve looked around at how to access the weapons compartment, but as everything was in Wakandan, he wasn't particularly successful.
Shuri looked around and deduced the problem.
"Let me show you." She smiled.
"Thank you. I don't believe we've officially met. I'm Steve."
"I know. I'm Shuri." She tilted her head slightly, examining Steve's features while shaking his hand.
Her battle dress was different from the Dora Milaje's. Her hair had a long weave that she'd arranged neatly on her head with a long braid down the side.
"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am" smiled Steve.
Shuri rolled her eyes. "What you are looking for is accessible by pressing this button." She demonstrated as she spoke and a vertical drawer as tall as Steve slid smoothly out of the wall. On either side of it was mounted an array of unusual weaponry.
"What do you use now that you don't have the shield?" She asked.
Steve was surprised by her candour. Every time it had come up in conversation, whoever he was talking to had tiptoed around it.
"Whatever I have at my disposal. I've had to adapt a bit."
"I must show you what I've been working on when we get back." She said more to herself as she handed him two curved blades, one slightly larger than the other.
"I don't know how to thank you, for what you're doing for Bucky." Said Steve.
Shuri chuckled. "My brother loves bringing me broken things to fix, and I love fixing them. It just so happens that these days, he's taken to bringing me broken white boys."
Steve had the promise of a grin barely visible underneath his beard. Shuri didn't miss it. "You also seem to be somewhat broken Captain Rogers, though I don't think I am equipped to fix you."
"We're 10 minutes out." Came T'Challa's voice from the cockpit.
"I don't think anybody is," muttered Steve with a faraway look in his eyes.
Steve, Nakia, Ayo, Okoye and Shuri were quiet and tense as the jet hovered above the ground. The ramp slowly started opening, allowing in a rush of the cool night air. The smell of recently rained on earth filled the cargo hold.
The team were tethered to the jet and slid down to the damp ground via their ropes quickly. Steve waited for everyone to clear before he jumped and rolled into a solid landing.
T'Challa was manoeuvring the jet to hover right over where the dark rectangle of the box loomed. Steve did a quick sweep of the perimeter to make sure they were alone. He radioed his status up to T'Challa.
"We've not been noticed yet."
"Roger that." Came T'Challa's response.
The women were hard at work securing a harness around the box. Ayo boosted Okoye onto the top of the box where she secured the tether hanging from the jet above to the harness. Shuri and Nakia were double-checking the harness around the sides of the box.
Okoye pressed her ear as she radioed T'Challa.
All three women cleared away from the box.
The jet dipped as the rope became taught. A minute passed, but the box didn't budge. A creaking emanated from the cargo hold of the aircraft, and then the harness slipped, up and over the box causing its lid to fly off violently as the rope snapped. It landed a few feet away from Steve and shook the ground on impact.
Steve looked up at a light approaching in the distance.
"We've been noticed." He breathed over the radio. "We have to move. Now."
"Steve." Came the king's voice. "I'm going to set her down. We must retrieve the contents of the box before we go."
Steve muted his radio and breathed, "God damn it" as he broke into a run toward the box. He pushed off the ground as he came up beside it and grabbed hold of the edge. Hopping up with his right foot he looked down into the seemingly endless blackness before he swung his left leg over and descended slowly.
"Here goes nothin'." He muttered to himself.
He very carefully landed as close to the edge as possible and sank a little; he could feel fabric compressing beneath his feet. His eyes quickly adjusted to the unnatural darkness inside the box as he heard the muffled sound of the jet landing outside. The sound of the chopper in the distance had him blinking to find what he was looking for. He could make out the rough outline of a person wrapped in linen, not unlike a mummy, in the centre of the box.
He took a step forward and to the side of the figure and bent down, bringing it into a sitting position before carefully draping it over his shoulder.
He looked up at the edge of the box and jumped out. The chopper was close now. He looked around to find the jet and sprinted toward it. The ramp began to close as he ran up it and the jet started to take off.
The chopper was circling them as they rose into the air. A loud voice was booming over the noise, ordering them to land or risk being shot down. Steve lay the figure gently on the floating 'gurney' waiting for it. The jet sped off into the night and the sound of the chopper, trying to give chase, faded into the distance.