by Mark Tufo
After reaching them, I climb and see a narrow pass carved into the chain of jagged ridges to the south. A few miles into the canyon, there’s a truck parked sideways on the winding highway with wrecked motorcycles around it; I’ve reached the scene where I fought the whistlers. I’m on the right path.
The temperature climbs dramatically as I fly out over the desert. I watch the gauges to make sure I don’t overheat. Ahead is a line of storm clouds in the near distance. That will be my real challenge.
I’m through the steam cloud before I really register it and am immediately tossed about as I’m enveloped by clouds. I turned on the anti-icing systems just prior to entering and keep part of my focus on the warning lights and for any unnatural shaking, which could indicate ice forming on the rotors.
The heating system keeps the windscreen clear of ice, but as I’m in the weather, I’m flying on instruments, so it really doesn’t matter much. However, ice starts forming on the leading edges of the fuel and missiles pods. The extra weight is compensated for by the fuel I’ve burned, so it shouldn’t be a factor.
The freezing rain turns to hail as I progress further into the storm, the chopper bounces in the heavy turbulence. I eventually fly into smoother air as the sleet and hail turn to snow. The visibility is down to zero, and I keep an eye not only on my instruments to keep level flight, but also on the radar altimeter. I also cycle the hydraulic systems continually to keep the fluid from freezing. Even with the heater blasting, it’s still awfully cold in the cockpit, and I worry about water getting into the electronics.
After flying for less than an hour in the storm, I suddenly break into the clear. The abrupt change from the gray to bright daylight is startling and a much more striking transition than merely popping out from a layer of clouds into sunlight. It’s all I can do to keep the helo flying as my vision adjusts. My main concern is how the abrupt change of temperature will affect the fittings. I set the chopper down on the highway, just in case one decides to go out.
It’s hot as fuck. I shut down to allow the aircraft to adjust, sweat immediately forming and just as instantly evaporating. With the sun settling behind the rain clouds, the shade is welcome. I check out the helo, open the inspection plates, examine every fitting I can find. Whoever made this thing wasn’t the lowest cost contractor. I’m beat from the day’s flight, and even though it’s scorching out, even in the shade, I opt to spend the rest of the day on the ground.
When night falls, I start up and fly through the desert, reaching the edge of the heat just as my auxiliary tanks run dry. I’m now operating on the main tanks, and that will be the limit of my range. It should be enough to get me to my destination. I land to get a few hours of rest. To the best of my knowledge, tomorrow will mark a year since I departed. Only then will I know if I was correct in my interpretation of that whispered message.
The first hint of the coming day graces the eastern horizon, blue pushing against the dark skies as if waging a battle. Slowly gaining momentum, the hue lightens and spreads across the sky. The desert plain is flat enough that I’m able to see the planet’s curvature. Oranges and reds stream horizontal, the colors constantly changing—growing and flaring. The eastern skies look like they’re on fire.
The first flare of sun peeks over the horizon like the flash of a star exploding. Light bursts across the desert as the imperious, burning orb rises as if being born. The increase in temperature is felt almost immediately, but nothing like the scorching heat of the hot zone. Considering how tough those bugs were, I can’t help but wonder if this might be my last day alive.
I crank up the attack helo and run through the systems check. I have two medium-range radar-guided anti-air missiles attached to the outer pylon mounts. Two rocket pods hang underneath, next to the external fuel tanks, which are now empty. Even though they’re more weight, I opt to keep the fuel tanks for now—you just never know. Aside from that, I have the chain gun in the nose. The 32mm explosive rounds are slightly different from the 30mm rounds carried by attack helos in my world, and I have around 1,500 of them. I’m well-armed, but there's no way to know if it will be enough.
I have no idea what I’ll find ahead and wonder if the building is even still there. Those huge bee-like creatures are my chief concern. Three missiles fired by the soldiers was enough to bring down one of them, so I’m hoping my two plus cannon fire is enough for both of them. The soldiers had a rough go with their heavy caliber machine guns, but the 32mm is nearly two and half times the size of a .50 cal and should be much more effective. Plus, I’ll have maneuverability hopefully equal to that of the beasts.
