Aurora - Blood Moon Tribute Pt. 10

"PIC?" Beck snorted. "He was game."

"Choppers do it opposite to us." Ally said, "Right hand seat is PIC. He talked me through the start-up and everything. I can sort of remember it. Hovering was a handful, but once we got going, forward flight was pretty much what I'm used to."

Beck looked at her old man. "What do you think?"

"Pretty long shot."

Ally shot him a glare. "You got a better idea?"

"Well," Watson said, "if you're just gonna kill us..."

"Well fuck you, Damon." Ally fumed. "Don't worry, when I get home, I'll make sure to send you a postcard."

"Stop it you two." Beck snapped. "That's not helping."

"Yep!" Watson nodded, "No, you're right. If Ally's willing to give it a go." He craned his neck, looking up the mountain. "What is it? A two or three hundred-meter climb?"

Cassandra lay a hand on his arm. "But Gideon. No one's supposed to go on the mountain. It's prohibited."

Watson looked at the delicate little hand as Ally rolled her eyes. "But Dideon..." she mocked, "nyin nyin nyin nyin nyibited."

Watson raised his hand. "Ally, shoosh." He took Cassandra's hands. "No one will blame you if you want to stay behind." he said, silently hoping she would. He'd come for Beck and Ally, not some gaggle of hapless, helpless, homeless hangers-on. If they could just ditch the extras, there would be less on his conscience when it all came to grief. He looked at Hope and Floraliza. "That goes for you as well. If you want to stay behind. We don't even know if the helicopter's there-"

"It is." Cassandra nodded. "I'm pretty sure."

"Well, even if it is, we don't even know if we can get the thing going, so-"

"We can." Ally said. "I'm pretty sure."

"Look!" Watson huffed, getting nowhere. "This is just one more stupid idea in a Mardi Gras procession of stupid ideas. Billionaire psychopath. What was I thinking?"

Cassandra touched his arm again and Beck clenched her jaw. "Well, I believed you, Gideon."

Watson palmed his forehead. "That's not the point."

"No." Beck said, getting back on-topic, "Damon's right. It's not worth you sticking your necks out. I'm in a world of pain if I get caught. Damon too, I guess, if they do any digging."

Then Ally spoke up. "And I'm an escaped political prisoner, let's not forget."

Beck knitted her brows. "Political prisoner?"

"Well what else would you call me? I didn't rob a bank. I didn't kill anyone. Yet."

"Whatever." Beck said. "All I'm saying is, if there's any chance of escape we ought to give it a go. But you other guys."

Cassandra looked at her blinking. "Are you trying to ditch me?"

"Just giving you the choice."

"But... I wanna stay with Gi-"

Beck raised a hand, cutting her off. "His name is NOT... Gideon. It's Damon."

"I don't care what his name is. I wanna stay with him."

Beck narrowed her eyes. "You do know I'm his partner, don't you? As in, we live together. And sail around South Pacific, having rampant sex?" Floraliza's eyes popped as Beck carried on. "When we're not gallivanting around the world that is, pretending to be virgins and billionaires. And he came all this way to rescue me. Rescue us. You know all that, don't you?"

Well, she did now. In spite of the news, Cassandra hugged the old man's arm. "I'm not trying to steal him." she said, and Watson felt the tiniest bit crestfallen. "Honest."

"Just so you know." Beck said flatly. "When this is all over."

"Can we still be friends?"

Ally rolled her eyes. Again. "Shouldn't we be making a move?"

Beck heaved a fortifying breath, formulating a question to which she already knew the answer. "Hope? Floraliza? What do you want to do?"

"If we stay here we will die." Floraliza said, her eyes big and dark in the moonlight.

"Both of us." Hope confirmed.

"If you come with us you might die." Beck pointed out.

"Together." Hope nodded. "I would like that."

Ally looked at her naked wrist. "Tick tock."

"It's gonna be a bit of a scramble." Watson said, scaling the hillside with his eyes. "Try and stay in sight of each other."

"Hope." Beck said, "Can you spare your niqab?"

The African shot her a look of enquiry.

"For Ally. That blue dress sticks out like a sore thumb."

"No!" Ally said flatly. "I'm wearing Sook's blood, and I'll wear it with pride."

"But-"

"I said no! Sook took her chances, so will I."

Beck opened her mouth to argue and Watson squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry, Moosh, we'll keep her in the middle. She's our driver, remember? We'll look after her."

The little crowd set off. Halfway to the summit they stumbled on a path, some sort of easement by the looks, with signs at intervals hinting at underground cables. Nearing the top, Watson gestured everyone down, and crept to the crest, hood over his head, where he lay down, flat on the ground.

