by Unknown
"That's about 12 liters," Mike said. "It will have to do." He sat the empty can down on the ground and replaced the cap on the plane's tank. Then he took off his communication badge and told Rokka how to put it on. He drew a surprised look from Rokka who, because the badge was no longer attached to anyone, suddenly heard Mike's real language instead of the instant translation from the translator inside. Once it was attached to Rokka's shirt, he could understand Mike again.
"Look," Mike said realizing what had happened and starting over again. "Wear this. It must remain on your clothes. When Jo and I leave, I am going to try and break down that big antenna on the tower. If I do, tap this thing like this," he said tapping the radio as he had been shown long ago, “and call for the captain of the Lexington. Have you got that?"
Rokka could see the earnestness of Mike's actions. "The captain of the Lexington," he repeated.
Mike nodded. "That's right. With any luck, he will answer. Tell him that we are in the air nearby. He will be able to find us. Once we are away, you can say you didn't know anything about all this. Don't worry. I will come back for you and Shala," Mike reassured him with a smile.
Rokka nodded, although all of this activity was far beyond him. "But what if it doesn't work," he asked.
Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Then tell Brana and his goons that we made this ourselves. Who knows, maybe he'll believe it. We won't matter much if it doesn't work anyway."
Jo came running up almost dragging the canvas bag. She handed over the glasses and pointed to the bag Mike had taken from her and placed behind their seats.
"What's this for?"
"Just get in and strap yourself down," he said hurriedly. Then turning to Rokka, "I'm sorry there's no time to explain or say good byes," he said. He extended his hand. "Good luck my friend."
"Good luck," Rokka replied with his usual smile. His hand was firm as ever.
Shala ran up the path. "They are almost here," she screamed, afraid that Brana and his men might catch them. She knew full well what that would mean.
Mike reached into his home built cockpit and flipped the ignition switch for the engine. Then he reached for the handle of the choke for the mixture and grabbed the starting handle. He pulled the cord as hard as he could. Aside from turning the engine over it did nothing. He pulled again and still nothing. Then he squeezed the bulb on the fuel line again really hard. He could tell by the resistance that fuel was primed to the engine.
Rokka and Shala watched helplessly as time after time, Mike pulled with no results. Now his arms were getting tired. Mike adjusted the choke again and gave a heave. The little engine coughed a couple of times and then stopped again. Readjusting the choke once more, he gave one more pull. The engine sputtered and coughed, blue smoke began popping from the exhaust pipes, each hit adding heat to the equation and increasing the revolutions as the cylinders, for the first time in a decade, felt the searing fires of combustion. Rough at first, the engine began to hit evenly and Mike increased the flow of fuel to the engine. It responded with a shutter, and then smoothed out at higher revolutions. Finally, Mike disengaged the choke and the engine began to smooth rapidly until its propeller was pounding the air and sending a cascade of wind back along the plane and its occupants.
Mike looked back at Jo in the plane and Rokka and Shala standing to the side being buffeted by the blast from the engine.
"Hurry Michael!" Shala shouted over the engine noise.
Mike jumped into his seat behind the controls and buckled the large leather strap around his waist. He maneuvered the stick and watched the corresponding reactions on the control surfaces. Then with a wave, he readjusted his goggles and released the makeshift braking system he and Rokka had installed. With his other hand, he pressed the throttle all the way to its stop.
With a roar, the plane began to move along the dirt road down to the lake. It was about 300 meters to the water's edge and Mike hoped the small plane would be airborne long before that. It began to pick up speed rapidly, and Mike could see contrails from the propeller tips in the early morning air as the engine strained to pull the weight faster and faster. Tufts of grass and other obstacles bumped the aircraft as it sped on its way, bouncing its occupants. Jo thought her bones would shake apart from the pounding, but they continued to speed along. Yet the aircraft remained solidly glued to the ground. Things began to zoom past them as they continued to accelerate down the makeshift runway. Puddles flung their muddy contents all over the plane as it continued to struggle with the elements. On the tail of the craft, the muddy water partly obscured the hand painted serial number N-X-211 and the name ‘Ryan’ Mike had painted only hours before.
