Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (56 page)

“What the?” Scott looked between the sky and the console. “What did you do?”

The Irishman threw his hands up. “I don’t know what I did!”

This was insane. “You can’t just blindly hit buttons on a flying transport!”

“Yeh said to figure things ou’.
That’s
how I figure things ou’!”

This was going to end badly. Easing the joystick down, Scott angled the
Pariah
’s nose back toward the ground. He wasn’t sure if he was getting the hang of flying properly or getting used to flying improperly, but at least he felt a granule of control. “I’m going lower, I’m getting close to the ground.” He scanned the mountainous horizon. “We’ve gotta go north. That’s north, right?”

“Why the hell do yeh wanna fly close to the ground?”

“Because we won’t be detected! Right?”

A second of silence passed. “Are yeh askin’ me or tellin’ me?”

“I’m asking you. I’m telling you. I don’t know—that’s just what Travis said!” The ground was approaching quickly, and once again, Scott found himself pulling back on the throttle as he pulled the nose up. “I think we’re going too slow. How does stalling work? Do you know that?”

“I am literally cryin’ righ’ now.”

Tiffany!
They needed to contact Tiffany. If there was one person who could get them through this—one person who could direct Scott on what he was supposed to do, even from afar—it was her. The Valley Girl just became their only hope. Grabbing the
Pariah
’s console comm—the one component on the transport he knew how to operate—he queued in the Superwolf pilot. “Feathers, come in,
now
!”

*
      
*
      
*

ROLLING WITH THE Superwolf’s nose low, Tiffany dropped into a steep slice, cutting off the last Vindicator mid-turn. As she guided her targeting reticle over the enemy fighter, Scott’s call came over her helmet speaker. The blonde pulled the trigger, and the Superwolf’s nose cannon sprayed the twin tail engines of the Vindicator. Its pilot ejected moments before the Vindicator exploded.

Snarling into the comm angrily, Tiffany said, “What part of ‘I can’t talk right now’ didn’t you understand?” Orange streaks flew past her cockpit, and the pilot looked back through the canopy. The two remaining Superwolves were on her tail, one playing wingman to the other.

“This is Scott. I’m flying the
Pariah
—Travis is dead!”

Tiffany’s hands tensed. Behind her visor, the brown-eyed blonde blinked. “Come again with that traffic?”

“Travis Navarro is dead! I am flying the
Pariah
. I do not know what to do!”

“Travis is
dead
?”

There was a burst of static. “Dead, dead, dead, as in
dead
! What in the hell do I do to fly this ship?”

A lump rose in Tiffany’s throat—even as the Superwolves behind her fired on, and even as she pitched and yawed the fighter in full-on guns defense mode. For a moment, her hands moved on pure autopilot. Swallowing the lump, she snapped back into reality, pushing down on the stick to dive into a defensive spiral. As the ground became her new view, she held her breath.

“Tiffany! Are you there?”

Travis was the reason Tiffany was alive. If not for him—if not for that cursed transport—she would have been blown out of the sky after leaving the Great Dismal Swamp. Jaw setting as her stare narrowed into a deep, burning glare, Tiffany pulled out of her spiral early and slammed the throttle forward. “Fly north and stay low. I’ll be on my way soon.”

Behind Tiffany, the two remaining Superwolves descended to pursue her. Leading them to the
Pariah
wasn’t an option. The Fourteenth needed to survive, and having a pair of Superwolves in the area wasn’t going to help them. She had to take out these two first—preferably
before
reinforcements were sent from
Hong Kong
. There was no doubt that with as many casualties as EDEN had faced already at the hands of the blond pilot, they were going to up the ante hard.

Pulling back on the throttle and hitting the air brakes, Tiffany curled the Superwolf up and around on a hairpin turn so tight, she wasn’t entirely sure the aircraft would be able to pull it off. But it did. Dropping out of maximum thrust, her Superwolf cut the corner tighter than both of the fighters behind her. As they turned on a wider angle, she brought the Superwolf around like a corkscrew. The next thing the two enemy pilots knew, Tiffany was tucking in behind them in what was now a defensive vertical spiral. They were hers for the taking. Pulling the trigger on her joystick, the Superwolf’s cannons erupted with fury, catching the left wing of one of the fighters—the one that’d been serving as wingman. The wing was blown into pieces as the fighter spiraled toward the ground.

