by Steve Voake
‘Dragonfly Squadron will attempt to enforce a no-fly zone on Earth near the fabric gap where we believe the mosquitoes will enter and take out any who make it through. But the success of the mission really depends on getting to them before they reach that point. Once they get through to Earth it’s likely to be dusk. The mosquitoes will have the advantage of better night-flight capability, which will make things a whole lot more difficult for us. So it’s absolutely crucial that we destroy them on the ground.’
Firebrand’s expression was grave as he looked around the room. ‘Are there any questions before we move on to the detail?’
A pilot several rows back asked a question about air defences and Firebrand nodded.
‘Yes, as you know, there are defensive batteries of nerve-gas dispensers stationed several miles outside the perimeter of the airbase. The gas is very similar to that which our pilots have occasionally encountered during flights on Earth.’
‘What’s he talking about?’ whispered Sam.
‘Think of fly spray,’ Skipper whispered back. ‘Whopping great canisters of the stuff. They put an invisible curtain of it up when they see you coming. Next thing you know, the aircraft’s crashed and you’re picking bits of cockpit out of your teeth.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Sam. ‘Nasty.’
‘In addition to the outer defences,’ Firebrand went on, ‘the airfield has a ring of ground-to-air missiles spread around the perimeter. Ten minutes before the main assault, special-forces raiding parties will disable the gas batteries and electronic jamming devices will be employed to confuse enemy radar.
‘At the same time the recently acquired horsefly will be used to covertly land another raiding party inside the perimeter fence, where commandos will take out the remaining air defences. Then at 0300 hours the main assault group will hit the airbase and commence moppingup operations.’
Firebrand paused. He looked out into the auditorium and his gaze swept across the faces of the pilots with such force that each felt as though they were being addressed individually.
‘In a moment you will break up into groups to receive detailed plans of your part in this evening’s operation. But before you do, there is one thing I want each and every one of you to be absolutely clear about: this operation cannot, must not, fail. You have one chance and one chance only to get it right. And get it right you must. For the future of millions – in this world and others – depends upon you. Do not fail them.’
There was silence for a moment as Firebrand gave each person the opportunity to feel the weight of responsibility that lay upon them. Then he added simply, ‘Good luck, everyone.’
The groups dispersed to various planning rooms and the next few hours were spent laboriously going over the layout of the Vermian airbase and studying plans of the target buildings. Sam and Skipper’s recent experience meant that the two of them were detailed to fly the newly repaired horsefly right into the heart of the enemy airbase with the first wave of commandos on board.
Sam knew that if they were captured they would almost certainly be killed. But despite his fears he said nothing, for he felt certain that this was the most important thing he had ever been asked to do in his life. Everyone was depending upon him. He was determined not to let them down.
They were informed that the horsefly had been refitted with dual controls ‘in case any problems are encountered during the mission’. Sam saw Skipper blink a couple of times and guessed that she was thinking what he was thinking. The planners obviously thought there was a high probability that at least one of them would get injured or worse on the way into the base.
One way or another, he thought, it would be a night to remember.
When the briefing finished they were sent back to their quarters to try and get a few hours’ sleep. As Sam walked into his room he discovered his bedcovers turned back, his pillows plumped up and a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table. Sanderson was in the process of drawing the curtains to shut out the afternoon sun.
‘You know, Sanderson,’ said Sam, ‘you’ll make someone a wonderful wife one of these days.’
‘Indeed, sir?’ replied Sanderson, smoothing out the last of the wrinkles from the curtains. ‘Am I to interpret this as a proposal?’
Sam grinned. ‘Sorry, darling, not this time. I’ve got a busy few days ahead of me. Maybe when I come back, eh?’
Sanderson smiled a rare smile. ‘You take care, sir,’ he said.
Then, after brushing a last speck of dust from Sam’s uniform that only he could see, he was gone and Sam was left alone with his thoughts.
Crossing his hands behind his head and propping himself up on his pillows, Sam kicked off his boots and wondered what on earth he was going to do for the next few hours. It was all very well telling them to get some rest before the mission, but it was easier said than done. There was too much going on in his head.
He sipped his hot chocolate and rubbed his eyes. Come to think of it, it had been an exhausting couple of days what with the trek up the mountain and then the early start this morning. Maybe he’d just go through the plans a couple more times in his head. Or maybe he’d just … shut his eyes for a while.
Two minutes later, Sam was fast asleep.
The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains when the first shadowy figure climbed through the hole cut in the fence and ran across open ground to the pilots’ accommodation block. He was quickly joined by three other men, one of whom wore a small backpack. Each carried a pistol fitted with a silencer.
The first man pulled out a pencil-sized CRB and aimed it at the entrance door. There was a blue flash, but the door remained intact and the man swore.
‘It’s not working,’ he hissed. ‘They’ve used some kind of material that’s resistant to the beam.’
