Dunneldeen glanced at his watch. It meant that the twelve-hour radio silence was over, that was all. Probably a babble of news. Dunneldeen had no idea at all that things had gone other than successfully at the other minesites or that they'd succeeded at the compound. He got back into his flight clothes. No hurry. He took his time.
What a busy night it had been. His and Dwight's plan had been to bring the
Chiefs across the sea to celebrate the victory. They had landed both ships on a flat place two miles off so as not to shock the people, and he had borrowed a horse from a startled farmer he had known and ridden in.
He had gotten his uncle, Chief of Clanfearghus, out of bed, and gillies had flown to light the fires on the hills to gather the clans to hear the news. The minesite in Cornwall was no more. They would be free to roam the whole of England!
The Chief was very fond of his nephew Dunneldeen who was, in fact, his heir. He liked Dunneldeen's style. A true Scot. He had listened enraptured as Dunneldeen had given him a thumbnail but torrential account of all their doings. And if Dunneldeen were a bit incautious, the Chief gave his attention while making very sure to reserve judgment and act in a wise way on the general scene, without spoiling Dunneldeen's flair. So he had ordered the beacons lighted. He was cautiously thrilled.
Dunneldeen had then gone to see a lass and had asked her to marry him, and she had said, “Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes, Dunneldeen!”
That attended to, he had come home for a nice snooze.
Bittie seemed to be trying to remember something else. He was hopping from one bare foot to the other, squinting up his eyes, wiping at his nose. Then the boy seemed to abandon his effort. Dunneldeen was almost dressed.
The boy's eyes caught the sword on the wall. It was a claymore, used in battles and for ceremony. It was a real claid heamh mar, five feet long, not just a basket hilt saber. Bittie was gesturing at it, indicating the prince should wear it. Dunneldeen shook his head to signify no, he wasn't going to take it this time.
When he saw the eagerness die in Bittie's eyes, Dunneldeen relented. He took it down and handed it to him. “All right, but you carry it!” The sword was a foot taller than the boy. Worship, awe, and joy sprang up in the boy again as he draped the hanger around his neck.
Dunneldeen checked his gear and went out. The castle passages and halls were as warm with gillies. They had lochaber axes in their belts and were bustling around with a hundred chores in preparation for a gathering of the clans. Dunneldeen had really thrown a firebrand into the scene. Nobody had been briefed. They didn't know what was going on. Dunneldeen had come home. Orders had been given. Somebody said the Psychlo minesite was no more. There was an awful lot to do.
The ancient ruin had remained a ruin above ground so as to attract minimal attention from drones that had gone over for centuries. Some said the place had once been the seat of Scottish kings. It s dungeons had been expanded and it was a fortress in itself.
Two gillies had Dunneldeen's own horse saddled and it was prancing about. The gillies were smiling broad welcomes to Dunneldeen.
He mounted, and at a signal they tossed the boy up behind him, claid heamh mar and all.
It was raining. A storm apparently had moved in. It had been clear when they landed but now the dawn was thick with overcast.
It was at that moment that Bittie
MacLeod remembered the rest of the message. “Your squire,” he said to Dunneldeen's back, “also say to 'squiggle'!"
The boy's accent was thick, not the accent of an educated Scot. “To what?” demanded Dunneldeen.
“I misremembered, I couldna think of the word,” apologized the boy. “But it did sound like 'squiggle.' "
“Scramble?” asked Dunneldeen. The word that meant emergency takeoff.
“Ah, so 'twas, so 'twas!”
Dunneldeen was off like a shot and two miles were never eaten up so fast by a horse.
They came plunging to a stop on the flat-topped knoll. Dunneldeen looked wildly about. Only the passenger plane was there. He flung himself off the horse and flung the reins to the boy. He opened the door and leaped into the passenger plane, reaching for the radio.
And then Dwight landed nearby, startling the horse into frantic plunging that lifted the boy and the sword off the ground at every rear.
Dunneldeen raced over to Dwight. “It’s gone now,” said Dwight.
There had been no radio messages from the compound. Dwight, as arranged, had faithfully stayed on watch. He had waited for any break in radio silence and the end of the silence itself. The time period had ended, but pilots, not hearing from the compound and Robert the Fox, had not opened up.
But something else peculiar had happened. Dwight had picked up a Psychlo conversation on the planetary plane band, very loud and clear. It seemed loud enough to be within a thousand miles or so, maybe more, hard to tell.
“What did they say?” demanded Dunneldeen.
“I got it all on a disc,” said Dwight. He started the disc. It said "Nup, you crap brain, wake up!”
Dwight said he had at once sent the boy to tell Dunneldeen to scramble and then he himself had gone straight up. Yes, the sudden roar of Dwight’s own engines was there on the disc.
The disc played on.
“Drone?” said Dunneldeen. "Zzt? There was a transport chief named
Zzt.”
“Well, he was out there some place in a drone!” said Dwight. He had gone up as high as he could go. About two hundred thousand feet. As fast as he could go. “Almost tore my heart and lungs out with gravity,” said Dwight.
Then he heard complete instructions in Psychlo about remanding on top of a drone in front of a door so Zzt could get out of the drone.
“There is no drone that big,” said Dunneldeen. “Not that I know of.”
Dwight had turned on every search instrument he had. The transmission had been coming from the northwest. He had sped in that direction. He had gotten it on his scope. It was traveling three hundred two miles per hour, a very positive blip. It was clear weather where the thing had been; this cloud cover and rain was ahead of it.
He played some more transmission. Somebody named "Snit" was still in the drone but no explanation why.
This was mad because drones didn't have pilots. But how could anybody fly anybody out of a drone? And then somebody was taking fuel out of the drone in an ore basket and the other Psychlo said he was leaving the drone.
“Then why are you here?” demanded Dunneldeen, turning toward the passenger plane. “Why didn't you attack it?”
“It blew up,” said Dwight. “I saw it visual, eyeball! It looked like thirty lightning storms! It curved down. It probably went into the sea. I scanned the whole area. There was a little blip left; probably when it sank it had some debris. And then that was gone. It just isn't out there anymore on any scope. So I came back here.”
Dunneldeen played the disc through again. Dunneldeen pulled out the instrument recorders. They told the same story. Heat and then gone.
Dunneldeen looked at the sky. “You better go back up there and patrol in that direction.”
“There won't be any blip,” said Dwight. “And this overcast is high. The thing was flying at about five thousand feet and you won't be able to see a thing visually. The overcast goes up to at least ten. There's no blip,” finished Dwight.
Dunneldeen turned and looked at the castle ruin, gaunt and very old in the morning rain and mist. Two miles away and it was drifting in and out of visibility.
What was that all about? Had the battle of the compound been lost? What drone? And why had it blown up? The clan Chiefs would be assembling and he had a lot of things to do today.