“The battery is dead sir, but I have a visual on the blimp.”

“Let off some flares so they can take a bearing.”

The radio operator headed back onto the wing. The co-pilot cradled his gun and headed for the hatch. “Spike it. We can hardly take it with us and they should not get it.” The co-pilot stripped the gun and took a hammer to the firing mechanism. To be doubly sure, he packed the breech with explosive and laid it amongst the trip bombs he had primed.

There were destruction charges packed behind instruments and around anything deemed proprietary technology, all ready to be detonated after they abandoned the wing. Or by the first interloper through any of the hatches if the crew didn’t last that long.

They pulled the bombardier out of the cabin onto the top of the wing. The radio operator had taken a hammer to his equipment and was pulling down the aerials, removing anything that might hinder their rescuers.

Framed by blue sky, the scale of the blimp was hard to determine. The barrels protruding from the pods under its belly could be small autoguns or large cannon. It didn’t seem to be moving any more. Indeed, some of the propellers were no longer turning. If those blades were the same size as the ones on the wing, then the powered balloon was truly enormous.

A shape rose from the top of the blimp. Indistinct at this distance, it trailed another, smaller object that swayed with the movement. After a while it became recognisable as a hoverer, carrying a cargo basket. This was longer than any hoverer Mirl had seen before, with blades at either end of a slender fuselage rather than the usual stacked contra rotators.

The co-pilot headed back to prime the destruction fuses. The cargo basket touched down. There were autoguns on mounts on two diagonally opposed corners. The airman at the nearest gun stepped down and headed to help lift the bombardier. And fell, blood spurting from a wound on his neck.

The other bullets hit the basket and the skin of the wing. The radio operator grabbed the bombardier and started dragging him toward the basket. Mirl turned and crouched, his shot pistol at the ready.

Five figures had jumped out of the branches on the far edge of the wing. They were all cocking and reloading their ancient long guns. Between the cargo basket and the attackers was the co-pilot, frozen at the fuses. He turned to Mirl, pulled the pin from the fuse and grinned. A volley of three shots cut him down.

Another bunch of attackers leapt from the branches closer by, screaming as they charged. Mirl levelled his shot pistol and fired at the mass. The incendiary shell exploded just short of the group, coating them in flame. Still they kept coming. Mirl grabbed the bombardier and helped heave him into the basket, following immediately behind.

As the basket lifted off, yet more attackers appeared from the trees. The radio operator pulled himself up to the autogun and began strafing them. Mirl cocked his shot pistol and fired at an attacker making a leap for the basket. The incendiary ignited inside the body as it cartwheeled away.

The basket was hardly a safe distance away when the charges started going off. The few figures still standing on the wing ran toward the trees again, too late as explosions collapsed the plane and detonated fuel. The fireball that had once been the pride of the Southern Air Army dropped to the forest floor.

Heavensent 9.6
Heavensent 9.4
Heavensent 1.1

Technorati tag: Fiction, Heavensent

They stayed inside the yellow lines as planes were tractored past them onto elevators. Engineers and air crew dashed back and forth, but everyone was too engrossed in their tasks to notice the three strangers in unmarked overalls. Still Sheel kept her arm locked and ready down by her side.

An ammunition loader, clipping shells into a chain, scattered bullets off his table. He grabbed another handful and continued. Bobb scooped three from the floor and gave them to Sheel. She slid them into the hole in her upper arm and willed explosive fragmentary projectiles be made from them.

Huge doors had been rolled open, to reveal a multi level hangar. A three motored transport plane was being pulled through the gap. Several rows of soldiers awaited its arrival. Swapped glances and shaken heads ruled that escape plan out. With the plane past, Bobb headed for a small door in the far wall.

They were back in human sized corridors, keeping left- as was the etiquette- and heading against the prevailing flow. The uniforms around them carried far more, and more complex, rank insignia. Still no one questioned their presence, however.

There was a large briefing room, with pilots grouped around a relief map. Bobb spotted briefing notes on a table just inside the door and grabbed some. “It’ll be nice to know where we’re going.”

The crowd thinned out as their route wound down side corridors. Finally they opened a door and were out in the open. They were looking out on the rear of a giant, moving island. There was a roar as a pair of planes flew overhead, having just taken off far above. Far below, a docking bay carved out of the structure of the ship held two flying boats. “This is huge. How could anyone build something this large?” Sheel had relaxed enough to unlock her arm, there was no movement below.

“They’d ask us the same question if they knew how we got here.” Bobb gestured with the maps, “You can fly one of those?”

“I’ve got all the principles. I don’t think I’ll kill us.”

“That’s reassuring. Let’s get off this thing.”

Heavensent 9.5
Heavensent 9.3
Heavensent 1.1

Technorati tag: Fiction, Heavensent

Note This is Friday’s installment, delayed by a busy weekend.

The patrol boat circled around seaward of Stran island and headed back into the turbulent waters of the inlet. They had been seeding the water with scuttling charges, hoping to shake loose any more human torpedoes like the one currently lying on the rear deck. Two engine men were examining it.

It was near impossible to see anything. The fresh water was glass clear and ice cold, but it was mixing with the warm, thick and murky sea water. The two flows curled around each other, creating a milky green wash. Still crewmen stared over the side, priming and tossing the scuttling charges at the merest hint of a shadow.

There was a cry from the high view. The boat changed attitude and turned toward an object on the surface. The autoguns opened up, churning the water around the barrel shaped target.

At the back of the boat, the engine men cursed as the sudden turn threw them over. The senior man stayed down. Certain he had heard something, he pressed an ear to the body of the torpedo. There was a low, insistent ticking. He shouted, screaming at his junior to throw the bomb overboard. They strained at the torpedo trying to lift it. Other crew members watched with confusion, what was this panic about?

The explosion obliterated the rear half of the boat. The front was thrown spans into the air, tumbling to crash upside down in the choppy water.

Heavensent 9.4
Heavensent 9.2
Heavensent 1.1

Technorati tag: Fiction, Heavensent