He tapped the other man’s backpack. ‘We’ll just have to resort to the old-fashioned methods. We’ll go up onto his balcony and blow the windows. By then every man and his dog is going to know that we’re here, so it’s straight in, kill the kid and away again.’
The others nodded.
‘OK, let’s do it.’
They made their way to the corner of the block and edged along the outside wall, stopping every few seconds to check that they hadn’t been seen. Although kitted out in dark clothing, their experience told them that the slightest movement – even at night – would increase their chances of discovery.
Once they reached the balcony, the second man took out a rope and grappling iron, the hooks of which were covered in foam padding to deaden the noise. He threw it up over the balcony and the hooks caught on the railings first time.
In less than a minute, the four men were crouching on the balcony outside the window. One of them pressed what looked like a lump of soft clay against the window and pushed a detonator into it. He attached the detonator to a length of wire and then gestured to the others to get down. They huddled at the edges of the balcony and turned away, covering their ears as he touched the wire to a battery.
There was a tremendous roar, a shattering of glass and a sheet of orange flame leapt out into the evening air. In an instant, the men were on their feet and running into the room through a pall of black smoke. They went into a crouch and, holding their weapons out in front of them, fired continuously into the sleeping form beneath the bedclothes until their clips were empty. The shape in the bed jumped and twitched as the bullets thudded into it, pieces of wood and material flying up into the air.
When the firing stopped, the first man lowered his gun, stepped forward and pulled the bedclothes back. Underneath was a row of shredded pillows and a whole mess of feathers. Nothing else.
There was a noise behind them and the man turned around in time to see the wardrobe door slide back and an immaculately dressed manservant step out into the room.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen,’ said Sanderson, ‘but I think the person you are looking for may already have left.’
He then narrowed his eyes, leap
t into the air with a cry of ‘Ooooooh-sah!’ and scissor-kicked two of them neatly back through the broken window with such force that they crashed straight through the balcony rail and disappeared over the side. As the other men raised their guns to fire, Sanderson flipped over twice, landed at their feet howling ‘Eeeeeeeeeee’ and launched himself upwards with an explosive ‘Yah!’ He finished with a double punch of such ferocity that they both travelled horizontally through the air before smashing noisily into the bedroom furniture.
Sanderson bowed slightly, paused to remove a hair from his lapel and then bent down and picked up a small transmitter that had fallen onto the floor. He examined it briefly and then slipped it into his pocket. Intelligence would see to it that whoever sent these thugs received a message confirming a successful operation. That would buy Sam a bit more time.
‘You do realise,’ he said to the men who lay groaning on the floor, ‘that all of this damage will have to be paid for.’ He stepped forward and raised an eyebrow at the one who was lying among the splintered remains of the bedside table. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘to whom should I send the bill?’
Thirty-two
The sun was setting behind the mountains and the few clouds gathered around the peaks were soaking up the last of the red and orange rays like blotting paper. As Sam pulled back on the stick and lifted the horsefly smoothly over the perimeter fence, he could see the rows and rows of wasp squadrons stretching out across the airfields below him, awaiting their final orders to attack. He thought back to his first flying lesson a few short weeks ago and smiled to himself, remembering how he’d panicked that first time and flipped the wasp upside down. Already it felt like a lifetime ago. Now flying had become second nature to him.
He pulled back a little harder on the stick, opened the throttle and felt a surge of power from the insect’s wings as they climbed higher into the evening sky. After all the wasp training he had done, the horsefly felt slightly heavier on the turns but, despite the extra weight they were carrying in the back, it still had ‘plenty of grunt’, as Mump would have put it.
Sam found his thoughts returning to that summer morning long ago when he had found a horsefly in his bedroom, captured it under a glass and held it up to the window to look at. It was incredible to think of it now, but one of Odoursin’s pilots must have been staring straight back at him, wondering whether Sam would destroy him or let him go. It was strange when you thought about it.
How many other things were hidden just below the surface, things that would never be seen or even imagined?
His thoughts were interrupted by Skipper, who was peering out of the side window and pointing downwards. ‘Hey, did you see that?’ she said.
‘No,’ said Sam. ‘What was it?’
‘A big orange flash,’ said Skipper. ‘Down by the accommodation blocks.’
Sam shrugged. ‘Probably someone cooking one of Mump’s special recipes,’ he said. ‘Too much chilli powder.’
Skipper nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’ But she stared back at the flames and guessed from their location that someone still wanted Sam dead. Things were getting a bit too close for comfort.
She turned her head to look into the rear compartment of the fly. The aircrew had stripped out most of the original fuel tanks, leaving only enough for a one-way trip. If they survived the initial assault, their orders were to hitch a ride back on one of the transporter moths that were due to land once the landing strip had been secured. In place of the fuel tanks, the rear compartment was now filled with sixteen heavily armed commandos. They huddled together in the darkness, their serious eyes staring into space from half-hidden faces that were smudged and smeared with camouflage paint.
‘Are you all right back there?’ asked Skipper.