Where I truly have serious anxiety is whether the demon is still lurking nearby. And I don’t mean Kalandar, although, if he happens to be around, I have some serious words for him in the form of rockets. It’s been a year now, and I wonder what happened to Mike. Always before, we’ve managed to reconnect in a relatively short period of time when separated. I kept expecting to run into him at the military encampment, but I’ve neither seen nor heard anything of him. I can’t help but keep wondering if I made a mistake, not going through that door. But, here I am; what’s done is done.
Dust clouds billow outward from the rotor downwash. I push my nervousness aside as I lift free of the surface. I want some altitude in order to see far enough ahead that I don’t just blindly bumble into something. I pull up the long-range camera on the monitor and search ahead. I’ve run through the arming checklist and have the anti-air missiles selected. Without a co-pilot to assist with the weapons targeting, it will be a busy cockpit, should I get into a fight.
I move slowly, following the road. At about twenty-five miles away, I pick up the structure rising above the plain, looking like a differently painted Taj Mahal.
So, at least that’s still here.
The rotors are a spinning blur over my head, the cockpit smelling of oil, fuel exhaust, and body odor. The roar of the jet engines is a constant in the background as I inch closer, the lone road tracking through the desert under my feet.
At twenty miles, the flying creatures come into clearer focus. One is aloft, hovering about two stories up in the air. The second one is resting below, in front of the structure. For a brief moment, I wonder if they somehow picked up my approach. I’m not currently visible to them, unless they have some sort of ability of which I’m not aware, and the sound of the rotors can’t be reaching them yet…then I notice the tall red form of Kalandar standing a short distance from the building.
What in the fuck is he doing here?
The last I saw of the demon was him racing away from the structure with something in his arms. He'd high-tailed it away until he was just a minuscule dot. I eye the bee-like creatures and the demon, deciding which should be my primary target. The flying beasts had actually helped me when I escaped, whether it was intentional or not. They hadn’t actually attacked me, and the one had let me go. Now, that could have been just timing as it reached some kind of border; on the other hand, Kalandar definitely gave Mike and me to the Overseers.
I creep closer, my targeting square centered on the great red demon. Both he and the other creatures are large enough to show up as targetable objects. At fifteen miles, I notice two others near the side of Kalandar. They are people, and I wonder if any of the soldiers survived, and if so, what in the hell are they still doing here? How could they have survived in this place for a year? Why and when did Kalandar return? The last I saw of him, he was hightailing it across the desert.
At ten miles, I see that the people near the demon aren’t dressed the same as the soldiers were. The three of them, both demon and human alike, appear to be in a standoff with the flying creatures, and in my opinion, they are the more formidable of the two groups. I can fly circles around Kalandar and engage him from a distance, so I move him into the realm of secondary targets.
Seven miles away, I move the targeting box to the hovering creature and am met with a solid tone. My plan is now to take out the bees first and then engag
e Kalandar. I’ll have to keep enough situational awareness to stay out of the demon’s reach. In the back of my mind are the Overseers, but as I don’t see any sign of them at the moment, I’ll keep my focus on the flying beasts. I’m also worrying that the other, larger, demon might still be lurking about.
Now that I have a plan, I wonder if I should split my two missiles between the creatures or target a single one and down the other in aerial combat. Having one out of the way will tremendously ease things, but if one missile isn’t enough to take one down, then I’ll have expended them and still have to engage two. After having watched them battle, I’ll have my hands full enough fighting one. Two might be too much.
I double check that my selector switch is on the missile and that I still have good tone. The hovering creature is locked up. I press the trigger. The missile leaves the rail, streaking away in a trail of white smoke. Still having good tone and hoping I’m not making a mistake by launching my last missile at the same creature, I press the trigger a second time. The missile rushes forward with a whoosh.
