CrimsonSkies-Briefcase Blues15

Chapter 15 The Great Escape

‘Okay, so you’re absolutely sure you want to do this?’ asked Patrick, not entirely keeping the doubt out of his voice.
‘I told you already, Patrick. It’s not a matter of choice,’ Jason called back from up high. He was strapping himself in after climbing into the cramped cockpit of the black Spook plane. It wasn’t easy sitting down in a pilot’s seat tilted ninety degrees backwards.
Closer inspection revealed it was a Bell Valiant Mark II sitting at the base of the experimental launch machine, like a bullet in the open slide of a giant rifle. Not a bad choice to make in Jason’s mind. The Valiant was a light and agile fighter with a characteristic cruciform tail, high wings and a big pusher prop. This configuration called for a shallow angle on take offs and landings and therefore the need for long runways, but the Spooks had certainly thought of a creative way around it. The only real drawback would be the light payload to match its light weight. Yet serving as a point defense interceptor, Jason felt confident he couldn’t have asked for a better plane to escort the Damocles to safety. Except maybe a dozen more of them.
There had been the necessary modifications though. The standard six .30 caliber machineguns or “paper punchers” as Walter was fond of calling them, had been replaced by two sturdy .60 calibers. He didn’t have any rockets at his disposal, but the munitions drums were enlarged to compensate. No need to worry about running out of ammo on this sortie. Several bulges in the cowling suggested the engine had been worked on as well. Jason figured it must have been necessary to make it run in its unnatural start position.
A notepad lying on the control panel at the base of the whole contraption labeled it “Experiment 626 – Point Defense Rapid Response Interceptor Deployment Facility [P.D.R.R.I.D.F.]”, an acronym only government eggheads could come up with. Jason sometimes wondered if they got paid by the letter of the abbreviations they invented.
Now was not the time however. The clock was ticking and counting down fast. He adjusted his seat and worked himself through the start up procedure.
‘I’m going to close the lid on this thing, you ready?’ he called down to where Patrick and Walter were busy getting the launch system ready as well.
‘Errr, sure. Yeah, we think so!’ was the confidence inspiring answer, ‘It’s a pretty straightforward system. All we have to do is open the doors, arm the launcher and flick the switch here. You just make sure the rev counter is kissing the red line by then. We’ll flash the lights once to throttle up and once more to indicate your dramatic departure. Got it?’
‘Got it. You two get yourselves back on the Damocles as soon as I’m gone, you understand? I want you to launch fighters as soon as you’re high enough. It may take some time, we got some pretty loot out of the warehouses, but it’s also heavy.
Jason slid the canopy shut. As soon as the latches locked, his pulse slowed and his vision cleared. He changed from the man Jason Grant into the ace pilot Jazz. It happened every time he was in the pilot’s seat, no matter if he was flying a rickety old crop duster, or his own high performance fighter plane. The man Jason called it the pilot’s edge. The ace Jazz simply called it freedom.
The sound of a compressor starting up rolled around in the enclosed space of the silo. Hisses and sputtering from the construction holding the plane tight accompanied a slight vibration. Jazz felt the system building up pressure. The roar of the compressor became louder. Not much longer now. He pushed the starter button and after a short whine and sputter the Rolls Royce Morgana engine behind him howled to life. Jazz had flown a few Valiants before and instantly knew this puppy had been given some extra horsepower to play with.
Through the roar of the plane’s engine, Patrick and Walter watched the needle of the main pressure gauge inching towards the narrow green band in the dial. Patrick’s hand hovered above the switch activating the hatch closing off the silo and Walter’s was resting next to an armed switch positioned prominently in the middle of the control panel. The closer the needle came to the green band, the slower it seemed to go. They didn’t know how much time they had left before the Spooks came back, but it was close enough without having to wait in agony for some stupid gauge. After an eternity of seconds, the needle finally arrived in its green haven. Walter flicked the lights once and disarmed the launch switch. Immediately the roar of the engine swelled to a demonic roar of horsepower. A tornado coming from the propeller blasted Walter and Patrick who had to take their hands from the control panel and press them to their ears against the deafening noise.
Inside the Valiant’s cockpit Jason felt like being strapped to a wild bull while waiting for the launch. He was confident that, once up in the air, he would be able to get the whole thing under control. Another flashing of the overhead lights and an invisible giant suddenly kicked him merciless in the back. The walls of the silo around him blurred as he shot straight up into the shadows. As the roar of the plane rumbled like a roll of thunder, both pirates watched the plane disappear in the shadows above.  ‘Think he’ll make it?’
‘Hope so. Guess we’ll know soon enough. ’
They raised their heads in silence to watch the shadowy apex of the silo.

