Aurora - Blood Moon Tribute Pt. 10

Cassandra tilted her head. "Is that good or bad?"

"Neither. It's frikken' fantastic!"

Breaking away, Beck ran under the tail to the left side of the fuselage, then disappeared up the airstairs. "Was she, like, being sarcastic?" Cassandra asked, as Watson shepherded her, arm over her shoulder, around the plane.

"No." Watson said, shaking his head, "She's serious. It is."

"Sometimes I get the feeling they think I'm an idiot. Lady Rebekah and that other girl."

"Ally?" Watson asked, and Cassandra nodded. "No. They don't. They're just overwrought. It's been a shitty few weeks for all of us."

"I hope she's not jealous. Lady Rebekah I mean. I'm not a threat you know. I know my place. I'm just a high-class hooker, like everyone says."

Watson opened his mouth to say, 'you're anything but', when Beck appeared in the doorway. "She's all fuelled up!"

A voice yelled, "HEY!" and everyone jumped. Two security guards, unarmed lock-rattlers in white shirts and navy pants, sub-continent types, were marching towards the plane. "You people! You cannot be in here!"

Straight away Watson knew these were underpaid contractors, merely here to deter the honest. He pulled his hood up, hiding his face in the shadows, and raised his hand. "Halt! In the name of the king!"

The guards pulled up, looking uncertain. "This airplane belongs to Mister Zhang," one announced, "not the king."

"I know who it belongs to!" Watson scowled. "I came here in the damned thing. I'll have you know Mister Zhang is a close personal friend."

The guards shook their heads, unimpressed. "That does not matter. This hangar is off-limits. We will have to ask you to leave."

The old man looked down his nose at them. "No! I'm the one who's telling YOU to leave. Both of you. Be gone. Unless you want to spend the rest of your days working as tea-boys."

Fresh from tending to her feminine essentials, Selene hurried past, bowing to the men, then pulled up under Watson's elbow. The operatives swapped looks, then one turned away, speaking into a radio.

The old man experienced a sudden inspiration. "Lady Rebekah!"

Up in the cockpit, Beck was frantically throwing off her heavy black Abayah. All in her golden cape, the hood pulled up over her head, she appeared at the door, then glided down the airstairs with as much imperious disdain as she could muster. Waiting at the bottom, Cassandra bowed her head and went down on one knee. "What's the meaning of this?" Beck demanded, driving her voice as low as it would go.

The two brown gentlemen blanched. The spider silk cape had been all over the news, though only snippets of the fabled cloth had so far been shown. And one or two of the diamonds, that now glittered like stars in the sky. "Do you have any idea who she is?" Watson growled.

The men swapped another glance, each hoping if the shit hit the royal fan, the other might wind up being fingered.

"WELL?" Watson barked, and the men jumped. "This is Her Highness, Lady Rebekah, consort to the king. Even laying eyes on her could get you both hanged. And I will see to it you are. For I am Hassan, her personal seer."

"Sir," a guard said, resolutely averting his eyes, "My Lady... we are simply doing our job."

The guards flinched as Watson's arm shot out, fingers clawed, the old man channelling Darth Vader. Rounding on him, Selene dragged his arm down. "My Lord, NO!" she pleaded, "I beg you, spare them." Hurrying to the men, in a quiet, conspiratorial voice she said, "For god's sake get out of here, before he does something we all regret. Go! Now! I will plead with Lady Rebekah to have you spared."

Erring on the side of self-preservation, the men turned, then set off back the way they'd come. "That was her!" one hissed to the other.

"Then what's she doing here? With that crazy old freak? And those two young girls?"

"Handmaidens?"

"Maybe, but where's the rest of her entourage? Where's her security?"

"But it's her, right? You saw the cape."

"Something doesn't feel right. Did you call for backup?"

"They said they're on break. They can be here twenty minutes."

"Good. Let's get out of here. And if that old idiot's just making shit up, let HIM swing."

The four imposters watched them go, then fell about in eye-rolling relief. "Really, Damon?" Beck said. "Hassan?"

Watson cleared his throat, summoning a favourite character from Bugs Bunny. "No one shall pass Hassan!"

Beck palmed her forehead. "And doing a Darth Vader? I mean, really..."

Watson shrugged. "Well what else was I gonna do? Stand-up comedy?"

"That was stand-up comedy." Beck said. "Nice touch, Sellie. Pleading on their behalf. Even I teared up a little."

Cassandra raised a hand. "What about me?"

"You?" Beck echoed, then feigned gushing admiration. "If that wasn't the most courtly bow I've ever seen."

Cassandra buffed her nails then studied the results. "I took drama at school you know. I got an 'A'."

