Last Flight For Craggy (11 page)

'Yes. Hey.
You're the one who did all that space walking, to save the
pods.'

'And now I'm a
glorified toilet cleaner. Let that be a lesson to you.'

'Craggy. We
really have to go.'

'Take her away,
Dillow.'

'Hold your
fire,' said Forbes, running towards them.

'Commander
Forbes. Dad. Come to wave me off?'

'Not exactly,
Fawn,' said Commander Dillow. 'We got big trouble.'

'Dad. I'm about
to go to Mars.'

'Listen, Fawn.
The ship going to Earth. We have to stop it.'

'Are you
serious?'

Forbes said,
'Never more serious. The West have found a way to turn marsillium
into a terrible weapon. They plan to eliminate the East.'

'My God. But
what am
I
supposed to do about it?'

Forbes
explained, 'The ship has a manual override. We need to put a pilot
in it to take control of the ship.'

'Come on,
Fawn,' said Lance Dillow. 'We have to go.'

'We?'

'I'm coming
with you.'

'Are you a
pilot now, Dad?'

'Well, no.'

'Sorry, Dad.
You're not much use to me, then.'

'I'm a pilot,'
said Rocky.

'Maybe in a few
years,' said Fawn. 'I need a real pilot for this job.'

Forbes said,
'Fawn. We are out of time. We have to go after that ship.'

'Err, excuse
me. I'm a real pilot.'

'Craggy!' they
all shouted at once.

Cragg shrugged.
'I can always go clean more toilets if you want?'

Fawn said,
'Come on, Craggy. Let's go catch a ship.'

'Hey. Anybody
want these pods?'

'Sorry, Angus,'
said Fawn Dillow. 'Been a change of plan. See you when I get
back.'

Angus watched
the blue plasma drives head off towards the Earth. 'Hey, Dillow.
Mars is the other way. Women. No damned sense of direction.'

On the ship,
Dillow was entering the revised coordinates into the computer.
'Cutting it fine. We have nine and a half hours to catch that ship,
then it goes into Earth's atmosphere.'

'Do you have a
plan?' asked Cragg.

Dillow said,
'Catch up with the ship, then one of us has to get on board, take
over the manual controls and fly it back to the Moon.'

'Sounds easy
when you put it like that.'

'Can I help?'
asked Rocky.

'Can you cook?'
asked Cragg.

'Why do I keep
getting asked that?'

'Because we are
hungry,' said Dillow. 'See what you can rustle up.'

'Ninety two
average and I get to cook,' mumbled Rocky, shuffling away to the
galley.

'What's up with
the kid?' asked Cragg.

Dillow said,
'Wants to be a pilot.'

'How old is he,
twelve?'

'Nearly twenty.
I think he's started shaving. Stella. Calling Stella.'

'I'm here.'

'Stella. We're
full bore here. Can we cut anything off the time?'

'Big Bird is on
a clockwise orbit around the Earth. Take an anticlockwise path and
that'll be the shortest distance.'

'I'll put it up
on the screen. Don't go away, Stella.'

The massive
screen had a clear shot of the Earth. No sign of the ship.

'Okay. We are
here, our target should be coming out there. That gives us the
distance, factor in our top speed, factor in the target's speed,
and I calculate the time as being eight hours, forty two minutes,
eighteen seconds. Stella?'

'I have the
same numbers. We now have eight hours, fifty six minutes before the
ship starts its entry into Earth's orbit.'

Cragg shared a
look with Dillow and said, 'It wouldn't be any fun if it were too
easy.'

Dillow said, 'I
got just one question?'

'Yeah?'

'Where's that
damn food?'

The West didn't
have everything all their own way. The East knew they had a lot to
protect, and their own surveillance had also picked up on their
enemies plans. They were not the types to roll over and let the
West have the upper hand for too long. Attacking the West was
considered, and promptly dismissed.

The planet was
hanging by a frayed thread so kicking it while it was down was self
defeating. The immediate problem was a dirty great ship from the
Moon with a payload the West intended to transform into a weapon
powerful enough to destroy half the planet. The Eastern half.