The whole palace lay spread out beneath him, all lit up. And there was the helicopter, just like Cassandra had said. His eyes strayed to the pool, few hundred meters away, to find it cluttered with formless objects, like bundles of cloth, the water shining dark under the lights. Troops strolled here and there, apparently at ease, and Watson caught a hint of shouting and cheering, underscored by hoots, foot-stomps and whistles. The grand hall, he assumed. Some sort of celebration.

He felt a presence behind him and Ally snake-crawled to his side. He could smell her body odour, her sweet, natural musk now tainted with the metallic tang of fear. She edged past him a little, till she was able look down on the roof of the topmost tier. "Well fuck me." she whispered, "It's a one-three-nine."

"A one-three what now?"

"The helicopter. It's an Agusta one-three-nine."

Watson came up beside her, peeking over the rocks at the helicopter, sitting in the moonlight in the middle of a yellow circle on the rooftop pad. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's frikken awesome!" Ally said. "I had a drive of one once."

"Think you can actually fly it?"

"If we can get it started."

"Think you can get it started?"

"Piece of cake."

Another body appeared, this one at Ally's elbow. "It's there!" Beck whispered, bouncing up and down, unable to contain her excitement. "Look!"

"Settle down, Flea."

"Do you think you can fly it?"

"Jesus Christ." Ally huffed. "Yes, Flea. Maybe. It's just like the one I flew in Melbourne."

They lay for a while, staring at the big machine. Five main rotor blades. Big, fat fuselage on squat tricycle undercarriage. A four-bladed tailrotor, mounted on top of the fin, at the end of a sturdy red and gold tailboom.

"Are they just gonna let us walk up and take it?" Beck asked.

Ally rolled her shoulders. This was the matter she'd been deliberately avoiding. "Can't see any guards."

Beck frowned, "What about the pilots?"

"What about them?"

"Well, they're not just gonna leave it sitting there, surely. Unprotected."

Ally looked at her. "Think about it, Flea. How many chopper pilots have you met in your life?"

"That I know of?" Beck asked then fidgeted, frowning, for a moment. "Probably none."

"Right. And apart from the king's. How many of them can be here on the island?"

"Including us?"

"Uh huh."

Beck silently counted off on her fingers, then looked at Ally. "Zero, I guess."

"Right. Zero."

"Well? Were are they?"

The sound of applause, whistling and stomping drifted by on the breeze. From the Great Hall, where the Travelling Wives and showgirls, maids, escorts and dancing girls were being divvied up. Ally shot Beck a sardonic smile. "Hear that? It sounds like party."

"So what?"

"Use your brains, Flea. They're pilots. Even worse, they're chopper pilots. Chicks and booze. If there's either or both, that's where they'll be. Guaranteed."

Beck thought about it. "Ohhh."

Ally pulled back from the brink. "Well, guys?"

The old man and Beck swapped a glance. Watson's heart was hammering, fit to tear free of its mountings, even in spite of the blockers doing laps of his veins. "Well, I guess it won't hurt to have a look."

"How should we do it?" Ally asked.

Watson swallowed. "Why not let me go first? And if there's trouble, the rest of you can high tail it out of here."

"Six chances." Beck snorted.

"Think about it." Watson said wearily, shoulders stooped under the grinding fatigue, "If I-"

"I have thought about it." Beck whispered crossly. "And the answer is no."

"Guys," Ally sighed, "the longer we hang around here, the better our chances of being sprung. Flea. How about you and me go first? If we make it to the chopper the others can follow. If we don't, I'll just say I captured you and ask for a big fat reward."

"Fuck that. I'll just tell 'em I took YOU prisoner."

"Scissor, paper, rock."

Beck and Ally pumped their fists three times. While Beck led with scissors, Ally anted-up with a rock.

"Okay." Beck nodded, "Good plan."

"Damon." Ally said, "Once the cockpit doors close, you come on down. Got it? I'll open the rear sliding door before I get in. Once you're on board, slide it shut behind you, nice and quiet, then pull it in firmly in and push down on the handle."

"Got it." Watson said as another body joined the huddle. "Is it there?" Cassandra asked, brimming with expectation.

"Agusta one-three-nine." Ally nodded. "Just like you said."

Cassandra clapped lightly and let out a squeal. "Oh my god! Do you think you can fly it?"

