‘You said it’d fly!’
‘It will fly!’
The missile closes in.
The Loach screams to life. Corey grins his crooked grin and throttles up. Blades roar, dust blasts and the Loach lifts off and swings over to the burning ute. The flames engulf the chopper on all sides. The missile alters course, follows them.
Judd looks at Corey, dumbfounded. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
Corey wrenches the controls and the Loach shoots upwards.
The missile slams into the burning ute and detonates. The shock wave punches the underside of the Loach, drives it up and forward, pitches it over the approaching black chopper.
Corey’s ecstatic. ‘See what I did? The missile was a heat-seeker!’
‘How’d you know that?’
‘I guessed.’
‘Guessed?’ Judd is horrified.
‘Correctly! Guessed correctly.’ The Australian taps his temple. ‘I’m always thinking!’ He glances in the side-view mirror and his euphoria instantly transforms to disappointment as the black chopper completes a steep U-turn then pursues them. ‘Damn.’
Judd sees it too. ‘What did you expect?’
‘I was hoping they’d be discouraged.’
Judd notices the telescope in the pouch beside Corey’s seat. He grabs it, aims it out the open door and pans it across the sky until he locates the black chopper. He focuses on its occupants.
‘No!’ He yanks the telescope from his eye. ‘Can’t be.’
Dirk Popanken sits in the Tiger’s weapon officer’s seat behind and above the pilot. His left hand triggers the binocular lens system built into the fuselage below the rotor blades. The lens zooms, focuses on the guy leaning out the doorway of the Loach helicopter and the image is projected onto the perspex visor of the German’s Top Hawk helmet.
He lets out a sharp laugh. It’s the astronaut, Judd Bell, alive and well and in Central Australia. If Dirk wasn’t looking at him he wouldn’t believe it. He’s got to hand it to the guy, he’s hard to kill.
Dirk’s earpiece crackles. ‘Are we close enough yet?’ It’s the other German, Big Bird, the pilot who sits in front of Dirk. He’s being his usual blunt self. Dirk hadn’t managed to destroy the little yellow chopper with the missiles he’d already fired and Big Bird is unimpressed. The Top Hawk helmet is tricky to operate and it’s taking Dirk a while to get the hang of its ‘look to aim, blink to shoot’ targeting system.
‘Almost.’
‘Can you get it right this time?’
‘Consider it practice.’
‘It’s only practice if you improve. We only have so many missiles, you know.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.’
‘Tango in Berlin.’ Judd can’t believe it, realises he should have googled the guy’s real name back in Florida.
Corey glances at Judd. “‘Tango in Berlin?” I love that song.’
‘Well, the guy who sang it is trying to kill you.’
‘What? But I bought his album. Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure.’
Streaks of light erupt from the black chopper’s cannons and slice towards the Loach. Corey sees them in the side-view mirror and jolts the Loach into a steep, curling dive. ‘Hold on!’
‘Sweet Jesus!’ Judd grabs the doorframe, watches the red desert race up to met him as the bullets slide past.
‘Whoa!’ The Loach lurches left and all Judd can see is blue sky. They’re barely 10 metres off the deck. Judd can’t help but be impressed. This guy can fly.
The astronaut tries to process what’s going on. Why is Tango in Berlin here? He goes straight to Ockham’s Razor and the simplest answer: they’re going to land Atlantis out here.
The black chopper’s cannons blaze. Corey tips the Loach hard right but this time he’s not quick enough. A bullet slams into its fuselage. The turbine coughs.
‘Damn it!’ Corey focuses on the gauges. A buzzer sounds. A light blinks. ‘Losing fuel pressure.’
Judd looks back. Smoke pours from the Loach’s rear hatch. ‘We got smoke! Lots of it!’
‘I know.’ Corey can see it in his side-view mirror. He turns to Judd. ‘In the side hatch is the fuel line. It’s red. I think there’s a hole in it. You need to plug it.’ He holds up a stick of chewing gum. ‘With this.’
Judd looks at the gum, then Corey, then the gum. ‘What?’
‘Climb along the skid, open the hatch and cover the hole with the gum.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘Do it now!’
Judd considers his options. He can do nothing and die. Do something and die. Or do something and succeed — then get word out that Atlantis is going to land in Central Australia. What would a steely-eyed missile man do?
Judd grabs the gum, unwraps it and shoves it in his mouth. He then unbuckles his seatbelt, pulls off the headset, sees the winch, unlocks it, drags out three metres of rope, locks it, wraps the rope around his waist and knots it tight.
Corey watches, tries to work out how he does it. ‘Careful with the hatch. The hinges are loose.’
Judd nods, grips the doorframe with both hands and swings onto the landing skid. Wind smacks into his back. He jams his heels down, takes a breath and turns to the rear hatch. It’s less than two metres away but it feels like hundreds.
The black chopper closes in.
Judd slides towards the hatch as fast as he can, one hand wrapped around the doorframe, the other flat against the Loach’s fuselage.
Bullets spit from the black chopper’s cannons, slash towards the Loach. The yellow chopper tips hard right. ‘Christ!’ Judd goes horizontal, thumps his chin against the fuselage as the bullets zip past. Then the Loach tips hard left and Judd is yanked upright again.
The hatch is half a metre away. Judd hits the end of the skid with his foot, reaches for the door’s circular twist lock.
The black chopper surges forward. It’s as close as it’s been. It won’t miss from there. Judd stretches for the lock, touches it.
‘Ahhh!’ It’s hot. He ignores the pain, grabs the lock, twists it. A ball of flame blasts the hatch door open. The wind catches hold of it and rips it off its hinges.
In his side-view mirror the Australian watches the door flip away. ‘I really should’ve fixed that.’
The door spins through the air like a ninja star — and slams into the Tiger’s windscreen. It doesn’t shatter the glass but it jams there, one side wedged under the maintenance handgrip built into the frame.
Judd watches the black chopper slow to a hover then descend to the desert.
‘He can’t see where he’s going!’ Judd’s so happy he shouts it. He shuffles back to the cabin, swings inside, pulls on the headset. ‘The hatch came off, jammed on the chopper’s windscreen —’
‘I saw. Now can you tell me why the guy who sang “Tango in Berlin” is trying to kill me?’
‘I don’t know why he’s trying to kill you but I know why he’s trying to kill me.’
Corey’s confused. ‘Kill you? What?’
‘I’m an astronaut. From NASA. The guy in the chopper is one of the crew who hijacked shuttle Atlantis off the pad at Cape Canaveral two days ago.’
Corey stares at him. ‘Come on, I’m not an idiot.’
Spike barks.
‘That doesn’t count.’ Corey studies Judd. ‘A space shuttle was hijacked?’
‘You haven’t seen the news?’
‘No.’
‘It’s been all over the TV.’
‘I don’t presently own a television.’
‘What about the radio?’
‘I listen to tapes.’
‘The internet?’
‘It’s so slow out here there’s no point.’