Guiding her reticle over, she repeated her attack on the last enemy flying, and just like that enemy’s wingman, she peppered her target’s wing until it began to explode into pieces. Its pilot bailed out as the Superwolf spun.

No time for celebration. Looping around sharply, Tiffany dropped in altitude until she was flying just over the desert’s surface. Pushing the throttle to the wall, she went supersonic toward
Hami Station
.

*
      
*
      
*

BORIS WAS A WRECK. The whole while the
Pariah
flew, the technician was screaming Travis’s name from his seat. On several occasions, he fought with his good arm to unstrap himself and run to the corpse of his friend, but on both occasions, Jayden was there to pin him back and keep him in place.

“Travis!”
Boris yelled.

“There’s nothing you can do, man!” The Texan grabbed Boris again from his own seat, slamming the technician back into his and fighting to hold him there. “If you start movin’ around, you’re gonna get killed, too!”

In the sealed-off cockpit, Scott and Becan were still trying to figure out how to fly. Low altitude was proving a challenge simply because objects on the ground—and mountain ranges—needed to be avoided. Nothing they were looking at looked familiar. If this was the same topography they’d flown over to get to
Hami Station
, it certainly didn’t look like it.

The Irishman was frantically trying to identify the various buttons and switches on the console, most of which had either partially or entirely peeled labels. There was no way that someone without intimate knowledge of Vulture controls would be able to figure things out. “Okay, I think this section is for troop bay lights!” When he pointed at the indicated section, Scott flinched to knock his hand away.

“Don’t touch it!”

Becan threw his hands up in defense. “I was just pointin’ it ou’ to yeh!”

“If nothing comes after us, I think I might have this,” said Scott. He was moderately low, or at least what
he
considered low, and he had decent control over the throttle and joystick. The problem was speed. Though the
Pariah
had been slowed in general by its nonfunctioning landing gear, Scott was outright terrified to even match that with the hole in the glass. Though unaffected by the wind for the most part in his fulcrum armor, it was still vibrating and whistling like it was on the verge of coming to pieces. What would happen if the crack expanded? Would the entire canopy break apart? Would he and Becan be sucked out? Would they be completely unable to control anything at all? These were all things he needed to know desperately.

“But wha’ if somethin’
does
come after us?” Becan asked.

Scott just shook his head. “Then, to be perfectly honest, we probably die.”

The comm channel cracked. Tiffany’s voice emerged. “I’m coming in fast! What’s your location?”

Looking down out of the side of the window, Scott answered, “We’re over a bunch of trees.”

“I don’t think tha’s goin’ to be helpful,” said Becan.

By the sound of Tiffany’s voice, it wasn’t. “
Trees
? I need coordinates, vectors!”

“Don’t worry about Vector! Vector is behind us.”

“No, not the—
ugh
! Look at your compass, give me a heading.”

At least that was easy to find. “Okay, we’re heading, uhh…like, straight north.” He looked at Becan. “That’s a direction, right? Straight north?”

“Yes, north is a direction.”

“I mean to a pilot!”

Tiffany answered, “Okay, I’m going to try and avoid China.”

That sounded like a good plan.

“What I’m gonna need you to do is relay your actual coordinates to me. I can’t track you because you don’t have a transponder.”

Snapping his fingers to catch Becan’s attention, Scott pointed at the console. “Find our coordinates.”

Becan stared at the console. “Uhh.”

“How hard is it gonna be to land this thing?” Scott asked Tiffany.

There was an unsettling pause before Tiffany answered. “On the ground, I could probably talk you through it. But, like…” Scott already knew where she was heading. “Okay, being totally honest, you’re not gonna be able to park that thing in
Northern Forge
by yourself, even with me telling you what to do. It’s actually kinda tricky.”

Scott figured as much.

“Okay, once I find you, I’ll follow you somewhere where you can land on the open ground. I’ll park next to you, then come aboard and fly the
Pariah
myself.”

“What about the Superwolf?”

Tiffany answered, “The Superwolf has autopilot. It has the route to
Northern Forge
already programmed—it’ll land by itself.”

“God, do we ever need autopilot back in here,” said Becan.