Just as Mike and Jo began to doubt that they would make it, Mike noticed the struts pulled tight against their attachment points. The wing fabric, already taught from the dope they had applied, seemed to stretch upward as the little plane began to feel the lift her namesake had felt those centuries ago on a rainy morning at Roosevelt Field, outside New York. Jo was saying her own silent prayer and looking at the name Spirit, on the side of the nose, when she noticed a change. Slowly at first, the grasses and puddles of the runway fell away as if by magic. The Spirit suddenly smoothed from her bumpy ride to claw into the air. Within seconds, the water of the lake was beneath them as Mike continued to pull back on the stick and ease his plane skyward. This time, the Spirit would not have to fly as far as she had so long ago, but her flight would be just as important.
On the shore, Rokka and Shala stared in amazement as the sails and miscellaneous parts they had kept in that barn for years lifted their two children into the air! With their mouths open, they watched as Mike banked the plane to the left and passed over them over 100 feet overhead, waving as they passed. The small engine was screaming to pull the aircraft even faster and higher. Rokka and Shala stared at each other for a moment, then turned and began to hurry back to the house.
Mike kept the engine at full throttle for a while to gain altitude. There was a lot he still had to do. After adjusting some of the controls, he leaned back and shouted to Jo. "Get a brick out of the bag."
Jo looked behind her in the canvas bag still sitting behind her seat. She opened the top and looked inside. There were several bricks and a length of thin steel cable with what looked like a hook attached to one end. Jo Picked out a brick and handed it to Mike, who was busily maneuvering the Spirit towards the large antenna on one end of the island. As they got close, Mike lifted the brick and took aim. After a few seconds, he flung the brick down and forward to try and compensate for their speed.
The brick soared through the air toward the glass dome of the antenna. Passing the rim by a mere two feet, it fell harmlessly into the compound.
Damn, he thought as he jerked the stick to the left and banked the plane for another try. Jo handed him another brick as he lined up the plane for another approach. This time, he pulled back the throttle to slow the forward speed and help him in his aim. This time the brick was closer, but sailed onto the roof of one of the buildings, crashing through it.
Mike was furious. He had planned to knock out the damping system and aid his friends at the same time. He heard Jo's voice from behind him.
"Let me try it," she said. "You just steer the plane."
Once again, Mike brought the plane around and aimed for the antenna. Keeping the craft steady, and slowing again, he concentrated on putting the Spirit right on top of it. He was staring at the antenna getting almost directly beneath them when he saw a brick sail from behind him toward the glowing glass dome. It arced through the sky and struck the glass dome about half way from the base to the top, shattering it into thousands of small pieces before bouncing off the edge and ending up just outside the fence.
"Not bad huh," Jo yelled with glee.
"Never underestimate a good woman, right?"
Jo nodded at him grinning from ear to ear. "Now what?" she asked.
"Now take out the cable with the grappling hook on the end. Let it dangle about 10 me
ters under us and snag the broken antenna. Once it's hooked, let the wire go quick or it will yank us both to the ground," he yelled over the engine.
Jo nodded in understanding and brought out the cable with the hook. The strands were being held together by a paper tape. She removed the tape and slowly unrolled about 10 meters of cable and held it loosely in her hand as it dangled below them in the wind. She could see the danger. If she didn't let go of the cable when it caught, the line would pull tight in her fingers and either take her hand off, jerk her out of the aircraft, or worse, pull the aircraft and them out of the sky. She let the strands of the cable rest almost freely in her fingers.