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Having your stomach lodged firmly between your ears does have its advantages. For one, it compresses your brain enough to keep it from panicking. Jazz could do little except to bear the elephantine g force pressing down on him and watch the cross beams of the launch tracks flash past. Up ahead in the shadows the big hatch on top of the silo raced towards him. The plane reached the end of the shaft and with a soft whoosh he was clear. For a whole second.
The black Spook zeppelin was near invisible against the night sky. If it hadn’t been for the soft glow of the gondola’s windows and the exhaust flames of her engines, Jazz wouldn’t have realized the airship was blocking his path until he was drawing his last breath full of helium.
The one second between being ejected into open air and smashing into thirty million cubic feet of lighter than air was just enough. Jazz yanked the Valiant into a hard right and skimmed the circumference of the battle zeppelin to within an inch. Leveling the fighter off into an inverted flight before he lost too much speed, he took in the situation fast as possible. A pilot’s situational awareness is the ability to know and keep track of everything happening around him in all dimensions. Not only where other planes are, but also their speed and heading. In a dogfight, it seperates the aces from the pilots.
There were two Spook zeppelins left after their skirmish with the Red Skulls, each escorted by half a dozen fighters. The one directly above the Estate (and almost responsible for Jazz’s early departure from the mortal coil) was in the lead and limping towards the tumbledown farmhouse; the other, missing a gasbag and half her engines trailed miles behind, laboring against the wind. Jazz switched on the radio and heard the first zeppelin hailing the control room and wondering why there wasn’t any reply. The element of surprise was certainly on his side, but he had precious little time to make use of it. A pack of Furies flew point for the limping Spook airship. All right, fighters first. Let’s see what this baby can do! he thought. He rolled right side up, arced into a battle turn and beared down on them like a nighthawk going for the kill.
Approaching them from behind, none of them even realized he was there. One of them lagged behind and Jazz aligned the Valiant until the Spook was dead in his sights. The twin sixty calibers opened up at his command and spewed a volley of fiery streams that lit up the night sky. The Fury caught fire and tumbled out of the sky.
Magnesium rounds, Jazz thought and smiled, Of course. A quick nose up and the next came within range. Another salvo, then another and the second plane blew up into a ball of fire. Even though Jazz managed to nick the tail of the third, it turned just in time to escape destruction.
The radio came alive with panic.
‘What the…?! This is the ISN Langley, who’s that shooting at us?’
‘There! The Valiant prototype! Where’d he come from?’
‘I don’t know! He just shot out of the ground like a bat out of hell!’
’Well, why didn’t you say anything, you idiot?’
This conversation continued for some time. Jazz ignored them. He was hot on the tail of the one that got away and almost had him again when the overhead sky ripped apart in a blue-yellow explosion. The shockwave buffeted the Valiant, but was too far away to do any real damage.
High-Ex rockets no less. Looks like these guys are playing hard to get! thought Jazz as he doggedly stayed on the third plane’s tail. The pilot tried to dive under the friendly zeppelin, luring him within turret range. Jazz cursed the lack of rockets on his own plane to finish this quickly. Instead his used the superior turning rate of the Valiant, gritting his teeth through the pressure of the g load and gained close on the Fury. As they passed underneath, a phalanx of turret fire rattled the nose of the Valiant before they cleared the battle zeppelin. In turn, Jazz blew the black Fury apart at point blank range. The acrid smell of burning oil intruded his close-fitting cockpit, but Jazz was unsure just whose engine it was from.
A jet of fire shot across his field of vision, leaving a red line of after image on his retinae, and detonated somewhere behind him. Jazz turned his guns towards the source and spotted three more Spooks coming for him at ten o’clock high. These were heavy hitters, twin engined Sanderson FB14 Vampires; powerful, heavily armed and a turn radius the size of Texas.
Even though the enemy had the height advantage, Jazz rolled around to intercept the Spook planes. There was no chance of winning a head on assault, even surviving was out of the question, but he wanted them to think he was reckless. It worked, they delayed opening fire until there was no way they could miss.
Acting on instinct, Jazz nosed the Valiant down and dove straight underneath them. Then, using the extra speed to his advantage, he pulled up, rolled over and performed a clean Immelman. This brought him directly behind his attackers and he opened fire immediately, not caring about precision. Lances of hellish light streaked out of his wings and into the Spooks. The first burst into flames, the second had his engines explode off his fuselage, taking half the tail with them. The third tried jinking his plane frantically to spoil Jazz’s aim. Too bad Vampires were as agile as a tank with wings. Jazz was just about to line up his sights when a sultry voice came through his radio.
‘Mon cheri, are you done swatting the flies yet?’
‘Bonnie, dear, I’m working on it. Give me time and I’ll tell when it’s safe to go play outside.’
‘Well, it is just that we’re a bit anxious to get underway. Patrick and Walter came back with the prisoners.’
Jazz nearly lost his prey when he heard. It took him to the edge of a black out to get behind him again.
‘What? For crying out loud, why?!’ he grunted, straining to keep his breath.
‘They said they left a homecoming gift behind for the Spooks. Something about lighting a nice beacon to guide them home. They wouldn’t say what exactly, but you know as well as I we better make ourselves scarce before this present unwraps itself.’
‘As much as I like their generosity, you do realize there is this strike zeppelin right on top of you and, oh yes, a bunch of fighters trying to air condition my plane. Start opening the hangar and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Merci beaucoup and good luck!’
He finished off the remaining Vampire by incinerating his left hand wing and sending him into an uncontrollable spin. Jazz straightened out and went back for the zeppelin. The escorts of the second airship could be here any second and he had precious little time to get rid of the big airship blocking the Damocles’ exit. How he was to do this without any rockets, let alone aerial torpedoes, was somewhat of a challenge. Jason ‘Jazz’ Grant liked challenges like that.
After climbing and turning until he was above and behind the Langley, Jazz swooped down on her stern. Ducking and weaving to avoid the left over turrets, he made a pass at her starboard engines. Two of them disintegrated under his guns before he was clear again.
Suddenly a giant I-shape made of light appeared in the dark meadows below, each half the size of a football field. The gargantuan doors of the underground hangar were opening.
A modest Hammerhead later Jazz attacked the port side nacelles and managed to take out all remaining three. Almost against his nature, Jazz was grateful for the Red Skulls. They had softened up the Spook zeppelins. Had they been in operational condition, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
The Langley threw a barrage of threats and turret fire at him, but they were helpless against the wind gently pushing them away from the Estate. With only one sputtering engine left on the whole airship, it simply drifted away from the hangar doors now half open beneath her.
Out of the ground, her underside illuminated by the bright hangar lights, the Damocles rose up into the night sky like a demon rising from the pit of Hell. By the time she was level with the other zeppelin, it was too far off to do any harm. Jazz wanted to cheer, but then he spotted the oncoming attack of the second zeppelin.

