Terraplane (9 page)

More than grateful. I'd been affection's object for those falling
into the Swedish syndrome several times myself, but that affliction
never showed symptoms this soon. Firstsight lust was common
enough, yet what unwound before me seemed a more complex
phenomenon, one of rarest sort; like star's visible birth, or seeing a
picture fall, unaided, from a wall. That she chose to shed suspicion
so easily-if she had choice-I accepted as good fortune. Jake, as
ever, seemed dubious. She stroked her hand over his hair as if to test
his existence; he jerked back.

"Touch isn't essentialled," he said.

"You are cold observer of life, Jake."

"Taker," he corrected. No further messages of import passed our
lips until we'd cleared the soldier line safeguarding the neighborhood from the bitter world without; even then we spoke little and
said less, as if by wording overmuch the world might shake down
upon us. Jake centerlaned upon hitting the main road, floored and
sped free. Traffic's quick colors smeared our roadsides as we shot
along.

"We're tracked?" Jake asked, eyeing a light flashing at middash.
"Should we evade?"

Oktobriana judged the readout. "Refrigerator needs defrosting.
Let me examine all systems," she said, fiddling with dials, peering
at screens. "None follow Safe thus far."

We passed apartment crops rising forty floors from concrete
pastures; unlike American cities Moscow rose highest at the bor-
derwall, shielding the low center from ground assault. True land
showed but briefly amidst the blight, pale gray gnat poking from a
long-worn carpet. The expressway narrowed to fifteen lanes at
the outskirts; on our roadsides now were nothing but brown
evergreens.

"We take trip to America after all?" Skuratov asked, coming to
full consciousness. "You are apt at impromptu response."

"We try," I said.

"Many try," he said. "Few succeed. Is sad thing."

"That fellow in the tunnel,' A said. "In your employ?"

"Indirectly, perhaps," he said, shifting to take his back's weight
from his bound wrists. "It was needed to see if Jake, ah, truly
required devitalization. Jake was as heard. Stories passed mouth to
mouth tend to exaggerate. In this case, no-"

"Wire his jaws, Luther," said Jake, keeping eyes roadward,
flicking looks into the rearview. "Use his tongue for sandwiches."
"Had truth proved rumor, Luther, there was no need to fear. We
had no wish to harm you too soon."

"Here at right, Jake," said Oktobriana. The car guided us downramp onto a service artery curling away from the mainline. Several
hundred meters more and we righted again, onto a rutted dirt road,
its winter's mud permafrosted. Entwined treelimbs overhead sheltered us from airview.

"This road's not fit for horsetrade," said Jake as we bounced
along.

"Servants' entrance, I suspect," said Oktobriana, staring at
Skuratov as if she might sear the skin off his bones. He took all with
disconcerting peace, now that most pain had retreated.

"Neighborhood's not soldiered?" Jake asked. "No army boys
required?" Oktobriana had again slid closer towards him.

"To guard people of best type?" asked Skuratov. His was an
attractive neighborhood; the houses and grounds, where visibled,
dripped with the subtle taste expected of Krasnayaviki. Amidst
wooded hills so fully treed that the forest seemed, impossibly, of
original growth, homes' fragments appeared briefly before vanishing, passing like dream's vague-remembered shards. High stone
walls lent further peace to the fearful minds secluded within the
shadows. Neither person nor vehicle evidenced. Our car swung
onto a graveled drive, and coasted down a gentle-graded hill running half the length of Skuratov's estate. His house evidenced by its
near-absence; squinting between branches, I saw a dome, a chimney pot, a window lit from within.

"If I hunch true," I said, "the plane'll need reprogramming."

"If a plane is readied at all," said Jake.

"Soon enough seen. Oktobriana, you've experience. You can
adjust for flightpath override?"

"Depends on plane," she said. "I should think so."

"Once we unground," said Jake, "won't we be trailed on high?"

I wasn't prime for catechism, and chose nonresponse. Trouble
would trail us oceanover, I feared; surely Jake held like mindset,
and his vocalized uncertainties only disturbed me more. We
entered a clearing, bare as if it was defoliated weekly.

