Chapter 36

Katie MacArran’s transformation began on one of those rare, mornings in the Iso Valley when the weather was almost pleasant, a clear sky and a light breeze...just enough to make the warm, humid air feel almost comfortable.   She was in a good mood today for several other reasons as well.  At Drake Hackett’s suggestion, they had written the story of her encounter with the Ayon in three separate chapters.  And when the first two installments been published in the London Observer, the paper had sold out so quickly that George Stafford had been obliged to put out not one but TWO extra editions...as had William Randolph Hearst when the story had hit the pages of his papers.

Today, the third and final chapter of the Ayon saga would be going off to both Britain and America.

And speaking of the Ayon, things were going swimmingly with the tribe of shrew mice.  Very often, when they came down to Iso to gather mine tailings, they would bring along goods to trade.  As a result, Katie was accumulating a sizable collection of native arts and crafts, all of which she intended to donate to the British Museum upon her return to London.  (She had hearts to win back after all.)

It was a major shift of attitude on the pinto mare’s part.  Not two months earlier, any thought of London that intruded upon her consciousness would have been turned away at the gate, but now...

Now, things were different.

When the 'Toonerville trolley' made it’s first runs to the new gold field, it had come back with deposits so rich, the Republic had been obliged to airlift a third dredge into the valley.  Between that and the interests Katie had acquired in the Thrak Le Sapphire mine, (along with a %25 share in a Burmese silver mine that she’d garnered in similar fashion), she had found herself in a place where she had never been before.

For the first time since her arrival in New Guinea, she could begin to actively contemplate her return to civilization.  Not for a while...not yet.  But at least she was within shouting distance.

Later, the pinto mare would reflect that had the weather not been so tolerable and her mood not so high, she might have postponed her flight to Lae -- and the metamorphosis that followed would most likely never have happened.

It began, as does many a consequential sequence of events, with an occurrence of minor significance.  Katie arrived at the hangar only to find that her Lockheed Air Express was refusing, point blank, to get going.  Every time she pressed the starter, the engine would turn over once, give a muddy pop, and then die. 

“Bloody Hell!” growled Drake Hackett, barely restraining himself from kicking the tires as she climbed down from the cockpit, “Don’t understand it, Y’ Grace.  She ‘ad ‘er full tune-up only last week.”

Katie, for her part, was not especially perturbed.  This was hardly the first time either one of her aircraft had taken an impromptu holiday.  At least once the Republic had missed a cargo drop at the mine when the AVRO autogyro’s engine had refused to start.

And speaking of that...

“Never mind, Drake.” she said, “I’ll just take the AVRO.”

“Right-o,” said the canine, without the slightest hint of surprise.  It would hardly the first time she had switched aircraft when the Fortuna had cocked up on her; nothing odd about that, nothing at all. 

When Katie lifted off from the airstrip an hour later, no one in Iso had even the slightest premonition that her aircraft would never return..

The flight to Lae was uneventful, with few if any of the tricky air-currents that permeated New Guinea’s eastern highlands making their presence felt.  It almost made Katie wish that the Republic WAS arriving today; it would have been a piece of cake to guide her to the mining camp. 

Except...Captain Umberto Nobile had recently begun to insist that he and his crew had become so proficient at navigating the Iso valley, the Republic could make the journey without an escort.  Though she had initially balked at the tabby-cat’s suggestion, Katie was slowly coming to agree with him.  Especially on a fine day like today.

Landing at Lae without incident, Katie left the autogyro at Ray Parer’s hangar for refueling while she went first to drop off the mail and then to the telegraph office.  She was disappointed but not surprised to find her Brumby wasn’t around, and hoped he would pay another visit to Iso soon.  After many long weeks, she was finally feeling the need for him in the old, familiar way.

Much of that had to do with a black cat named Ji Su-King, who had arrived in Iso about six months previously.