                                                                      ***

The ISN Roswell had bided her time. From a safe distance, she launched all airworthy planes to support her escort. Even though their armor was damaged during the fight with the Red Skulls, their strength lay in numbers, not stamina. Black fighter planes circled the crippled zeppelin like a horde of angry bees protecting their nest. The airship itself had ceased its descent to keep the height advantage.
Better watch out, Jazz thought to keep his calm, these guys are smarter than I thought. The Damocles was still vulnerable so he had to keep them away, not waste time trying to destroy them. Like a matador before a whole herd of charging bulls, Jazz arced the Valiant through a wide curve in front of the approaching swarm of Spook fighters and lured them away.
‘Say, laddie, you think you can make a pass over the hangar in about fifteen seconds?’ came Walter over the radio.
‘Why?’ hesitated Jazz, with bullets ricocheting off his tail.
‘We just thought your friends might enjoy the show. From up close.’
With a grin splitting his face in two, Jazz rolled into a steep dive straight for the cavernous hangar. ‘Gotcha, will do. I’m right on time.’
‘Oh, lest I forget, you have three seconds once you’re over the doors. After that… Well, just make sure you’re clear by then.’
‘Come again?!’
Before Walter could answer, the night lit up as if noon had arrived. Jazz felt it before he could hear it. His plane was suddenly in a world of thunder and turbulence. It was shoved away from the hangar by an invisible shockwave that made every joint in the Valiant groan and creak. The flock of enemy planes behind him was caught by a mountainous fireball that flared up out of the ground and swallowed them whole.
Fighting to keep his plane under control, Jazz managed to stay clear of the carnage of detonations and fire being disgorged by the underground base. From the corner of his eye, he saw the old farmhouse going up in the air as the explosions reached the main elevator shaft. Jazz thumbed the radio.
‘I have to admit, guys, great job. Just a little more warning next time, if you don’t mind.’
‘We aim to please,’ came the reply, positively dripping with smugness.
The Valiant didn’t sound good at all. Her engine was stuttering and jet black smoke billowed after him. Scanning the area, Jazz tried to get a fix on the enemy airship. Again the Spooks had put their time to good use. With her fighters carbonized, their only available option left was to head off the Damocles. The Spooks tried everything to get above her, but the pirate zeppelin managed to climb just enough in time. Only a few more seconds and they would be level, one rising, the other descending and both too low to launch fighters. There was no other choice; the Firebirds would have to confront the Spooks. Jazz knew what they had to do and immediately gave the orders. The mechanical whine of the broadside cannon hatches sliding open sounded through the sky. It was all or nothing now.
The Roswell was first to open fire. One after the other, her massive guns boomed. The Damocles immediately returned fire. The opposing flanks of the zeppelins became obscured as the sky between the two aerial juggernauts filled with smoke and thunder. Flashes of light glared and died away during the defilade. Jazz’s knuckles went white squeezing the Valiant’s stick as he was forced to watch and wait to see who would win this clash of titans.
The last of the cannons went quiet and Jazz’ heart sank as he spotted the bow of the Roswell breaking through the smoke first. The airship continued its descent and - no, that wasn’t right. He craned his neck to see better. Instead of just one gasbag gone, the Spook zeppelin was now missing three in total and actually plummeted towards the ground with her stern engulfed in flames.
The Damocles didn’t get out of the fight unscathed either. Amazingly enough her gasbags survived, although they showed several punctures. Three engines were destroyed, along with an equal number of turrets and two broadside cannons were smashed to bits. A gaping hole in her flank showed internal fires raging through the gondola. In contrast to the Roswell however, the Damocles continued her climb to safety. Jazz let out a breath of air he didn’t know he was holding. They were safe. The Spooks were either destroyed or powerless to pursue.
‘Open her up, I’m coming in.’ he radioed and finally dared to relax for the first time since they launched to get to the president of the People’s Collective.

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