Dateline

La Flèche, T plus 18 hours, 47 minutes

On the Rhumb Line, 117 degrees West

It would be here very soon, and they weren't even off the ground yet. Hadn't even started the engines! Cat was in the cockpit, as ready as she could be to get the experimental supersonic transport off the ground. The design team had named it La Flèche. It was an apt name, reflecting its speed and form, and sat here on the runway it looked poised and alert.

Able couldn't quite believe his luck. Cat had flown fast jets in the Navy before turning to commercial flying, so she had experience in piloting a supersonic aircraft. It had seemed like a miracle of serendipity when he found out.

They had towed the experimental aircraft out to the runway threshold so that it would use as little fuel as possible on take-off. They would need every drop to get where they intended to go, and even then it would be fifty-fifty if they made it. One thing at a time, however...

"Listen. We talked about this. I can only take ten people. Sure, we could squeeze fifteen aboard, but if we do that, there's no way we'll reach land. The plane will run out of fuel and crash into the sea, so it's a pointless argument. Even ten is a push. I know that's not what you want to hear, but Christ, it's all I can offer. I'm sorry."

Not everyone had come out to the runway. General Taylor, his leg broken, had already said he was staying behind. Through some feat of loyalty Able couldn't quite fathom, his two aides had elected to stay with him.

"Cat's flying it, and I'm going 'cause it's my plane. If you think that sounds selfish, then, yes, it is. Kelly comes too, and her daughter. I'm not counting Sunny, so that leaves seven places. Mike, you and your team kept the plane safe. I'm offering you a space, of course..."

He stopped there, finding it hard to say what he thought about who should go. By rights, the Delta Force crew had earned their places by getting into a firefight protecting the plane in the first place.

"Alison, you're coming too, get aboard."

Behind him, the sound of an engine spooling up caused him to look round. Cat was peering through the cockpit window, pointing urgently at her watch. Under his breath, he muttered, "Goddammit, I didn't ask to be executioner." Some of the Delta Force guys looked pretty grim, but that might just be their natural demeanour. He was worried they might try to take the plane by force. It had been a worry in the back of his mind for the past hour, when he'd first voiced the need to leave some people behind.

"I'll stay."

Able looked round to see who had spoken. It was the airport guy, Aaron. He was looking up into the eastern sky, hands in pockets, like he had no care in the world.

"I never expected to get this far anyway. I've no family. No kids or whatever." Able was conscious enough of his own selfish sense of self preservation to be a little ashamed by comparison.

"Nah, you're going. All of you." Mike stepped forwards and smiled at Able, Ellie and Aaron. "The boys already decided to stick together. Whatever happens, we'll face it as a team."

Able struggled to find a reply, but was saved by the second engine screaming into life, and then Mike was gently pushing him towards the steps and onto the plane. Aaron followed him up, shaking hands with the Delta guys before climbing up and ducking through the door.

Ellie, once more taking on the role of Stewardess, shut the door and made it fast. He looked at the pale and worried faces around him, said, "There's seats at the back. Go strap in and make yourselves comfortable. I'll be up front."

In the cockpit, Able did into the co-pilots seat.

"They ain't coming?" Cat tipped her head towards the Delta Force crew, lined up at the edge of the runway, vague shapes caught in the flash of anti-collision lights.

"They elected to stay."

Cat switched the cockpit lights on so that they could see her and saluted. They returned the salute, and as they did so, a golden hue began to light up the sky and ground. Then they were waving frantically, pointing behind and waving them on.

"Go go go!"

Able wondered who it was that was shouting, then found it was himself. Cat had already released the brakes and pushing the throttles forward, her face set from and determined, lime she was going into battle once more.

The engines reached a crescendo, the dials showing 100% thrust, then deepened into a stomach rumbling roar as the afterburner kicked in.

"Whoop!"

Cat was yelling with glee, the acceleration pushing her back into her seat like a drag car doing the quarter mile. "She's got some kick, ain't she?"

Above and around them, the sky glowed gold. Able could see the runway and desert off either side; buildings, scrub; the wreckage of the transport as it flashed by. The nose of La Flèche rose and the engines took on a deeper note as they bit cleaner air. Cat raised the wheels the moment they left the ground and then, unexpectedly, lowered it again. They thundered along the runway several feet above the concrete, picking up speed all the time, and flashed over the perimeter fence so low that Able swore loudly.

"How close it it?" asked Cat. Able tore his eyes away from the ground speeding by beneath and peered behind through the side window.

"Close!" He could see it, charging towards the airfield, a golden line across the desert, closing on them fast. "A few miles I reckon."

Able looked at the airspeed indicator, saw it was pushing past 400. "Jesus, are we going to make it?"

Cat didn't answer, her concentration taken up with flying La Flèche like it was an F-15 on a mission. Able looked behind once more. "We need to go faster. Faster!"

"I know! Want to get out and push?"

He stopped looking at the airspeed, now above six hundred and still not enough to outrun the coming disaster, and turned once more to look out the window behind. "Holy... It's close. Really close! Oh lord..." It was approaching more slowly, but still gaining. How fast would they need to go? He did the maths in his head. The answer came back at something just over seven hundred miles per hour. Everything was lit up brightly, but still they kept accelerating and the relative speeds began to even out. It was so close! As they matched speed, it couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet behind. La Flèche had reached the same speed as Earth's rotation; was starting to pull ahead. Hope blossomed in his chest. Then, with peculiar change in tone, the engine sounds dropping in note and a shock wave that sent up dust from the desert floor, forming a bright halo around the aircraft, La Flèche pushed through the sound barrier and went supersonic.