‘Yeah, no problem,’ said the troop commander, a young man in his early twenties. ‘The lads are looking forward to letting off some fireworks.’
There were a few smiles and nods of agreement, but Skipper could tell that behind the bravado most of them were feeling pretty nervous. They were all professional soldiers, highly trained and ready to do whatever it took to get the job done. But they were also young, with their lives ahead of them, and they knew better than most that the promise of tomorrow could be taken away in an instant. Tonight’s rich, beautiful sunset might be the last they would ever see.
It was a sobering thought, but luckily Private Binton chose that moment to break wind with a volume and violence that are seldom heard outside of an elephant’s enclosure.
‘Sounds like the fireworks have already started,’ said Skipper, and everyone laughed except for those nearest the epicentre, who, protesting loudly, held their noses and cuffed Binton around the head.
‘Now then, lads,’ he said defensively. ‘I was only trying to get us there faster.’
Sam and Skipper took turns at the controls as they flew on through the night. The idea had been that they would each get some rest on the long flight, but in reality they were both too excited and nervous to sleep. Sam took over from Skipper again for the final approach as the clock on the instrument panel blinked on to 0240 and the cockpit radio crackled into life.
‘Control to Trojan Horse, control to Trojan Horse. Come in, Trojan Horse, over.’
Sam leant forward and flicked the intercom switch. ‘Control, this is Trojan Horse. Go ahead, over.’
‘Trojan Horse, please confirm your position and estimated time of arrival, over.’
Sam scratched his head and peered at the array of dials glowing red in front of him, but Skipper was already a step ahead.
‘Grid reference 247359,’ she offered helpfully.
Sam put a thumb up to acknowledge her assistance and then spoke into the intercom again.
‘Hello, control, our position is now 247359 and our ETA is 0250 as planned. No resistance encountered as yet, over.’
‘Roger, Trojan Horse. Main assault force is airborne and ETA is 0300 hours. Reminder that neutralisation of enemy air-defence systems remains a priority, over.’
Sam gave Skipper a wry smile.
‘Yes, thank you, control, we hadn’t forgotten. Firework display will take place as discussed, over.’
‘OK, Trojan Horse, understood. There’ll be a bit of a party waiting for you when you get back. Good luck, over.’
‘Thank you, control. We look forward to it. Out.’
Sam flicked the intercom off and saw for the first time the lights of the enemy airbase up ahead in the distance.
‘OK, everyone,’ he said, taking the horsefly lower so that it skimmed just a few metres above the marshes, ‘six minutes to landing.’
Hekken was enjoying himself immensely.
For once, the news was all good and the Council was listening to him without any annoying interruptions from Martock, who was pleasingly subdued after their last encounter. Hekken knew that he was on a winning streak and, more importantly, the Council knew it too.
‘The last of the viruses have been loaded and the attack force will leave in the next half an hour,’ he told them. ‘As far as we can tell, our operation – under cover of darkness – will be virtually unopposed. Although intelligence sources have been warning us for some time that Vahlzian forces may be preparing to strike against us, we have had no new information to suggest that an attack is imminent.
‘By tomorrow morning it is conservatively estimated that as many as five hundred humans will have been infected with the virus. Better still, it is the height of the mosquito season. At this very moment, tens of thousands of wild mosquitoes are hatching from puddles and ponds within a ten-mile radius of our target zone. In a matter of weeks – long before the first symptoms even appear – these wild mosquitoes will have infected thousands of humans. Their presence at all major airports will ensure a rapid global spread which will be impossible to prevent. The extinction of human life will have begun.’
It was all going rather well, thought Hekken. He was gratified to note that there were nods from several members
of the Council and audible murmurs of approval from among their ranks.
It was time to give them the cherry on the cake.
‘One more thing,’ he said, looking pointedly at Martock, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. ‘From now on you can forget all this talk about the Dreamwalker’s Child.’
He drew himself up to his full height and looked straight at Odoursin, savouring this moment – the supreme moment – when he would finally receive the recognition he deserved.
‘I have just received coded confirmation from our special forces that the target has been destroyed,’ he said triumphantly. ‘The Dreamwalker’s Child is no more. Nothing can stop us now.’
He watched Odoursin’s eyes light up and saw the bitter smile begin to form on those withered lips. It didn’t get much sweeter than this. He was just allowing himself to imagine what he would do with the new-found power that would surely now be given to him when he saw something which chilled his blood and caused him to let out a small, involuntary cry.
Through the green glass of the tower he watched in horror as a dark shape flew silently past the window and then disappeared from view.
Hekken immediately registered three things: one, that it was a horsefly; two, that all non-mosquito flights had been cancelled; and three, it was headed straight for the airbase.
‘If Your Excellency will excuse me now,’ he said hurriedly, ‘I had better return to my post for the final phase of operations.’
Odoursin raised a hand to signal his assent and Hekken walked as calmly as he could across the marble floor towards the lift. The moment he reached the ground floor, however, he ran from the lift doors like a man possessed.