"Presto," said Jake as we bumped onto a concrete thread cen-
teraimed. The field, as stripped, covered several hundred square
meters. At meadow's core a blasted circle sheltered the earth from
the sun; thereupon, a plane was provided, an eight-passenger
sweepwing GBL97, its glossy black skin free of number, mark or
flag of originating nation. Jake cut the engine at landing pad's edge.

"Let's plan," I said, forwarding so that I might sound clear,
gripping the cassette box, keeping close eye on Skuratov. The plane
sat thirty meters distant; the car might blow on takeoff if we pulled
closer. In the surrounding forest, undoubted, badger and rabbit
and boar were supplanted by cameras and monitors and every
species of ear. "Either of you flown this type previous?"

"A playtoy," said Jake, looking towards the plane; towards
Oktobriana. "Translation's needed. Wouldn't wish to confuse rudder with aileron."

"I fly well myself," she said. "Will be no problem there."

"Let's shift all in one trip doubletime. Oktobriana, case yourself
if you're so assisting," I said, handing her one of her grips across the
seat. "I'll lug the other as well as our little gift here-"

"Treat that with great care," she said, opening her door.

"Jake, stroll Mal across. Secure him but don't expend force
while we're outside, AO?"

"What if he so demands?" Jake asked, rubbing knuckles as if to
sharpen them. "If he keens to suffer I'd hate not to oblige-"

"Once planed, abuse as wished," I nearly said; realized in time
I'd only freerein him. "Keep him close till we're onboard," I said.
"Just that. We owe more time than we can afford. Let's."

Frost glazed wings and fuselage; as the deicer activated, discerning our approach, all melted off. While crossing the tarmac I
suspected Skuratov might breakaway, no matter his chance, but as
ever he unpredictabled, striding happily beneath Jake's wing to the
plane. The gangplank lowered as we neared.

"Certify our passage," Jake said, shoving him ahead, nearly
tumbling him upstairs. We planed; flipping the closure I listened to
the comforting hiss of pressurization as the door sealed. Jake and
Oktobriana cockpitted as I tied Skuratov onto one of the seats,
having retrieved a plastic line from the galley.

"Not so tight," he complained. "You cut off my blood."

"It'll flow soon enough, Mal." The cabin lit up; the plane,
adjudging the interior, could have belonged to any megacorp. No
portraits of the Big Boy evidenced here.

"No trouble locating override," Skuratov noted. "No trouble
with controls, I would think."

"Good. "

"Trouble, perhaps, keeping plane in air," he said, smiling. Once
he was immobilized I headed upaisle. Jake gestured towards the
surrounding one-way glass when I entered.

"We're seen under fine lens," he said. "Check there at woodsedge. "

Where forest greeted field several observers clad in Dream
Team's basic black stood so obvious as ravens against a summer sky,
eyeing our plane in resigned silence, as if waiting in the terminal lounge to watch their lovers' planes crash on takeoff. They carried
no evident armor.

"Judging stance and position assault isn't intended," I said,
sizing the range; interpersonal assault, at least. "Front's cleared?"

"Bug-ran proper," he said. "Safe as mother's bed. We're armed?"

"Whether with working arms is question," she said. "Their
controls should be near." She examined the big board's uncountable dials, gauges, screens and knobs. "Start switch here, Jake.
Throttle before you. Altimeter here, powerfeed here, rudder here.
Radarscope to right. Here is control for ailerons and here for
landing gear. Here, now. Security systems."

"What's the firepower?" Jake pressed the ignition and the motor's
whine came up.

"I will tell you when I know, please," she said; he quieted.
"These two switches, the blue and yellow. Blue shoots flame.
Yellow directs machine guns, twelve housed in two phalanxes
under wingtips. Five hundred rounds per second."

Jake grimaced. "No glorious Fourth there. What effects climax?"

"For sustained attack press-" She eyed something she'd never
seen before, to guess from the terminology employed. "This
clickerlike object here. Is basic setup."

"We'll make do. Prepped, Luther?"

"Go." The engine revved, sounding as a beeswarm; exhaust
billowed from the riser unit below, enshrouding us from our
deforested onlookers for too-short seconds. Vibrations massaged
my feet through my soles as we lifted skyways.

"Do they wait until good striking position is reached?" asked
Oktobriana; that thought reached me the moment we spotted
them.

"We'll discover," I said.

"Aimed ready," Jake said; he nodded rearward. "Tied him tight?"