Beck and Watson chorused, "Cassandra!" while Ally compressed her lips, quietly mortified by the very idea. A wave of self-doubt crashed over her. It was a large, complex, thirty million-dollar machine, with twin turboshaft engines and a myriad of systems- fuel, hydraulic, electrical, avionic, lighting, undercarriage and auto-flight. On the up side, most modern systems were pretty much set-and-forget, and the basic laws of aerodynamics still applied. Lift, drag, angle of attack, power required, relative airflow. She cast her mind back to that night-ride in Melbourne, poling a dark grey, FLIR-equipped magic carpet through the night sky, on a two-hour joyride, helmet on, peering at a grainy-green wonderland through Night Vision Goggles. Far more memorable than the hotel rendezvous afterwards, and the marathon effort of faking enthusiasm.

Ally turned and sat up. "Ally?" Watson asked. "What are you doing?"

"I need a pee." she replied. "Before riding into the valley of death. If we get sprung, I don't want to embarrass myself."

"Me too!" Beck said, rolling onto her bottom.

"Wait for me." Cassandra called, scooting downhill on her backside until she was well below the skyline. The move set off a chain reaction and soon they were all at it, Beck, Ally, Selene and Cassandra all squatting in the public domain, the maids, Hope and Floraliza, behind the privacy of boulders. Watson's nostrils tingled with the fragrance of their efforts, salts and nitrates, sweet and astringent, not unpleasant by any means. He smacked his lips, briefly wondering if he should do the same. Dry as parchment.

Ally straightened and wiped herself with the hem of her slip. Trudging uphill to where the old man stood, she swept her fringe aside. "Not gonna have one last pee?"

Watson grunted with laughter. "Inevitably."

Beck finished off and strolled back, rearranging her robes. "Don't wanna join us, old boy?"

"He's saving it for a special occasion." Ally snickered.

Cassandra returned, likewise adjusting her clothing. "Woo! That's a relief. What about you, Gi... Damon? Don't wanna-"

Beck and Ally chorused, "Cassandra!" then fell about giggling.

"What?"

"I think it's the altitude." Watson said, squeezing her shoulder. "They seem to be a bit light headed."

When Hope and Floraliza returned, Watson convened a huddle. "Plan 'A'?"

Ally nodded. "Flea and me first."

The old man nodded. "And when you close the doors?"

"Come down after us. Pile in and close that door. Be ready. If we can't get it started I guess we'd better follow Plan 'B'."

"Plan 'B'?"

"Uh huh." Ally nodded. "Plan 'B', come back here and work out Plan 'C'."

They crawled to the crest once again, desperately hoping the helicopter was still there, that it hadn't been silently spirited away in their short absence. It was right where they'd left it, big, shiny and inviting, sitting in the middle of the pad.

With one last look at her partners in crime, Ally crawled over the crest, before picking her way downwards under the silver glow of the moon, the light so clear and bright, her dark-adapted eyes could easily make out colours- rust-red iron oxide, the beige of the sandstone, dark granite boulders here and there. Then Beck set off after her, just as Watson was reaching out to touch her. Cassandra lay beside him, heavy breathing, Selene beside her, Hope and Floraliza by the old man's other shoulder.

The haphazard descent of thirty meters or so seemed to take half an eternity. Reaching the bottom, hurdling a low concrete wall, Beck and Ally alighted as one on the palace roof. They paused for a moment, by the looks of it talking, then rose and set off, hurrying stooped into to the helicopter's shadow. While Beck skirted the nose and disappeared around the left-hand side, Ally pulled the handle and slid the rear door open, just wide enough for a body to enter. Turning, she looked uphill and gave a quick thumbs up, before opening the front right-hand door and climbing inside.

On her tummy beside Watson, Cassandra shook her head. "That little chick's just so amazing. Gid... My Lord. I'm telling you. Both of them are. In fact all of you."

"Well," Watson said over the upwelling of pride, "we're not quite out of the woods just yet. Not by a long shot."

"No... but..." Cassandra said, staying on topic, "if I ever grow up, I wanna be like them."

Ally closed the cockpit door. Barely hesitating, Watson rose up onto his knees. "Ladies? If you'd care to follow me."

All the way down, expecting at any instant to be intercepted... or worse, shot... Watson felt as if he was walking naked down a busy street. With bells on, and a flashing neon sign on top of his head. He reached the retaining wall at the foot of the hill and turned to find Cassandra behind him, Selene behind her, the two diminutive dark figures of Hope and Floraliza bringing up the rear. If the women were afraid, it didn't show, their movements measured and confident, as if this mad escapade were somehow run of the mill.

Scaling the wall, Watson spun on his backside and touched down on the pad, then turned to help each of the females over in turn, Cassandra in her borrowed black niqab, Hope in similar robes, Selene with the seat out of her black silk pants, Floraliza incongruous in her smart navy-blue uniform. With a nod from Watson, they hurried, doubled over, across the rooftop to the aircraft.