"Yeah? Well, nice try, but I don't think that's the last we're gonna see of them."

"Why not?" Watson frowned, "You are Lady Rebekah, are you not?"

"But my hubby's no longer king. Which means I'm no longer queen. And when word gets out..."

The old man gave a dismissive flick of the fingers. "The coup's not over till the fat lady sings. Think you can fly this thing?"

"Well I'll give it a red-hot go."

"What about the helicopter?"

"What about it?"

"Well... which should we take? Stolen helicopter you don't know how to fly... or stolen jet you sort of know how to?"

Beck turned and set off up the airstairs. "We'll take a vote. Could you and the girls get the hangar doors open? I've got a checklist to read."

Watson called after her as she turned left into the cockpit. "And put your bag back on. Just in case."

Beacons flashed and alarms bleeped as the hangar doors rolled slowly aside, revealing the northern sky, still velvet black with a sprinkling of stars. The desert air was cool and fragrant in that final hour before sunrise, before that great, plasmic orb turned the sky into a furnace. Watson inhaled to the soles of his feet, listening to the birdsong. His favourite time of day on Aurora, watching the sun come up over an endless sweep of empty ocean. Standing at his side, Cassandra snapped her fingers, and said, "Oh...", then darted away, returning a moment later with Beck's borrowed helmet and night vision goggles. "She might need these." she said, turning the ensemble over.

Watson shook his head. "Who knew, under such a gorgeous exterior?"

Cassandra cocked her head, looking up at him. "What?"

For one dizzy moment he was tempted to bend over and kiss her, but they were directly in front of the jet and Beck was up in the cockpit. "Oh, nothing. It's just that, I had no idea you were so flippin' capable."

"What's that mean?"

"What's it mean? It means if I'm ever in the shit, I want you in my corner."

They returned to the cockpit, where Beck, in the left-hand seat was dry-running the checklists, from start to systems check, through to taxi and takeoff. Once they were airborne, she could wing it. Preparations complete, it was just a matter of hurry up and wait.

Watson and the girls climbed into the luxurious cab, where Watson put his feet up. As much as she was dying to cuddle up to him, Cassandra kept her distance, in no two minds as to where his loyalties lay. But that kiss from Rebekah. Maybe there was another path to his door.

Once again, just as he was drifting off, the old man was wrenched back to semi-consciousness. "Damon?" Beck called.

Watson got up, groaning, and went to the cockpit, Cassandra appearing seconds later under his arm.

"What do you reckon?" Beck asked.

"About what?"

"About flashing up the APU? She said one hour and it's way past that. She's gotta be close."

Watson shrugged, the bottom falling out of his heart. By his estimation, the odds of ever laying eyes on the feisty little shit-magnet again were somewhere between zero and highly unlikely. "What's your plan?"

Beck looked at him, her face pale and drawn. "Crank this bastard up at the first hint of sunlight."

"What then?"

"I'll figure it out."

"No, really. What are our options?"

Beck worked her shoulders. She hadn't really thought about it. "Head across the border, I guess. Due east should do it. Next door sounds like a fairly civilised country, and I'm sure they'd love this aeroplane. Then maybe Roger can come and get us. Then we can come back for Ally."

Watson rubbed his face, then yawned. "It's up to you, Moosh. Do what you think."

Beck got the batteries on, then cranked up the miniature jet engine in the rear of the plane. Confined to the hangar, the din was overwhelming. "Well..." Watson said, "If nothing else does, I bet that will get their attention."

Cassandra leant into the cockpit and held up the helmet. "Did you want this, Lady Rebekah?"

"My helmet? I'd completely forgotten."

"She went and got it specially." Watson said, voice raised to make himself heard.

"My Lady Cassandra." Beck said, looking up. "You are one in a million." Something snagged her attention, and she pulled herself forward to peer out the windscreen.

"What?" Watson asked, stooping to get a view. "What are you looking at?"

"I thought I saw something." she said. "In the air. Just above the horizon." Beck searched the dark and her arm shot out. "LOOK! IT'S AN AIRCRAFT!"

Watson and Cassandra crowded into the cockpit, peering through the windscreen into the dark. "Mmm... yeah... nahh... I can't see anything."

"I saw something," Beck cried, "I swear. Something flying."

After a moment or two of heavy breathing tension, the old man straightened. "Might have been some birds. They're waking up, you can hear them."

Cassandra squeezed her shoulder and Beck smeared her eyes. "Fucking Ally." Beck sniffled, "Why did she have to do this to me? I'll never be able to forgive myself if I leave her behind."

