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The massive aircraft raced across the surface of the dark water, churning up froth and cutting a broad wake as it fought its way through the choppy waves. Dodge Dalton focused on its silver outline, his heart falling even as the plane took off and slowly gained altitude. He let out a whispered curse, watched it shrink from sight in the distance.
We’ve failed.
Cold wind and salty spray spattered his face, running down his cheeks in rivulets like tears, but the despair he felt was beyond sadness. He fought to suppress the images that flashed through his mind, the evils that would be unleashed. Breath came in gulps, rage ran in tremors through his body. Thousands of miles from civilization, no help coming, and nothing he could do. He felt impotent.
“There’s another plane!” Hurley’s cry jarred him from his reverie. He pointed at a diminutive craft floating on the swells. “It’s the Duck!”
The Grumman JF “Duck” was a single-engine amphibious biplane. Compared to the massive X-314 that was even now drawing farther away, it was like a fly on an elephant’s backside. But it was all they had. And though it lacked the larger craft’s range, it was every bit as fast.
His heart raced. A scant hope remained.
Molly’s on that plane. And the president. We have to try.
They made their way to the floating plane, steadying themselves atop its pontoons as the tiny craft rose and fell along with each cresting swell. They piled in as quickly as they dared. Dodge settled into the pilot’s well while the others slid into the observer’s compartment. He took a moment to familiarize himself with the controls before starting up the Wright Cyclone engine. All the while he was keenly aware that the X-314 was getting farther away with each second that passed.
The tiny plain surged forward, battered to and fro by the waves until it gained sufficient speed to take to the sky. The craft banked and yawed, the turbulent sea churning just feet beneath the tips of its wings as it teetered its way skyward. Dodge was impressed that his companions chose not to critique or react to his flying as he overcorrected several times before getting the feel of the plane.
He guided the plane upward on a steep trajectory, seeking to climb above the weather and give them a better chance of spotting their quarry. He kept the throttle wide open as he fought to gain ground on their quarry. What did it matter if he burned out the engine? If they didn’t catch up with the X-314, so much more would be lost.
Hurley served as navigator, guiding them along the larger plane’s path, until they finally spotted it, its running lights twinkling in the distance. For the first time since the chase had begun, he felt a glimmer of hope. Hoping luck was finally on their side, he nudged the engine a little farther into the red, gaining another five knots of speed, then turned the aircraft into a dive, gaining a couple more.
The lights grew larger and brighter. Dodge’s heart leaped as the Duck ate up the intervening airspace. He glanced down at the fuel gauge. It had been at half-a-tank when they took off, and now it was down to a quarter. It was going to be a close thing. They had to close the remaining space and make their move before the engines ran dry. He resisted the urge to look down at the dark sea as he contemplated the possibility that it would be his grave.
He glanced over his shoulder toward his companions seated in the rear of the cockpit. . “When we get close enough, try to shoot out the engines. If we can force them to land, maybe we’ll have a chance.”
Each man replied in the affirmative. They were disciplined soldiers and would not disobey an order from their leader, no matter how mad it might sound.
The enormous flying boat seemed to materialize in front of them, a dark spot growing larger, details becoming visible. Once again he marveled at its size. It was difficult to believe that such a behemoth could even float, much less fly.
Hurley pushed the cowling back and leaned out of one side of the plane, Hobbs the other. Dodge brought the Duck up above the Boeing and then dove, giving his companions the best possible field of fire.
Light flashed and sparks flew as the men scored hits on both starboard engines. The inner propeller continued to spin but smoke poured from the outer. Dodge brought the plane up again to assess the damage before making another attack run, but was forced to roll the plane as the Boeing’s weapons returned fire.
“Damn!” He had hoped the Boeing’s occupants would have taken a bit longer to register the tiny plane’s presence, but no such luck. What was more, the damage they had dealt to its engine was sufficient to draw the crew’s attention, but not enough to slow the plane’s progress. He rolled again as another burst of fire threatened to knock them from the sky.
The Duck took a glancing hit to the fuselage, forcing Dodge to take it into a dive, and then climb again as the Boeing’s gunners adjusted their fire.
“What now?” Hurley shouted.
Dodge had only one answer. The Boeing was too large, could withstand too much damage. He had to do something desperate, crazy. Heart in his throat, he shouted back to his men.
“Hang on! And be ready to move!”
He didn’t add that there was a fair chance none of them would be able to move when this was over. But they had certain protections, high-tech exoskeletons, that would keep them safe.
He hoped.
Here goes nothing.
He pushed the stick forward and the tiny craft dove like a bird of prey. Closer, closer...
And then it swooped down onto the tail section of the giant X-314. The Duck’s propeller blades sliced through the aluminum skin like hot knives through melted butter. With an ear-splitting shriek and a thunderous boom, the Duck smashed into the Boeing’s cabin.
Dodge, he thought as the Duck’s wings snapped off and its remaining fuel sprayed out onto the deck and a spark from the smoldering engine set it alight, you’d better hope you haven’t killed us all.