The nose of the chopper dips as I dart forward. I want to be close and engage the second one as quickly as possible. At seven miles and traveling at Mach 4, the first missile closes the distance in a little under five seconds. The trail of smoke intersects with the hovering beast. It explodes and the creature is hidden behind an explosion of light and smoke. The second missile, its trailing white line converging with the first one, detonates in the same spot a moment later.
The targeted beast emerges through the smoke, causing my heart to stop. It flies erratically and then drops straight down to the desert floor. Dust bursts outward from its heavy impact. When the dust settles, I’m able to see that the creature’s wings are in a tangle and it isn’t moving. I’ll keep an eye on it when I can in case it recovers, but for now, it’s out of the fight.
I zoom forward, selecting the nose-mounted chain gun. It will take me just under three minutes to close the distance at high speed. The second beast is airborne and heading rapidly in my direction, our closure rate somewhere around three hundred miles per hour. I drop my empty external fuel tanks and we meet head on in under a minute.
The creature is larger than my chopper and fills the windshield in mere moments. The stick and helicopter vibrate as I pull the trigger, hearing the staccato sounds of the rounds firing. Flashes light up on the thing’s head and along its sides as my explosive rounds strike. The flying creature angles to the left and I bank right.
Just as we slide past one another, I see the beast’s head dart toward the chopper as it attempts to take a bite out of it. It misses and we’re past. I reef the chopper around, the blades biting deeply into the air and the G’s pulling me down into my seat. I have the beast targeted so I’ll be able to keep track of its general location through the HUD.
As I bank tightly around, the beast has beaten me to the turn. It seems that it might be more agile than my flying machine. I give a little press on the rudder, sliding the chopper’s nose around quicker. For the briefest of seconds, the pipper settles on the beast and I send out a short burst. Several rounds strike in quick flashes and the creature dodges away. Its movement gives me the angle I need. Still in a hard turn, I manage to roll out into the creature’s six.
I fire another quick burst, the heavy caliber rounds striking the bulbous tail. It darts up and away to the right. I try to follow the move, but the agile nature of the beast forces me outside of the turn. I’ve seen the effects of the explosive bullets. The creature obviously doesn’t like them, but the strikes haven’t brought it out of the air or even slowed it that I can see. I need to hit the wings or wing roots if I can.
Pushing the nose forward, I roll in an attempt to cut inside the turn. I’m sure this machine wasn’t meant to dogfight, but here I am in one. It’s maneuverable, but each attempt to stay with the creature bleeds off a little more of my energy. I suppose I could go into a hover and fire at the beast every time it came at me, but the thought of being still doesn’t sit well with me. I saw what the beast could do to a thick steel-walled military vehicle and want no part of it being able to grasp me in its mouth. This is my third chopper, and I really don’t want to lose this one.
As I’m banking around, I wonder what would happen if the bee were to try and take a bite out of the rotors. Would it be sliced up or would it be able to crunch through them? Through the strain of the tight turn, I’m able to keep the beast in sight, the tail end visible in the upper right of the windscreen. G’s are pressing me down as I try to keep behind the creature, the thumps of the rotors heavy and loud.
It darts suddenly to the left, crossing directly in front of my path. I trigger a quick burst, the flashes of hits register, and then it’s gone from sight as I reverse my bank. The more agile beast caught me in a scissors maneuver and brought the fight to more equal grounds. I pull up, going as vertical as the helicopter and speed will allow. I then press the rudder and bring the nose back around.
The beast has reversed its turn, again passing in front. Another burst—the hits this time on top of the creature. I watch it stagger in the air momentarily before zipping across my line of sight.
At last, some effect from my rounds.
However, I’m now at a disadvantage as I fly downward to pick up speed. Leveling out, I lean to the side and glance behind me. Sure enough, the solid white creature is on my tail. I pick up speed in an effort to outrun it, but it closes in. Keeping my attention divided between my flight path and the creature behind me, I bank and press the rudder to keep my tail out of its mouth. It matches my every move.