Watson tousled her hair. "It's Ally we're talking about, Moosh. Remember? She only knows one way of doing things. Her way."

An odd screeching noise penetrated the hiss of the APU. Beck threw her hands up, and Watson reared back, as some huge, shapeless mass slid across the apron, gushing sparks and trailing smoke. It came to rest almost directly in front of them, smoke pouring up out of the fuselage, to be thoroughly masticated by whirling rotors. The rear door opened and several figures tumbled out, darting clear of the aircraft before gathering in a huddle. Watson looked at Beck and they chorused, "We'll take the jet."

"Quickly!" Beck said, "You go and get them. I'm starting up."

The old man bolted from the cockpit with Selene and Cassandra in tow, and ran to the open doors of the hangar. Standing just in the light, he jerked his arm, beckoning.

********************************************************************

Ally was last up the stairs, pausing to close and lock the door before piling into the cockpit. Dropping the jumpseat, she spun it into position, then beckoned Aisha. Handing her weapon to a strange old man, Aisha sat, arms up out of the way while Ally swiftly and deftly secured her straps. While Beck was busy starting the second engine, Ally jumped onto the right-hand seat, then buckled her harness and plugged-in her helmet. "Flea! Wrong aeroplane!"

Beck extended a finger, glaring, almost overcome with relief. "You, young lady, are in sooo much trouble."

Ally blew a raspberry. "Pfft! If you can't take a joke you shouldn't have come here."

"I'm serious, dickhead. I've been worried sick about you."

"Tell someone who gives a fuck. And did anyone tell you? You got the wrong plane?"

"I really liked the colour." Beck sniffed. "And what's with the footy team? Have you been selling seats on the side?"

Ally looked over her shoulder into the cab, where Watson and the girls were busy securing the new arrivals. "That's my crew. And my screw. And a mass-murdering mate of mine."

Beck looked up from her labours. "Seriously?"

Ally pointed at her chin. "See my face."

"From the prison?"

Ally nodded.

"Should I be worried?"

"Only if you're a kitten-killing, girl-burning, standover Russian rapist."

Beck gave her head a little shake. "Not last time I looked. What about her?" Beck gestured with her eyes at Aisha behind her. "Doesn't want to sit with them?"

"That's Aisha. She's our new copilot." Ally tapped her ear and Aisha pulled her headset on. "Aisha, this is Beck. Beck, this is Aisha."

Head down, Beck said, " 'Sup." while Aisha sat staring at a fold of diamond-studded cloth, peeking out from under Beck's dirty black robes.

The thundering exhaust of 2 jet engines, even at idle, shook the entire hangar, swamping it with dust and grit and jet fuel fumes, dislodging birds' nests and debris from the lofty ceiling. "Where are we up to?" Ally asked.

"Fucked if I know." Beck intoned, "I'm just making it up as I go."

Ally patted her head. "Got your goggles? We're gonna be needing them."

Beck felt behind her seat and pulled out the helmet. She shucked her golden hood up and Aisha's eyes went wide, her worst suspicions confirmed. Somehow, this little bleacher girl had stolen the queen's fabled cape. Everyone knew the thing, the whole country was on tenterhooks waiting to see it. She was a thief. A criminal. And Aisha was an officer of the crown. About to release her harness and go for her rifle, Aisha thought, 'She's a criminal? So am I.' The king's stolen helicopter, the queen's stolen mantle. What did it matter?

"What's the plan?" Beck asked.

Ally shrugged. "You're the captain." After a few seconds' silence she backed down. "There's no wind. Turn left out of the apron onto the taxiway. We'll use runway One Five."

"Ready for taxi?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Beck advanced the throttles and the engines spooled up with a howl. The thundering jet exhaust drove tool chests, work stands, tables, chairs and ladders crashing into the rear wall, pummelling the armed security who'd just broken into the hangar. The engines reached breakaway thrust and the big jet eased forward, out of the wrecked building into the night. They turned left inside the smoking remains of the helicopter, almost clipping a wing, then set off at a jog across the apron onto the taxiway.

It was all so familiar yet at the same time utterly alien, the jet's instruments and controls, everything almost, but not quite, where they were used to. They dropped their goggles, peering over the instrument hood at the grainy green landscape. "Flaps?" Ally asked.

"Try fifteen."

"What heading do you want?"

"Let's go east. Remember what I said about Ras Al Darma? Nice prisons."

"A bit soon, Flea." Ally grated, "A bit soon."

"Oh, right. Umm... what should we use for V-one?"

"Give a fuck. Go full power and hold her down till she wants to fly."

