Assignment: Avalon

Chapter Thirteen: Flight

Someone moaned; it took Kyla a moment to realize it was her. Melodan's breathing was harsh and ragged, but Tor whispered, "He's bought us time. They'll think he was alone. And now I know how we're going to get out of here."

In that moment, Kyla's felt something for Tor again at last: pure, blinding hatred. She jumped at him, pummeling his chest with her fists, only the grief clogging her throat preventing her from screaming at him. He just stood there, taking it, until Melodan pulled her back. "There's no time for this!" Melodan whispered savagely in her ear. "Save it for later, when we're out of here!" Kyla kept struggling. Melodan shook her, hard. "Kyla, stop!"

She subsided, seething with fury and pain. "Where?" she heard Melodan ask Tor.

Tor pointed to another gantry several dozen metres distant and headed that way in a crouching run. The light pooled around the spaceport buildings didn't extend that far; he was all-but-invisible the moment he left their side.

Melodan took Kyla's arm. "Stay with us, Kyla," she said. "Don't dim out now."

Kyla shook her free. "I'm fine," she snarled. Her anger gave her strength. She followed her brother across the pavement, away from the Forcers surrounding Vik's motionless form, without even looking back.

Crouching in darkness beside the second gantry, Tor leaned close to Kyla and Melodan and whispered, "There's an entire squadron fueled, armed, and waiting on the flight line. It's due to fly to the Battlefield tomorrow. I was supposed to be part of it." He took a deep, ragged breath. "We'll take one of the two-seater bombers."

"There are three of us," Melodan said.

"Two can ride in the bombardier's seat," he said tersely. "it won't be comfortable, but it's possible. With four it wouldn't have been."

Kyla wanted to hit him again but restrained herself.

Later, she thought. Later, there'll be a reckoning.

#

Melodan still hadn't regained her breath when Tor led them off again, this time making no effort to be quiet or stay concealed, putting all his energy into speed. Melodan and Kyla trailed by five metres as he reached the nearest plane in a group of six lined up wingtip-to-wingtip in front of their hangars. He climbed into the back cockpit and pointed them to the front one. Kyla scrambled up first and settled herself, then Melodan sat down on her lap, hearing her grunt.

"We're heavy," Tor said as Melodan struggled to buckle the unfamiliar harness over both of them. "We're going to need a long run to get airborne. We may get shot at. Then we have to make sure no one can follow us. See that bombsight?"

Melodan studied the panel before her. She had a duplicate set of flight controls, a cluster of navigation and communications instruments, and a small round screen with graduated crosshairs. "I see it."

"As we come back over the flight line I'll be strafing—that should knock out a few planes and keep the ground crews' heads down. We're carrying four racks of scatterfires. Once you see airplanes on the screen hit the red switches one after the other. Then hang on."

I hope we can, Melodan thought, pitying Kyla beneath her if they pulled any high-G maneuvers. But there was nothing else to be done. "Ready?" she asked Kyla.

"Ready," Kyla said tightly, and Melodan suddenly remembered that Kyla was the only one of them who had never flown.

"You'll be all right," Melodan assured her, then raised her voice for Tor. "Let's do it."

"Right." The exhausts banged and belched blue fire and the engine exploded into raucous, throbbing life, rattling Melodan's teeth. The sweet smell of burning alcohol wafted over her.