The nose rises sharply, the rotor blades again biting acutely into the air. My airspeed rapidly bleeds off. The beast flashes past to the side. Lowering the nose and picking up speed, I’m again on its tail. Hitting the thing is hard enough, and putting my rounds into its wings or their base harder still. But, I have to do my best. I saw that I had some effect, and I need that to happen again.
I chase after the beast as it zigs and zags through the sky, sending quick bursts whenever my pipper crosses the target. I wish I had mounted more anti-air missiles, but it is what it is. Several times, I find my hand straying to the selector switch to bring the rocket pod online. A volley at close quarters, provided they hit, would probably deal the damage I want, but the big red demon on the sands below is still in the back of my mind. The 32mm rounds might do the trick, but there’s nothing like the blast of multiple rockets to drive your point home.
Also residing in the recesses of my thoughts is the larger demon. Even though the rockets didn’t do it much damage, they did enough for it to break off its attack. I’d like to keep them, if at all possible. Looking at the armament panel, I see that I still have a touch under a thousand rounds, so I’m good there. Still, I’ve fired over a third of my available ammo with only one telling series of impacts.
The creature and I bank across the sky, changing positions several times. I can’t quite place my rounds where I need them. The beast is too deft. It’s on my tail again, and I’m trying to shake it loose. I try everything to get behind it again and to keep it from snapping my tail rotor off. The beast has learned. It’s anticipating my tactics now, and I yank and bank, pushing on the rudder just when it seems my enemy is about to close its mouth around the tail.
The creature is dead aft. I won’t be able to hold it off for much longer. It’s hard to imagine something so big and boxy being able to maneuver like this. It’s like fighting an oversized bee with a baseball bat. I push the nose over, the beast following close on my heels. I let it close again to within a few feet. The ground is rising rapidly as I dive toward it. With a deep breath, I pull aft on the cyclic and lower the collective. The nose rises and airspeed bleeds off as I quickly slow.
The beast attempts to dart above, but flies into the circular arc of the rotors. The windscreen splashes with a thick, syrupy goop. Pushing forward and raising the collective, the helicopter picks up airspeed. Beyond the opaque white muck on t
he windscreen, I see the bee staggering through the air.
I roll away, the downwash clearing much of the slop away. Keeping the beast in view, I circle around. It’s rising and falling without attempting to advance. Separated now with a little distance, I roll into an attack. The pipper settles on the wallowing beast and I let loose a long burst. Flashes erupt all across its body. With small movements of sticks and rudder, I move the rounds as best I can toward where one of the wings is attached. A long volley of flashes concentrate around the wing base and I watch as the appendage separates to float gently downward.
The beast falls from the sky, tumbling and spiraling toward the desert floor. It hits with force, dust and soupy gouts of liquid shooting outward from the impact. I turn back toward the first creature to see that it’s still where it hit the ground. A quick check of the area tells me it’s clear of enemies, with the exception of Kalandar and the two people with him.
Now it’s time to complete some other business.
I’m exhausted from the fight, the high-G maneuvering having taken its toll. My uniform is drenched with sweat and my mouth dry. I drop lower to the ground and slip into position in front of Kalandar. I want to remain out of his reach and out the explosive range of my rockets, but I also want to be fairly close to ensure a devastating impact. I want as many as possible to nail the traitor.
I switch the selector switch to the rocket pods. There are also options for firing patterns from six at a time to all twenty-four. I opt for a full spread. I hover at about twenty feet off the ground, staring at the demon. The two who are with him remain close by his side and I wonder why they would do that. They must be allies. One of them moves in front of the demon and starts waving his arms in the air.
I’m a little confused. Surely whoever it is knows they’ll be caught up in the explosions, should I fire, and I’m showing a fairly aggressive posture. So, if it was me, I’d be getting as much distance from the red giant as I could. Is the person waving me off? I know most people may not know it, but waving arms like that is a “wave off,” a signal that it’s not safe to land. He’s obviously telling me not to fire, but why?