Mike took his time and lined up again. Watching the hook on the cable, he adjusted for the wind and watched the grappling hook snare the edge of the antenna. Jo slung the remaining cable away from the aircraft and watched it drape across the antenna platform and the central antenna and flutter to the ground across the compound and over the fence. The electric fence immediately sent its charge up the line and in contact with the antenna above. A flash of blinding light swept the entire length of the cable and sent the antenna exploding in giant arcs of electricity. A second later, the generating station exploded in a yellow fireball as the high voltage transmitters reacted to the returning voltage of the fence. The fire and smoke filled the air and rose in a large ball above the island.
Brana and his men had just tied up their boat and started up the pier when they heard the plane and began to wonder what was happening. The explosion of the generating station caused them to all fall to the ground and look around in amazement. Only Brana seemed to understand as he saw the small craft turn away from the large ball of smoke that had once been his damping station. The rest of his men stared on at the apparition in the sky.
Brana jumped to his feet in a blind rage. He knew immediately what was happening, and he only saw Mike and Jo in the plane. "Get those two from the house. They will pay for this," he screamed, shaking his stick in the air at the retreating plane.
Rokka and Shala had already reached the house and had locked the doors. They then ran upstairs and locked the door to the loft.
"Did you lock the doors downstairs?" Rokka asked.
"Yes, Papa," Shala said somberly. It was the end for them. Brana would kill them for sure. What difference would locked doors make, she wondered.
Rokka looked at the expression on his wife's face. He surely hoped that what Mike told him would help. His hand went to his chest and he tapped the radio as they heard the first shots downstairs. "This is Rokka calling the Captain of the Lexington. Are you there?" he said into the piece of metal on his chest.
Aboard the Lexington, Captain Dickson was reading his morning reports in his command chair when the communications officer got his attention. "Captain, you are being hailed by someone named Rokka."
Dickson had no idea who this Rokka was, even less how he could be communicating with him. His curiosity had the answer. "On speakers."
"...of the Lexington. Are you hearing me?" the voice said again.
Dickson answered him. "This is the captain of the Lexington. Who are you?"
"My name is Rokka. We have been taking care of your people Michael and Jo. He said you could see him from there. He told me to tell you he was in the air near here and you could see him," Rokka said as Mike had told him.
"Sensors?" Dickson turned to the watch officer.
"I have him sir," It was Lieutenant Day, “…in some kind of aircraft going away from that position."
"Can you see him?" Rokka asked.
"Yes. We see him Mr. Rokka," Dickson said. Then he heard shots in the background. He stood up quickly, almost astonished that there was shooting. "Is someone firing a weapon near you Mister Rokka?"
Rokka watched as wood began to fly from around the door lock to their room. "It is Brana and his men," he said in rising fear. "They are shooting down our door. Please look after Mike and Jo. Tell them we were thinking of them," he said as more shots were fired.
Dickson reacted quickly. "Streamer room, bring this man and anyone near him to the bridge, immediately!" he ordered desperately.
Within seconds, Rokka and Shala appeared before him. Shala huddled in Rokka's protective arm while his other hand still clutched the communication badge attached to his shirt. Shala's eyes were tightly shut and Rokka was blinking in amazement. Slowly, Shala opened her eyes and they both gazed at their surroundings, almost afraid to move. Captain Dickson walked forward and unhooked the communicator badge from Rokka's shirt - his smile reassuring them, although they were not about to move from their spot.
"You are safe now," Dickson said to them placing a hand on Rokka's shoulder.
Rokka blinked in amazement. He recognized the voice. "You are this captain?" he asked cautiously.
Dickson extended his hand. "Captain Fred Dickson of the star cruiser Lexington. Welcome aboard."
Rokka gingerly took the outstretched hand. "Thank you, sir."
Shala stared up at them. "What about Michael and Jo?"
Dickson turned to Lieutenant Day. "Put them on screen." Then he turned Rokka and Shala around to see the image now on the clear window.
