The bounce to the airport is uneventful. At the outskirts we let Sean out of the coffin so he can point out a plane for us.
“Did I really volunteer myself for that?” He’s rubbing shoulders and legs and other parts as he climbs out. It doesn’t take him long … he points.
“All those pink-colored jets being loaded will be out tonight. Take any one.”
The loading area he points at is brightly lit and bustling.
Al points. “I see some more pink ones over there … and they’re quiet and in the dark.”
“Yeah, they probably won’t fly tonight, either. They’ll likely get maintained tomorrow.”
“Any way to tell when they’re close to finished loading?” Chin asks.
“Well, these people don’t waste time. I’d guess all the doors closing is a good sign.” Sean sighs. “Air cargo is not my field of expertise.”
“How about the pilots?” asks Gunther.
“Hmm … good idea,” says Sean. “They’ll be dressed distinctively, and they aren’t going to be in the cockpit any sooner than they have to … I guess. … Ah, I see one now. … You see that pair?”
We see two people with distinctly different headgear. “Got ’em,” I say. “When they get on, a plane is real close to departure time?”
“It’s the best sign I can think of,” says Sean. “If they fly like I do they’ll spend fifteen minutes warming the bird up then start taxiing.
“OK, folks! First, watch those two that are getting in their plane now. Let’s see how long after entry it takes them to button up. Second, we keep watching and as soon as the pilots for the last ship in line go in we bounce in after them. Sean, at that point you’re in the coffin again, right?”
“Got it.”
Pairs of pilots are heading across the ramp every five minutes. The third pair heads for the last plane in the line. “Our boys,” announces Chin.
“I’m in,” says Sean. We button him up. But just then a ground vehicle comes in sight moving slowly along the perimeter.
“Move out before he gets here,” I order and we start bouncing.
We have to move down 500 meters of busy ramp to get to our plane. We swing wide and bounce to the far side of the taxi way. It’s being used but it’s not jammed up with waiting traffic. We bounce the first 300 meters down the grass beside it.
A plane turns onto the taxi way. If we didn’t have the coffin we might have tried hiding, but pilots hate surprises, so where planes are moving on airfields there are few places to conceal anything. We cross back to the ramp before the plane gets near and bounce along with a line of baggage carts.
50 meters to go … the tractor pulling the line of carts turns towards the buildings. Nothing to do now but sprint and hope.…
Someone coming out of the plane spots us. Al grabs him, takes him in with us, and pins him to the floor. The “him” turns out to be a her. She has a radio helmet. We pull Sean out of the coffin double quick to deal with her. Gunther and Chin do a fast survey of the interior.
“Clear up to the cockpit,” says Chin. “We are not noticed.”
Sean looks at the woman worker and motions her to silence. Then we hear on her radio helmet, “Gladys, are you coming out of there?”
“Oh, shit, what now?” I think. “This was going too well.” Sean has a blank look on his face.…
Al picks up the ball on this one. He whispers to the woman, “Tell him you’re already out. You went to take a dump.” She repeats it into the helmet.
“What?” says the voice on the other end.
“You missed me. I’m out,” the woman extemporizes.
“… OK, Captain, button up and you’re good to go.”
We hear many motors start whining: The cargo door motor, the jet engines on their power-up, motors for flaps and other control surfaces.
Al manacles the woman’s hands behind her. She’s being cooperative so he does it quickly but nicely. The goal of the cuffs is to relieve the hostage from the worry that they have to do something—and us from the worry that they’ll try. Now she can sit still and enjoy the show.
“Gunther, Chin, Sean, you have the cockpit. Sean, I expect you can right-seat this plane, even if you can’t fly it, right?”
“Right,” says Sean.
“OK. When we take over, you do that. When should we transition?”
“Let them get out of the local air traffic area. I’ll give you a high sign.”
“Give it to Gunther and Chin. Gunther and Chin, Sean will signal you when it’s time to make a move.”
I motion Sean to the front of the plane, then have him stop as I say, “Sean, find out from this lady where this plane is bound for?”
He reports, “Good news. We don’t have to change course for over an hour. I say let our friends up front fly until then.”
“How likely is it that they will hear something about us?”
“Hmm … good point. With Gladys along it will be sooner rather than later and the copilot will come back to confirm she’s not on board. Unless they suspect hijacking … in which case they’ll try to barricade the cockpit and call for a fighter escort. … OK … yeah … we need control as soon as these pilots lift off and we need to be monitoring the radio right now.”
“Chin, Gunther? Can you hear their radio?”
“We can, Commander.”
“Keep an ear out for their knowing about a hijacking. Move if you hear anything suspicious.
“Sean, take Gladys’ helmet and you better head up front.
“Al, you have the back of the plane and our lady friend. I’m reserve.”
“We are number three in line for takeoff,” announces Chin.
“That crew chief is calling for Gladys,” announces Sean.
“We are number two,” announces Chin.
“They are calling for a takeoff abort,” announces Chin.
“Easy, easy … Pick up the copilot as he comes back,” I say.
The captain curses and the copilot does come back … We have them!
Taking the right-side copilot seat, Sean tells the captain, “Count to ten. Then tell Control we’ve done the check. Negatory on ground crew on the plane. Oh … and keep your hands clear of the transponder. We don’t want any accidents.”
The captain does as he’s told and he’s convincing. We’re back in line.
“Number three,” announces Chin, again.
“Can we cut the line?” Gunther asks Sean.
“This plane is designed to fly straight and level at ten thousand meters. Even if we beeline at ten thousand meters it will take an hour to get to friendly airspace. On a peaceful Sunday morning that military base north of here can scramble jets in twenty minutes. This evening has been far from peaceful; I wouldn’t be surprised if there are jets in the air already and the pilots are just wishing and praying for a bogey. We can’t afford to become that bogey.
“You understand that as well, Captain?” The captain nods.
“Number two,” announces Chin.
“Al, bring everyone to the front,” I order. “No reason for them to be left in the cold.”
“There’s rising traffic on the helmet channel about Gladys,” Sean reports.
“Number one,” says Chin.
“Abort takeoff. Check again for ground crew,” the tower orders.
The captain doesn’t miss a beat. He harrumphs in his best captain style, “Roger, understand cleared for takeoff. Those donor organs in my cargo bay thank you,” and pushes the throttles forward. We roll. He’s sweating; we’re all sweating.
The tower says, “Switch to local control frequency.” We’ve been handed off normally. The plane must swell a half inch on the combined exhale.
The captain continues, “I don’t know how it is on your world … you must be Kull, right? But I just lost my job with that stunt. Come to think of it, I probably lost my job as soon as you hopped on my plane.” He sighs, “Except for staying alive, this is not my day.”
He’s an old timer and I sympathize, but I can’t do much else at this moment.
We let the flight follow its normal route until it gets close to provincial airspace, then the captain gets on the air and reports mechanical difficulties. He heads for the nearest airport in the province. Only then are we close enough for Sean to call for an air escort, and only after the escort arrives do we divert to Verdant.
But the day is not over yet.