lieutenant became increasingly worried. Something had to have happened to
his commander.
Smith hadn’t gotten a good look at whatever it was, but he knew his video
camera had it all down. That part of the mission was over. Now all they
had to do was get back safely. He concentrated on guiding his plane back
on what he was pretty sure was a reciprocal heading while he kept running
through the channels on his radios. Mick would be along, he was sure. And
if he wasn’t then that video tape was doubly important
Suddenly Smith’s radar and radios were working again. Quickly he shifted
to his assigned frequency, keyed his mike and began reporting what had
happened.
Lieutenant Smith wasn’t at all sure what he had seen down there, but he
was reasonably sure the Soviets didn’t have anything to do with it.
Patrol Two stayed in the open to make searching for land easier, but the
rider also kept close to the clouds to hide quickly if need be. Off on the
far horizon, the rider saw a thin line that seemed to be land. The dragon
saw it too and surged forward, its wing beats picking up strength as it
flew.
Patrol Two was just starting to relax when another of the roaring gray
monsters burst out of the clouds above and in front of them less than half
a bowshot off.
Instantly, the rider rolled the dragon right and ducked into the clouds.
As the misty gray swallowed them up, Patrol Two had a quick glimpse of the
thing rolling into a turn to follow them.
So stiff, Patrol Two thought. Its wings don’t move even in a turn and the
rest of the body stays rigid as well. Whatever the things were, they
weren’t dragons.
Senior Lieutenant Abrin spent the next ten minutes dodging in and out of
the clouds looking for the thing again. Although his plane did not have a
video imaging system like the F-15s and it had all happened so quickly he
hadn’t had time to turn on his gun cameras, he had gotten a good look at
the object before it disappeared.
Lieutenant Abrin had no doubts about what he had just seen. His most
prized possessions were a Japanese VCR and a bunch of bootlegged American
movies. The more he thought about it the more obvious it was to him what
was going on.
“Comrades. Do we have any information on Spielberg making a movie in this
area?”
Twenty-five: MAROONED
Warm! Mick Gilligan thought as he spluttered his way to the surface. The
water’s warm.
By rights it ought to be nearly freezing. But it was nearly as tepid as
the Caribbean.
Nothing but surprises, he thought as he pulled his seat pack to the
surface with the cord attached to his leg. At least this one is pleasant.
He unsnapped the cover on the top half and inflated his raft.
Wait a minute! There are sharks in the Caribbean. He redoubled his
struggles to get into the raft.
It wasn’t easy. An Air Force survival raft is about the size of a child’s
wading pool and it is designed to be stable once the pilot is in it, not
to be easy to get into. Gilligan was encumbered by his arctic survival
suit, his G-suit and his flight suit. He wanted to hurry for fear of
sharks, but he didn’t want to splash too much for fear of attracting them.
If there had been anyone to watch, it might have been fairly amusing. But
there wasn’t and Gilligan himself wasn’t at all amused.
Once he had flopped into the raft he tried to orient himself. The one
thing that hadn’t changed was the fog. It was dense and thick everywhere.
The air was a good deal colder than the water, so that wasn’t astonishing,
but it didn’t explain why the water was so warm.
He pulled the seat pack into the raft and set it on his lap while he undid
the catches on the bottom. Inside was a standard Air Force survival kit,
including food, medical supplies and a lot of other necessities. Right now
he was most interested in the radio and the emergency transponder.