There, they saw the Spirit flying over the lake and beginning to make its way over the woods on the other side. The silver wings were in sharp contrast to the surrounding trees. The letters N-X-211, standing out along the top.
"As you can see, they are on their way," Dickson said. He turned to the watch. "Are they headed near any of our teams?"
"Yes sir. Commander Tosh and Lieutenant Hadaie are near the line of flight," Day said.
"Good. Contact them and see if they can get their attention."
"Aye sir."
As they crossed over the forest from the lake, Jo was looking around at the beauty that was passing beneath them. Although she had never thought about flight as anything a fun person would do, the experience was more exciting than anything she had ever experienced. She leaned forward and hugged Mike from behind.
"This is wonderful! I never dreamed I could experience such freedom!" she yelled over the engine, which was just below maximum power.
Mike smiled back at her. "It's not over yet. Not till we get past the border," he yelled.
"I'm not worried," she said as she ran her hands over Mike's chest. "I could do this forever."
Mike took one hand and grasped hers. He yelled over the din of the engine, "We can after we're married."
Jo stiffened for a moment. "What?"
"I said we can after we're married," Mike yelled again, squeezing her hand.
Jo kissed him on the back of the neck. "Okay. You got yourself a deal," she said into his ear. She rested her face on his back and held on tight. There had been no other possible answer. She would remain with him the rest of her life.
As they neared the border, one of the border patrols heard the sound of the engine getting closer. Looking through the woods they saw nothing, and then suddenly, one of the guards looked up in shock.
"What is that?" his friend asked.
"I don't know. Some sort of motor," another guard said in front of them.
Finally the one seeing the plane made a move. "Look up there!" he screamed.
All four of the men looked up to see the winged object glide overhead.
"What is it?" one asked.
"I don't know. Never seen anything in the air like that before," said another.
Then the leader of the group snapped out of his trance. "Whatever it is, they are trying to go across our border," he cried, and he lifted his rifle and began to fire at the plane. The others joined in and began to pepper the air around Mike and Jo with bullets.
The first indication of danger was when Mike felt a bullet hit the craft. He noticed a small hole appear in the right wing about a meter away. He immediately shoved the throttle to its stop again and began to maneuver the Spirit around the sky. Jo was holding on for dear life.
"They're shooting at us! Hold on!" Mike screamed.
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They sped up and began evasive turns to throw off the aim. Unfortunately Mike flew directly above another patrol that added its firepower to the other.
More holes appeared in the wings as Mike changed direction again and started to sprint toward the border, which showed up as a line of cleared trees in the distance.
"We've stumbled into a rough place," Mike yelled.
Jo's eyes were wide in fear as she clung to him. "Just get us out of here!"
The little plane sped on, jinking back and forth to throw off the aim of the soldiers on the ground. More bullet holes appeared in the wing and Jo suddenly straightened, her face contorted in pain. A bullet had ricocheted off of one of the support tubes and into her back near one of her kidneys. Her mouth began to make movements without sound as the pain seared through her. She was squeezing Mike in support, but Mike did not notice her distress. He thought it was the excitement. He continued to maneuver the aircraft around pockets of soldiers.
After a minute more, Mike turned and looked at her head resting on his shoulder. "We're almost out of their range," he said. Then he noticed she was not responding. "Are you Ok?" he asked.
Jo turned her head and smiled weakly. "Fine. Just get me out of this!" she cried.
Mike returned to controlling the aircraft and saw the thin line of the border cut through the forest. He turned the plane to make the border at its closest point. After a few minutes the Spirit moved into safe territory.
Mike let out a long breath. It had been a most exciting ride and he was glad it was over with. In the distance, he saw some dunes near a river and some low hills. Should have places there we could land, he thought, if there is any civilization nearby. He made for the dunes easing back on the throttle and allowing the Spirit to cruise along. He turned his head and kissed Jo on the side of the head.
"We're over now. Just a few more minutes and we can land somewhere. Do you see those dunes?" he asked.