The piano-keys of the threshold came into view. The jet trundled down the runway at a jaunty clip, twice as fast as they would dare to taxi the Stream. Ally heaved a deep breath. "Well, I think we've run out of excuses. What do we need to fly, Aisha?"

Aisha jumped. "Miss Ally?"

"What's the magic spell?"

"Umm... CLs?"

"Angle of attack, right."

"Half rhos?"

Ally looked out her window. "Atmosphere, check. What next?"

"Vee-squareds?"

"Captain Flea's in charge of that. She's gonna wind this baby up as fast as it can go."

Aisha's dusky face lit up with a grin. "And S's."

Ally looked out the window again. "And there's a wing. How about you, Flea? You got a wing?"

Beck shot Ally a glance. "You have got some explaining to do, Missy."

Ally nodded. "Ohhh yes! Yes I do."

Beck stood on the brakes slowing for the turn onto the threshold. "No fucking around, Flea. Keep her on the roll. The second we line up give her the berries."

Beck nodded, licking her lips. The runway centreline swung round onto the nose and, shaking in every fibre, Beck advanced the power levers. Engines roared. The jet surged forward, acceleration pushing them back in their seats like a big, fat foot. "Thaaaaat's it, Padawan," Ally said, "just like I showed you." Digits were running down the airspeed tape. "Fifty knots." Ally called calmly.

Movement caught Beck's eye. Flashing lights converged on the runway from the right, reds and blues. And lots of them, when she looked under the goggles, barely 500 meters away. "Ally! Lights!"

Ally looked up then hammer fisted the instrument hood. "FUCK!"

When Beck pulled the throttles back and stood on the brakes, Ally punched her hard in the bicep. "There's not enough room!" Beck shrilled as Ally firewalled the throttles.

"On your right!" Ally said. "High-speed exit to foxtrot."

"We're too fast!"

"Just do it!" Ally snapped, then keyed the PA. "You idiots down the back hold on."

Beck took a breath and held it. The exit raced towards them, a 45-degree turn to the right, followed by a 45-degree left turn onto a taxiway. The lights of the makeshift blockade- SUVs and several armoured cars- loomed large in the goggles. Ally yelled, "GO!" Rudder, aileron, differential brakes. The jet skidded sideways as Beck gave it all she had, the smoking tyres almost rolling off the rims to a collective scream from the cab. No time to celebrate before she had to swerve left again, in another spectacular rendition of 'Fuck The Limitations.'

Beck swivelled her head, watching the roadblock sail past her window, pale faces following them as they shot down the taxiway. Eyes front, she giggled. "The engineers are gonna be pissed."

"Fly it like you stole it," Ally said flatly, reaching for the landing gear, "and fuck the engineers. One fifty knots. I'm gonna raise the gear. Hold her down in the ground-effect till the end of the runway. Then I suggest a right turn to put us out over the water."

"Beck nodded. "Wilco."

The gear came up and the jet accelerated smoothly to two hundred knots. Popping up to 200 feet, Beck rolled into a forty-five degree angle of bank turn, over the middle of the city, high-rise buildings towering over them. The slats and flaps came up and everything went quiet, fast and smooth, the sleek machine back in its element. "See," Ally said, head down duelling with the computer, "nothing to it."

Beck was almost hyperventilating. "I think I just wet myself."

"Schoolgirl."

"If I was a schoolgirl I'd have all of your money. Is your buddy still with us?"

Ally looked over her shoulder. Aisha sat, clutching her seat with one hand, Beck's headrest with the other. She was grinning. "Aisha, Honey? The skipper wants to know if you're still with us."

Aisha pushed her mike up and the sound of heavy breathing filled their ears. "That was... that was... incredible."

Ally shook her head. "You must be easily impressed." She looked past Aisha down the back at some very pale faces. "You guys right down there?"

There was a crunch of static as Watson, on headset, keyed his mike. "We're okay." he huffed. "But those idiots you were talking to have all bailed out."

Ally gave him a thumbs up and turned away grinning. "They were dead-weight anyway. You guys cool?"

The lights of Ab Aldafra fell rapidly behind. They were still low, with their airspeed nudging the barber pole, the two hulking jet engines gobbling fuel. "What should we do?" Beck asked.

Ally shrugged. "Mm nnn know. Get to flight levels, so these donks aren't sucking in the sides of the fuel tanks."

"Dial up forty-one grand, we'll do a cruise climb."

"Sold for forty grand," Ally nodded. "To the stroppy little strumpet in the fancy gold dressing gown."

As the altitude wound up through ten thousand feet, Beck and Ally ditched their helmets. Beck found the pilot's baseball cap and pulled it on. Watson appeared at the door, still shrouded in his robes. "Well that was interesting."