Tim Lin Lee,
Principal of the East, drove the vehicle along what had once been
an excellent highway, now barely passable with the burnt out wrecks
liberally scattered along it. This was one area where jungle had
defied the odds and not only survived, but flourished; roots of
deformed trees breaking up the tar-seal in places, adding to the
hazardous journey. Tim Lin Lee, had taken over the job as the
Principal of the East, inherited from his late father. He had been
passed a poison chalice, and was stuck with it.

He had tried to
mend bridges with the West; to salvage what they could between
them. The West didn't even trust themselves, so there was no chance
of any lasting peace with the East. Resigned to that, the East
under his leadership, made what progress they could. Their
surveillance of Westmont had revealed the latest threat from the
West and he was determined to thwart it.

So as not to
set off alarm bells in the paranoid Westmont politicians, Lee drove
himself, unescorted, towards the missile base, hidden in a valley
at the foot of a range of mountains. Around him, he sensed that
eyes were watching him, tribes that thought their best chance of
survival was to keep away from the main centres, existing any way
they could. It wouldn't pay to breakdown here.

Eventually, he
reached the turn-off to the rough trail that led to the missile
base. A large woman in a patched up military uniform, her boots
held together with tape, stood to attention as Lee parked, and
saluted. Lee got out of the vehicle and returned the salute.

'At ease,
Commandant Tzu. I have something for you.'

From the rear
seat of the vehicle, he picked up a parcel and handed it to Tzu.
Tzu opened it, and found the new uniform and boots. Boots! She was
close to tears.

'All new. Your
size?'

'My size. Thank
you, Principal Lee.'

'You are most
welcome.'

Tzu relaxed,
ready to give the Principal of the East the guided tour. Behind
her, a highly polished missile stood ready for action. Lee took off
his cap and ran a handkerchief over his bald head and pointed at
the missile.

'Just how old
is that thing?'

'Less than
forty years old,' said Military Missile Commandant Din Tee Tzu,
proudly. 'Your father commissioned it.' She took her position
seriously and with a zero budget, ancient equipment, unqualified
personnel, performed minor miracles on a daily basis.

'How many
missiles do we have?'

'You're looking
at it.'

Lee said,
'Right,' hiding his disappointment. 'Dare I ask, will it go?'

'Will it go?
Will it go?'

'Will it
go?'

'It will
go.'

'But,' said Tim
Lin Lee. 'Can we control where it goes?'

'It is heat
seeking. Follow me, Sir,' said Tzu.

It was a
reinforced concrete bunker she led him into which had a bank of
computers with two school children playing some old three
dimensional holographic game, squealing as wart infested gremlins
decapitated each other. Tzu turned their game off which got howls
of teenage protestations.

'And these
children are...?' Lee asked.

'Mine. Amy and
Danny.'

Lee looked
around the bunker. 'Where are the technicians?'

'Here. Amy and
Danny.'

Lee frowned at
Tzu. 'Where are the real technicians?'

With a waggle
of her finger, she called Lee outside. 'Sir. I have had no
technicians for three years. They died of the plague.'

Lee, singularly
unimpressed, folded his arms and demanded, 'Why wasn't I
informed?'

'I did inform
you. Three years ago. Two years ago, one year ago, six months ago,
last week...'

'I get the
message.'

'Apparently
not.'

'So. Who fires
the missile?'

Tzu pointed at
the bunker. 'My kids. Very good on computers.'

Lee checked the
time. 'We have...seven hours and forty three minutes. We need to
destroy that ship before the West destroys us. All of us.'

'Let's ask the
kids. Be nice.'

Lee sighed and
shook his head, forced a smile and followed Tzu back in the
bunker.

'Amy. Danny.
This nice man is the Principal. He wants...Amy. Get rid of the gum,
please. Thank you. Principal Lee wants you to shoot down that big
ship up there.'

Amy and Danny
looked at each other, then at Lee. 'Do we get paid?' asked Amy.

'Paid? Paid? I
am Prin...'

'Principal
Lee,' said Danny. 'Yeah. Got that. I like your hat.'

'Give him your
hat,' whispered Tzu.

Lee went puce.
'What?'

'Give him your
damn hat. And smile.'

Lee smiled and
graciously handed the boy his hat. Danny put it on, but backwards.
Amy held her hand out.

Lee looked at
Tzu and gestured “what now?”