Only as he neared the machine was Watson able to appreciate its size. It was a monster, its 5 big blades outstretched overhead like a massive black starfish, a gaping black exhaust over the rear of the fuselage. One by one the women climbed in and with one last look over the aerial colossus, Watson stepped up, then slid the door quietly shut and locked it behind him.

Up in the cockpit, Beck and Ally were busy settling in. "Seat adjustment?" Beck asked.

"Lever under the front." Ally replied, patting her seat. "About here."

Beck felt around, then pushed and pulled and wiggled her seat into position.

"Big black knob between the pedals." Ally pointed. "Pedal adjustment."

Beck wound the yaw pedals back while Ally, one step ahead, secured her straps. Beck looked around and her heart sank. "Where the fuck do we start?"

Ally felt around the centre console and fished out a torch. "What do you need to start an aeroplane?"

"In this case?" Beck piped. "A fucking miracle."

"Fuel, air, igniters, exactly, and we've got the lot. There's a torch at the rear of the centre console. Be a dear and do a quick recce. We're gonna need electrics, fuel, engine controls."

Beck switched her torch on and shone it on the overhead. "What about these?" she asked, laying a hand lightly on 2 levers hanging down from the ceiling. "They look like power levers."

Chin on sternum, Ally shook her head. "Nuh. We're not meant to touch those if I recall. There are knobs on the panel. Here. Look. Engine mode. Off, idle, flight. That's gotta be them. Right below the fuel panel. See that? It's all making sense."

"Bunch of electrical switches up here." Beck huffed, spotlighting a row of toggles at the front of the overhead panel.

Ally craned her neck. "That's them. Bus tie, genny one, genny two, master, main and aux batts. And external power. I guess we won't be needing that."

Beck sat looking around. "We're gonna need headsets."

Ally patted a matt grey helmet, hanging off a hook at the rear of the overhead console. A pair of what looked like miniature binoculars were clipped to the brow. "Naww..." Ally said, unhooking the helmet and placing it in her lap, "they even left us their bone-domes. And look. NVG. Now those are gonna come in handy."

Beck did likewise, lifting the helmet from its mount and turning it over. "How do they work?"

"The gogs? There's a push-button on the left, lets you lower them. Knobs each side adjust the width to suit your eyes. Tilt, here," she tapped a little lever on the side, "thumbwheel at the front to move them in and out. Focus with the eyepiece, here, and the objective lenses, here."

Beck sat staring at her. "How the fuck do you know all this?"

"I told you. A two-hour bonk in a Melbourne hotel. Actually, the bonking only took a couple of minutes. You know the old saying... chopper pilots get it up quicker but stiff-wing pilots keep it up longer? Well it's true. The rest of the time he just talked about himself."

"And you still remember it?"

"His life story? The one that just went on and on and on and on?" Ally affected a shiver. "I try not to."

"No. All this shit about the helicopter. And the gogs."

"See one, do one, teach one, Flea. You know the drill."

Beck shook her head. "Fuck you're amazing."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you for years." Ally said, slipping the helmet on and settling it on her head. A size too big but it would do.

Beck pulled her own helmet on, about five sizes too big and pretty much useless. She looked at Ally, who promptly fell apart laughing, that giddy, silent, tear-jerking laugh of the slightly unhinged. "Do you know what you look like?" she cried at last and Beck shook her head. "Like a possum... with a bucket on its head."

"I do so!" Beck glared then snapped her fingers. "I know." Slipping the helmet off, she winkled the hood of golden spider silk from under her niqab, and pulled it over her head. The helmet went back on, and if it wasn't quite snug, at least it was comfortable. Ally slapped her knees with renewed hilarity, as Beck sat looking at her, deadpan.

"Oh, Flea." Ally sighed, "You crack me up. And where'd you get that fancy gold poncho, anyway?"

"This old thing? Oh, it was just lying around."

Ally dried her eyes. "Drop your goggles down do the adjustments. See? This button here?"

The goggles dropped down and Beck drew a breath. The whole world lit up as if a big, green sun had just risen in the sky. A little out of focus, but some twiddling with the adjustments while Ally talked her through, soon brought the image into razor clarity, green and grainy and seething with pixels. "How fuckin cool is this?" Beck breathed.

"Better than blundering around in the dark." Ally concurred. "Now flip them up, and let's go through this one last time."

Beck did as she was told and sat back watching while Ally rehearsed the start. "Electrics first and then I'll go for the fuel. You do the lights, this panel here, and anything else that looks promising."

"Position lights and anticols?"

"Not tonight."