Bubble Energy Taken by Force

Jet

 "Everybody out. I need to reduce our weight. You should be safe here."

"But what are you going to do?" Frank asked after jumping off.

"I'm going to dismember that blasted bird before it get away. Shields up!"

"Don't aim for the cabin. The collision may injure occupants inside."

"You don't have to lock my controls, treating me like a child. I was just planning to knock the wings off. Just because I'm in a bad mood from being shot at all afternoon doesn't mean that I'm gonna create a bloodbath."

"I'm programmed only to ignore commands that causes injuries. Suspending privileges is not my methodology. The most plausible explanation is that you broke the control."

"Computer, aim for the tail. Tear the wings off. What's happening to our thrusters? We're just drifting."

"Thrusters' guidance control wire is sending corrupt signals, causing it to revert to safe mode. Trying a workaround."

"Look out! Don't hover so close to the engine's intake. Rats! Too late! You know; I'm amazed how much this sounds like a great, big vacuum cleaner sucking up a shirt and getting clogged. Good thing our shield's diameter is bigger than the engine. Now what?"

"The force field is glued to the intake. We can't disengaged without shutting off the shield."

"No, keep it on. I don't want to risk getting pulled into spinning blades of death. Why couldn't the shields abrade the engine in the same way it did to poor Frank's cruiser?"

"They are disabled enough. The bubble creates a severe drag. It should prevent them from reaching takeoff velocity from their rather short runway. Unfortunately, the shield lets enough gas molecules to pass through for the jet engine to works efficiently. The barrier's weaving is designed that way to prevent suffocating the occupant."

The luxurious twin-engine jet continued taxiing. They didn't show any concern about the law of physics being stacked up against them. That made Stephen nervous.

"I'm plotting the plane's route. They're driving towards the nearby town. We should reach its center within two minutes. Waiting for instructions."

Stephen wished he had an inspiration. The enemies certainly proved themselves to be professionals. If not the best, then they may be close to it. They will somehow get the bird in the air. He closed his eyes and tried concentrating. "Come on! With my mind enhanced, thoughts must be able to flow crystal clear, diamond sharp. I must come up with something before they radio ahead to command their batteries to fire depleted uranium shells. For all I know, they may own the whole town. Radio! Of course! Computer, fire them Worship Machine bolts at every antenna on this plane."

"Amazing grace how sweet the sound..." the lightning buzzed.

Jagged arcs exploded with blinding blue flashes after brushing against the stubby aerials. Surge protectors were no match to instrumental hymnals. "Hey! They're melting. Maybe with luck we'll disable the bird—eventually. I still have a bad feeling about this."

It was a difficult job, taking several seconds to melt each antenna. Then he slagged pitot tubes and static wicks, anything sticking out. Meanwhile, the jet rolled through the center of town. It dominated the cramped road. Cars dodged out of the way while drivers noisily expressed their frustrations. Pedestrians, not believing their eyes, stood in shock.

"Hi kid," Stephen said while waving. The well-dressed boy snapped a few pictures with his Nikon D3 SLR camera and waved back. His father waved too. "Can you please toss some rocks into the engines' intakes?" The townspeople seemed reluctant in causing trouble. They probably saw stacks of machine guns through the jet's windows. Even the sheriff wouldn't go near the plane.

The pilot increased the engines to a throaty roar while making a turn. A storefront's picture window blew inwards. Shards tore through merchandise and banged against the counter where terrified people huddled behind. Trash cans tumbled down the street, spilling out its contents. The pilot made one more turn to enter a long, straight road devoid of cars—perfect for an improvised runway.

"Can you try dragging their jet off this road?"

"Thrusters are still offline."

Both engines growled at takeoff speed. Slowly, the plane struggled to gain speed as it accelerated down the highway in a thunderous bellow.

In amazement, Stephen stared at the furiously spinning fan much too close to his face. Deeply buzzing blades blurred into a perfectly smooth glassy surface. Sun reflected off the metallic but transparent surface. Inner machinery behind massive turbine blades could still be clearly seen. "You know, I bet this looks like the inside of my father's casket, if he could see me now in battle."

Wheels lifted a few centimeters above the asphalt. Immediately afterwards, the pilot raised the gears. Painfully, the overburdened jet gained altitude. A double-trailer truck sped under the wobbling jet. Clearance could be measured by centimeters. Multiple cars spun off. Dust clouded the rapidly shrinking road.