"Drumtight." It took a minute for one of these midgets to attain
altitude suitable for horizontal mode. Ascending above the cloud
we'd made, leaving the gray-brown Russian ground, escaping the
grasp of spider-fingered treetops, we vizzed below, seeing the bad
boys still paused at the brink of the field.

"Movement'll show when it's realized we're not following
expected flightplan. What was the destination as programmed?"

"Yevtushenkograd," said Oktobriana. "On Arctic Circle. A terrible place, we have always heard. Most troublesome go there,
disappear like fog in morning."

I'd heard secondhand stories; shuddered to think of giving ear to
ones heard firsthand, and to imagine the chance to acquire personal
anecdotes-impossible; the most painful death would be preferred.
"How low can we go inside the border without detection?"

"If we flew below the ground we'd still show onscreen," she said.
"Jake. Green button, third from your left, sixth row. Hit it and send
us on our way.

"Pull up and hit sonic soon as possible," I said. "Motorize."

When Jake pressed the button we lurched upward, our altitude
rising so fast as our speed increased. As we entered the opaque
cloud cover above I read understandable screens, judging that clear
air would show after eight thousand meters.

"Anything radared?" I asked.

"Nada," said Jake. Russian-accented static exploded from a
speaker concealed somewhere on board, shattering cockpit's cool
silence; best ignored, I thought. "What's inquired?"

"Some people are unhappy with our behavior," she said. "We
violate secure airspace."

"Nothing more?" I asked. "Once we're aced they draw up the
covers.

"Identity already ascertained, I am sure," she said. "Planes
cannot simply zip from ground to sky in seconds. Be assured they
will come. Let us hope older models pursue us." She redoubled
effort, assisting Jake, her spirit aglow with healthy pessimism.
Leaving the grip of cloud's mud, we shot into clear blue sea. Jake
forwarded the throttle and we leveled, our speed reaching the point
where the feel of forward motion disappears.

"How long till borderlined?"

"Twenty minutes for complete safety," she said. "Mach one
approaches. Prepare yourself. " The plane shook when the boom
shot; we drifted again into seeming stasis. "If velocity can hold we perhaps can reach-" Something on the radarscope snipped her
thought. "Our attendants are here."

They showed through the window. Minutes distant, gliding like
barracudas through water, two fighters broke the cloud's turbulent
bed. As they banked towards us, into direct sunlight, blinding
flares of light reflected off their silver fins.

"What's topspeed?" asked Jake.

"Mach three, it would seem," she said.

"Theirs?"

"Newest models," she sighed. "Mach twelve." Fresh bursts of
static broke our troubled peace. Oktobriana gave close ear and
frowned. "Our immediate return would please them," she said.
"Otherwise we receive immediate attack."

"We land, we lose existence," I said. "Fly on."

"Isn't your friend theirs as well?" Jake asked, following
Oktobriana's lead as she played the board's buttons.

"Not since our hands took hold. By his capture he forfeits
privilege. To keep him would serve their use no further."

Our plane wobbled when theirs roared past, one over, one
under, coasting by at some two hundred meters' distance. There'd
come another pass; if no answer drew by then we'd be plucked like
ripe apples.

Jake reached boardways, to defend. "Let's send our regrets."

"We haven't range for high-altitude interaction," I said. "Those
dillies are latetech. They could shoot the moon from the sky. It's a
no-go. "

"We've something they haven't," said Jake; we looked at
Oktobriana. The planes swung left and onrushed in their penultimate display before mating. Whether Alekhine had entered a more
problematic situation than ours seemed questionable. Oktobriana
read us clear.

"You don't know!" she said, trying to ignore our stare. "Is dangerous and unpredictable. No one should use it."

"Transferral device," I said. "Your boss used it."

"Nor should he have," she said; I uncased the thing from its box.
"We cannot-"

"Three minutes more and we'll be cloud and vapor," said Jake,
throttling full. "That's desired?"

"You don't understand-"

Leaving the cockpit, taking up my coat from where I'd left it, I
unpocketed my cam. "By transferral device I infer we go from here
to elsewhere, true?"

"Luther-!" Oktobriana rose, and followed.

"Still bound for America?" Skuratov laughed, seeing us. "I fear
we will not get so far as that. I feel shock of passing planes. Accept
fate, Luther. We are dust now, nothing more."