By trade, Ji was a Chinese herbal doctor; he had a small shop set up on what passed for the mining camp’s main thoroughfare where he dispensed various remedies and tonics to the Iso miners.  At first, Katie had paid him little, if any attention...until shortly after Striper McKenna’s return from Bangkok, when she overheard two of the miners making small talk over the midday break.   In the course of that discussion, one of them had offered the opinion that ‘blue-eye mistress’ might want to pay a visit to Ji’s if the ‘Bat-Ling horse’ was going to continue to keep his company with her. “Yes, I agree.” his companion had responded, “This camp is no place for a foal.”

Slipping away unseen, Katie had made her way to the black cat’s little shop to make some inquiries regarding what she had overheard...and the feline did, in fact have the ingredients available for the ‘remedy’ she wished to acquire.  And, Ji had assured her, as long as she followed his instructions, she need never worry about missing a heat period, no matter what.

(He had also promised to be discreet regarding the reason for her visit -- but only after she paid him double his normal fee...and hinted darkly at a surprise visit from Shang Li-Sung if he didn’t watch his words.)

Katie had fully expected the concoction to be evil tasting in the extreme, but it had turned out to be almost entirely without flavor...and also %100 effective -- at least if the first month’s results were anything to go by.

Dropping off the sacks of mail at Lae’s post office, Katie left without picking any up.  Incoming mail for Iso always arrived by way of the Port Moresby post office, which was not only far more reliable, but which also had far fewer instances of pilferage on the incoming letters and parcels..  Lae, on the other hoof, had recently opened a wireless telegraph office with direct communications to Singapore.  (An impossible feat for Moresby, on the other side of the Owen Stanley Mountains)   This new arrangement considerably shortened the communications time between Iso and London -- which was why Katie was here today.

When she arrived at the telegraph office, there was a three-day-old message waiting for her from Percy Halewell, director of The International Dirigible Company.  She frowned slightly as she read it.  Miss the Republic for a month?  Not as minor an inconvenience as that flying squirrel might have thought.  The dirigible didn’t just bring out gold from the mine, it also brought in spare parts and equipment.  Oh well, thought Katie, a slightly silly smile beginning to work it’s way around her muzzle, she would just have to see if she could arrange for the Battler to bring in the spares and gear instead.

Wasn’t that just TOO bad?
 
With these thoughts in mind, she sent off a reply to London, heartily endorsing Percy Halewell’s decision, then headed back to the airstrip for her return flight to Iso.

When she got there, she found Ray Parer’s brother Kevin waiting there, regarding her with his usual glacial expression.

“All fueled.” he said tonelessly, and turned to walk away, as he always did.  This time, and Katie would never know why, she put a hoof on his arm.

“Hold on a second, Kev.” she said, and the Brumby turned rapidly around.

“Kevin t ‘you.” he said, with his pulling his arm away and his ears backwards.

“All right, Kevin then.” said Katie, folding her arms, and reversing her ears as well. “Tell me something MR. Kevin Parer.  For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been giving me the short shrift.” She half closed her one, brown eye, regarding him solely out of her blue one, “What the yiff for, Kevin?  What the Goddam Hell did I ever do to you?”

It was good to throw in some profanity, she reasoned; it would put Kevin off his stride.  But the language made not a dent in the Battler’s brother.  He just regarded her for a cool second, then turned and spit on the ground.

“It’s coz me brother an’ I‘ve been close ever since we was weanlings, Your-yiffing-Grace.” he said, “An’ I don’t like to see ‘im get hurt.”  His lips compressed into thin, tight slit, and he looked around to make certain there was no one else was within earshot, “Ray’d probably kick me arse over the treetops for tellin’ you this, but I don’t care.  In case you don’t realize it, he’s head over hooves about you.  If I had ten pence for every time I’ve ‘ad to listen to ‘im cry in ‘is beer, wishing he could to ask yer to marry ‘im, I could chuck New Guinea an’ go back to Australia right now.” He let out a long breath, and an expression Katie had never seen before suffused Kevin’s face; he became half wistful, half melancholy.  “Only that ain’t ever gonna happen -- with me, or me brother.  For better ‘r worse, we’re tied to this place, especially Ray; he’s got New Guinea in his blood.”  He looked up again, his gaze directly level with hers. “Not like you, Y’Grace.  You an’ I both know you’re not gonna be staying on in Papua.  One of these days, you’re goin’ to look at yer ledger an’ decide you got enough gold to save that mining equipment company an’ those distilleries of yours.  Soon’s that happens you’ll be off out of New Guinea like a shot.  An’ when you leave, it’s goin’ to break Ray’s heart.”

