Rogue Element

She remembered looking into the muzzle of the Indonesian soldier’s rifle and knowing that she was about to die. Her attitude at the time had been one of resignation to her fate. She remembered feeling beyond fear. Death had failed to panic her. It was the same now. Airsickness, however, was something else entirely. The thought of dying gave her some relief. Her stomach convulsed, but nothing came up.

The V22 jinked violently up and down, then banked sharply left. It was a wild ride and Suryei found it an effort keeping her head from lolling about uncontrollably. The pressure was on her shoulder straps — they were holding her down in her seat. Her stomach felt light, as if it was trying to find its way up and out of her mouth. She retched again dryly into the bag. She was then forced the other way, driven into her seat, the air forced out of her lungs and her eyeballs squashed into their sockets. She tried to lift her hand out of her lap and found it impossible. It seemed to weigh four or five times more than usual. Suryei tried holding her breath to stop the heaves. It didn’t help and she vomited through her nostrils instead.

* * *

Toad called up the V22 and got the aircraft’s position. They were all participants in a game not unlike chess, where the individual pieces were capable of moving in specific and particular ways. The slow-mover was somewhere directly below him. Now, where were those bandits? Then just as quickly as it went down, the display on his screen came back up.

Shit! The F-16s were coming up behind the V22! Jesus, they’d managed to get there damn quick. Toad immediately rolled inverted and fed back pressure into the stick. His wingman followed. The AV-8s both pulled five-g half loops and accelerated towards the F-16s. The V22 Osprey was his responsibility. He was there to protect it, which meant getting it back on friendly ground in one piece; and with its cargo alive and kicking. There was a time to fight and a time to run. With no BVR missiles left, it was definitely time for the latter, but not until the V22 was secure.

Unfortunately, while the AV-8s could sprint away at the speed of sound, around 580 knots at sea level, the V22 had its balls hanging out at around 270 to 280 knots. With a top speed of well over 1000 knots, an F-16 would mow them down. There was no alternative but to engage the Indons and either try to shoot them out of the sky or persuade them to go home. Toad and his wingman were above and behind the F-16s. With a bit of luck, the Indons’ radar might not have picked them up.

As only Murphy’s Law could predict, Major Shidyahan crossed over the end of the channel at the same time as the V22 exited it. Shidyahan’s eyes went wide at his sheer good fortune when he looked over the nose of his Falcon and saw the V22 sitting in his one o’clock low position like a fat grey cockroach waiting to be stomped on. He selected heaters and went for a tone. He couldn’t get one. The angle was rear three-quarter. Perhaps the thing’s engines weren’t radiating enough heat for a lock. Shidyahan toggled through to gun mode. He had to be quick. His mind calculated angles and speeds. With a little deft feathering of the throttle, he might just manage to get off a burst of cannon into the odd-looking aircraft before overshooting it.

The V22 shook as a handful of 20 mm shells ripped into it and exploded, punching jagged holes in the fuselage and across the upper wing. The V22 staggered and the engine pitch heaved to a different, desperate note. Oil and smoke exploded with a ball of orange flame from the port engine. The sudden change in torque loadings threw the aircraft into a temporarily divergent flight path. The odd motion brought the paper bag back in front of Suryei’s face. She took a quick look around. No one seemed hurt, but she could see blue sky through the ragged holes in the ceiling.

Toad did a conversion turn, another half loop, putting his AV-8 on an F-16’s tail. The Indon was already pulling up into a high-g yo-yo, positioning itself for another run at the Osprey. Whatever damage it was capable of causing on its first pass was done and there was nothing Toad could do about it. He swore and hoped that the V22 was not in a terminal state.

Suryei’s eyes nervously flicked over the V22’s interior. The SAS soldiers were all in their seats. Astonishingly, one of them, Ellis, Lance Corporal Ellis — yes, that was his name — was asleep, a little drool running from one corner of his mouth onto the headrest. She wanted to kick him awake.