'Amy?'

'I like his
watch.'

'Give her your
watch.'

'Excuse me?'
gasped Lee. 'This watch belonged to my great grandfather.'

'Give her the
damn watch.'

Lee took off
his precious gold watch, the one promised to his own son, and gave
it to Amy.

'Now. Will you
shoot the damn ship?'

Both kids
shrugged.

'Please?'

'Yeah,
okay.'

Lee bowed.
'Thank you. Good luck.'

The kids
weren't listening. They were busy arguing over who was to launch
the missile.

'I gotta go,'
said Lee.

'Sir. You
should stay in the bunker.'

'No, no and
no.'

Lee stormed off
to the car he had driven there himself, unescorted, his heart now
sinking, knowing the future of the planet rested in the sticky
hands of two insolent teenagers. Fifty yards from the car, he heard
a disturbing rumbling sound. A glance over his shoulder told him
the missile was about to launch. Disturbing clouds of smoke
bellowed from the bottom of it followed by snaking flames.

He started
running. FAST! He was trying to outrun flames, not keen on being
flambéed, racing past the car with the flames in hot pursuit, and
he dived into the surrounding bushes head first. The car exploded
flying fifteen feet into the air, and Lee, his hair full of leaves
and twigs, poked his head above the undergrowth. The missile was
roaring away into the sky.

Lee spat out a
mouthful of dirt. 'Shit!'

'Not a bad
cook, young Rocky,' said Cragg, wiping his chin.

'Very nicely
cooked fish,' said Dillow.

'Thanks,' said
Rocky. 'How much longer until we reach the ship?'

'Three hours,
seventeen minutes,' said Cragg.

Rocky said, 'So
shouldn't we be making plans?'

'Plans?' said
Cragg. 'Don't need one. We get close as we can to the ship, I go
over, go inside, take over the ship, and fly her to the Moon.'

'You fly the
ship back?' gasped Rocky, shocked.

'Of course I
do. I mean, Dillow here, has to fly this one, so I have to fly the
other one. Hardly rocket science. Well, actually, I suppose it is
rocket science.'

'Sir. With
respect, I should fly the other ship to the Moon.'

Cragg sighed.
'Rocky, Rocky, Rocky. Don't take offence, but this is a job for an
experienced pilot.'

'And you, Sir,
please don't take offence, but haven't you been retired as a
pilot?'

Dillow said,
'He does have a point, Craggy.'

'He most
certainly does not. Rocky. Have you actually ever flown a
ship?'

'Well, I did
score a ninety two average in the simulator.'

'Sim...bloody
simulator? That is not a damn ship.'

'But I do have
a pilots licence, unlike you.'

'Provisional
licence,' Dillow reminded him. 'You only get your full tickets if I
sign you off.'

Rocky said,
'I'd say a provisional licence trumps no licence at all.'

'He does have a
point, Craggy.'

'He does not
have a point. I've been piloting ships for more than fifty
years.'

'Exactly,' said
Rocky. 'That ship is a brand new, state of the art ship. I've been
trained in all its technology, where as...'

'I used to fly
coal fired ships I suppose. Steered by the stars, no doubt. Put my
hand out the window to tell the wind direction.'

Dillow snapped,
'Craggy...'

Cragg continued
unabated. 'And what about space walks? How many of those have you
done?'

'Five.'

'Actually in
space?'

'Well, not
actually in space.'

Cragg stood up
and glowered at Rocky. 'Then you have never walked in space.'

'Oi, you two,'
snapped Dillow. 'Pull your heads in or I'll have you both space
walking, but without safety lines.'

Cragg sat back
down, folded his arms and sulked as Rocky stormed off to the
galley.

'Exactly fifty
minutes until we meet up with the ship,' said Dillow.

Cragg got up,
stretched and yawned. 'I'm off to bed. Goodnight, Dillow.'

'Craggy?'

'What? I can't
fly this bird, and you and boy wonder made it abundantly clear the
only rockets an old fart like me can fly are the ones you light the
blue touch paper on. Wake me up when it's all over.'

'Craggy.'

'It's okay.
I'll only be in the way. I'm sure you two can handle it.'

'Stella to
Dillow. Stella to Dillow.'

'Come in,
Stella.'