The blonde continued. “Wait till I find you, then we’ll find a landing spot together. Vertical thrusters can be kinda tricky, too.”

So much about this thing was “kinda tricky.” Scott was realizing just how much more Travis knew than what they’d given him credit for. “We’ll do whatever you say.”

Silence came over the line, though the sound of the open channel could still be heard. At long last, Tiffany said in a voice as heartfelt as it was solemn, “I’m gonna get you guys home.”

Even with the distance between them, and even in the midst of the chaos, her words carried warmth into the cockpit. They were what Scott and Becan, both wholly outmatched behind the joystick of a Vulture, needed to hear. The
Pariah
had saved Tiffany’s life. Saving it and its crew in return would mean something.
I’m so glad she’s with us.

“Hey Remmy, look!” Pointing at the radar display, the Irishman’s tone raised almost jovially.

Scott followed Becan’s gaze to the display, where a dot appeared at the very bottom. Tilting his head, he gazed at it curiously. There was no doubt about it—it was another aircraft.

“We see yeh, Feathers!” Becan said through the comm.

Something churned in the pit of Scott’s stomach. There was no way Tiffany had made it back to them that quickly. They’d only been on the channel with her for a few minutes. “I don’t think that’s her,” he said ominously. “Hey Tiff, are you coming up behind us right now?”

“Huh? No, I’m like, nowhere near you guys, yet.”

Oh no.
Scott’s heart rate increased. “That’s another ship.”

“Yeh gotta be kiddin’ me…”

“That’s another vecking ship.”

Tiffany’s voice crackled through again. This time, the Valley Girl’s volume high with urgency. “Did you say you guys saw another ship?”

“Yes!”

“What’s the identification on it?”

Peering at the new dot, Scott read the number atop it. “VM2733.”

“That’s a Mark-2 Vulture,” Tiffany said. “They musta called in reinforcements!”

“That’s great—now what do we do?” There was no immediate answer from Tiffany. This was bad.

At long last, the pilot responded. “Are they coming straight for you or just in your general direction?”

Next to Scott, Becan shook his head. “Tha’ looks like a dead line straight to us, if yeh ask me.”

Scott was forced to agree. “I think they see us.” They’d crossed a mountain at one point. Had they gone too high and been detected?

“Okay,” said Tiffany, “I need you to listen and do exactly what I say.” Scott had no problem with that. “Strap in
completely
. I mean, like, the full harness, not just the safety straps.”

Reaching up to pull down his harness, Scott slid it down atop his body. Though he’d never seen Travis actually use it, he was aware that it was there. Thankfully, it slid right into place.

Tiffany rattled on. “You’re gonna have to increase your velocity to stay ahead of the V2! Has the bullet hole in the wind screen shown any signs of cracking
at all
since you started flying?”

“It looks like maybe a little bit, yes!”

“Okay.” A dreadful pause followed. “You’re probably going to lose the canopy.”

Behind his faceplate, Scott blinked. Did he hear that right? Turning his head to look at Becan, he saw that the Irishman was already staring at him. He could only imagine the look on his counterpart’s face behind the mask. “Did we just hear you say we were going to lose the—”

“Increase to six hundred knots,
now
. Don’t wait, do it!”

Scott’s hands were sweating bullets in their gloves as he slowly pushed the throttle forward. The
Pariah
’s thrusters grew louder. Next to him, Becan gripped the sides of his seat and went rigid.

“Listen and listen carefully,” Tiffany said. “At some point very soon, the hole in your wind screen is going to start cracking. When that starts happening—”

It was already happening. Scott’s eyes widened as the cracks spiraled out, shaking the entire canopy with every inch they rapidly grew.

“—you’re like, seconds away from the canopy blowing off.
You’re going to be okay
. Just keep the cockpit door locked so no one opens it from the troop bay!”

Becan was already on it, slapping his hand out to engage the cockpit door’s bolt lock. The wind screen was practically dancing.

The blonde went on. “The important thing is that you don’t get flustered and you
don’t
—”

Eruption. There was a deafening sound like a torrent as the wind screen shattered, its shards tattering against Scott and Becan’s armor as the canopy literally blew apart in the span of a single second. Scott’s eyes widened in abject horror as he was exposed to wide open sky. He couldn’t even scream.