No—he had to kill the bastards. He wanted to see them cry as she had cried.
The attacking aircraft had crashed at the end of the strip. Even with its heavy load, Hawk Three had enough room to get in the air.
And the EB-52?
Probably not. But it would be better to die trying than to be killed on the ground.
Worst case, he’d target himself with the missile.
“Take off,” he told the bridge. “Take off.”
Pej, Brazil
8 March, 0501
THE EXPLOSION PRESSED DANNY AGAINST THE GROUND. He heard one of the other members of his team cursing in the corn set, but as he turned to see if he could spot him, a massive fireball ignited behind him on the runway. Metal rained down; Danny curled himself into a ball as a series of thunderous explosions shook the air and ground.
He thought the Megafortress and the C-17 had collided, but as he twisted around he saw the plane was still back near the hangars. It must’ve been one of the Flighthawks.
“The wheels!” he yelled over the com set. “Try and hit the inside wheels of the Megafortress.”
He flicked the sensors on the CIV, toggling from normal to IR and then starlight. He could see the top of the Mega-fortress, but to hit the tires he’d have to stand, exposing himself to the machine gun again.
The plane started to move. Danny jumped to his feet, raising his M-16 as a steam of bullets started whizzing by his head.
Aboard Galatica
8 March, 0501
MINERVA TASTED BLOOD IN HER MOUTH, HER LIP BLEEDING. The Americans were here; they were trapped.
Bullets splashed against the thick side glass of the cockpit as she pushed up onto the flight deck, half in shock. Mayo sat at the copilot’s station, frozen.
“Go!” she yelled at him as a fresh spray of bullets panged against the glass and fuselage. The panels and skin were obviously thick enough to withstand the light-caliber weapons, but sooner or later the attackers would bring heavier guns to bear. “Move!” she told her pilot.
“Colonel, Captain Gerrias isn’t aboard—”
“Just go!”
He put his hand on the slider between the pilot stations and the plane surged forward. A fireball erupted from the far end of the runway ahead.
“The other plane,” screamed Mayo, backing down the engines quickly. “The wreckage. We won’t clear the flames.”
“We must,” Lanzas told him.
“But—”
“Go! Just go!” Minerva reached over to the power console and punched the thruster so hard it nearly moved out of its retainer. The plane slammed forward, veering to the right. The flames loomed.
Better to go out in a fireball, she thought.
Gunfire rippled across the front of the outside of the cabin. The bullets made a lot of noise, but still didn’t break through the hull. Minerva saw the flames ahead and began to close her eyes, then decided she would meet her fate bravely. She thought of Madrone, who had brought her to this.
The Megafortress shuddered and there was a roar behind and below her: she fell backward against the second set of seats. An alarm sounded and she heard the plane’s computerized voice say something. For a second, she thought she could feel the flames burning her body.
In the next, they lifted off the runway.
It took her a moment to realize they were all right. She steadied her hands on the pilot’s seat, watching as Mayo raised the gear and climbed rapidly.
“Do you have a gun?” she asked him finally.
“Yes.” He reached into his vest and retrieved an old-fashioned revolver.
“Keep the plane below ten thousand feet no matter what,” she told him. “Stay on the course north. I’ll check on the others.”
Pei, Brazil
8 March, 0504
DANNY’S FIRST TWO BULLETS TOOK OUT A TOTAL OF three tires, thanks to a lucky ricochet. But as the Megafortress lurched left on the runway, Danny felt himself pushed down again, hit by the massive machine gun on his left. This time, the gun’s bullets managed to spin him around and somehow got a piece of the CIV, cracking it.
Which made him madder than hell.
Screaming, he rolled backward and began firing into the stream of red tracers. A huge ball of fire slammed into the top of his helmet, smacking him into the ground. Somehow, he kept firing.
When his clip clicked empty, he realized the machine gun had stopped.
He could feel a welt rising at the front of his head. Though a jagged line ran through the left quadrant, Annie’s visor was still working—a body lay a few feet away from the machine gun fifty yards away.
Directly above it, four hot circles edged into ellipses over the mountain pass. The Megafortress had managed to clear the C-17 on the runway.
Aboard Galatica
8 March, 0510
BREANNA’S RESTRAINTS CAME APART WITH A SNAP, slamming her hands against the seat and panel so hard, she felt something snap in her left wrist. But she ignored the pain and jumped up, launching herself across the tech station toward Madrone.
The distance was farther than she thought. She fell across the technician’s gear, grabbing Madrone’s wires and loosening them. He didn’t seem to notice, or at least made no effort to stop her. But as she squirmed to get more leverage, something grabbed her and threw her back against the rear bulkhead.
Lanzas.
“Strap the cripple into the seat and come with me,” barked the Brazilian colonel.
“He’s not a cripple. He’s my husband.”
“Do it now or you both die here.” Lanzas had a revolver in her left hand. She edged away, watching Breanna carefully as she lifted Zen up and strapped him into the seat. He seemed thoroughly out of it.
Breanna leaned toward him, intending to kiss him. The Brazilian put the pistol on her neck to stop her.
“Nice try,” said Lanzas. “Upstairs now. If you do anything, you will die. Kevin, we’re okay.”
Madrone took no notice of them. He seemed a zombie, completely oblivious.
Not sure what else to do, Breanna edged past and went up the ladder to the flight deck.
Dreamland
Secure Command Center
8 March, 0130 local (0530 Brazil)
“WE MISSED THE PLANE.”
Colonel Bastian held the receiver away from his head for a moment, not because he was disappointed with Danny—he knew stopping them on the ground was a long shot—but because he was afraid of the answer to his next question. He glanced at Major Cheshire and Captain Arjun, the two Megafortress commanders alone with him in the Mudroom. Their consoles were locked out of the secure line and they watched grimly.
“Our people?” asked Bastian.
“C-17 crew is dead. One of the Flighthawks collided with it. Two more got away with Galatica. Captain Ferns managed to roll behind some barrels on the ground before they took off, and one of the Brazilian pilots surrendered,” Danny said.
“What about Major Stockard and Captain Breanna?” he asked.
He meant to say Captain Stockard, but his emotions betrayed him.
“At the moment, we’re not one hundred percent sure,” said Danny. “We have Jeff’s wheelchair, but not him. Ferris thinks they hauled Major Stockard aboard before takeoff. It’s likely your daughter went too. We haven’t secured the entire base,” Danny added. “We will. Army Special Forces and airborne are inbound from Panama in Combat Talons and an AC-130. They should be here within twenty minutes. I’ll have the hangars secure by then.”
With only six men? But Danny wasn’t known for exaggeration.
“All right, Captain, thanks. I want you to search the base carefully. See if you can find evidence that Galatica or the Flighthawks are carrying nukes.”
“Nukes? In Brazil?”