Katie had stood silently through this tirade, and she said nothing for several seconds afterwards.  When she spoke, it was in voice that surprised even her for it’s firmness.

“Kevin....you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know – and in case YOU don’t know, Ray and I have already discussed this.  He already knows I’m not staying...”

That was as far as she got before the Brumby waved a hoof and cut her off.

“Cor!  Didn’t you hear anything what I said, Y Grace?  I said you was goin’ to break Ray’s HEART, not his yiffin’ head!”

He turned and walked away again.  This time, Katie let him go.

But his words were still with her as she climbed into the cockpit of the AVRO...and they stayed there for a long time afterwards. 

Had they not, Katie might have seen the other planes approaching before it was too late.

She had just made the turn up the Iso valley when she spotted them, a pair of biplanes closing fast from behind.  Without thinking, she put the throttle forward, before remembering she was in the autogyro, not the Fortuna. 

In seconds, they had caught up with her, forming up one on either side of the autogyro.

They were curious looking aircraft; a pair of water-planes with long, banana-shaped, central floats that appeared to have grown out of the fuselage, jutting out ahead of each plane like a lantern jaw, and barely clearing the propellor.

Katie recognized them at once; she had seen this aircraft several times at Lakehurst and the US Naval Airship Station in Manila.  They were Loening OL-8s -- ‘Shoehorns’ their pilots called them, used by the US Navy as a scout and observation aircraft.

Except these planes did not carry the insignia of the US Navy; in fact they had no markings at all, not even numbers -- and instead of the standard Navy gray, each plane was painted in a dull, charcoal black.

It was not this that caused Katie’s heart to leap into her throat, however.

It was the twin Lewis machine guns one of the observers was swinging around to bear directly on the autogyro.  At first, Katie couldn’t believe it.  No, this couldn’t be happening.  It was all a dream, or maybe a mistake.  She wasn’t even carrying any...

The gunner fired a short burst in the autogyro’s wake.

Katie screamed...and then her heart was pounding as she tried to think, tried to recall what she knew about the Loening OL-8.  Introduced in 1923 as the Loening OA-1.  Originally fitted with an inverted Liberty engine that leaked oil like a sieve.  Later models, such as these, were fitted with more reliable Pratt and Whitney radials.  An amphibious aircraft, the OL-8 had two landing gear tucked into the central float, which meant it could operate off land or water.  Normally, it carried no guns...which meant that this plane would have no forward firing weapons, at least not through the propellor, where they would have had to install a synchronizer.  If she could get ahead of them, they would not be able to hit her.

Only...could she?  Dammit, what was the top speed of a Loening Amphibian?  Think, damn you!  Thi...  Wait, wait... she knew.  122 mph, practically a flying turtle.

But that was still more than 25 mph faster than her AVRO could fly.

She was a sitting duck.

Now, she saw the pilot make a beckoning gesture with his paw, then sweep it forward, towards the front of his aircraft.  She understood at once; he was ordering her to follow him.

And just to make certain she understood, the gunner fired another short burst behind her.  Katie tried not to scream, but without success.  Then, with no choice but to obey, she nodded deeply, hoping they would see.  To only her partial relief, the pilot nodded back.

For the next half hour, they continued up the valley, the two Loenings flying abreast of the AVRO, with their guns trained directly on Katie.  She could hear her heart pounding even over the thrum of the rotor blades, and smell the bitter adrenalin.  Her mouth felt as dry as a wad of cottonwool.   Her head, meanwhile, was whirling like a runaway top; it seemed to be working on five different levels all at once. 

On the first level, Katie was all confusion.  Why were they doing this?  She had no gold...Christmas, she had NOTHING of value on board, the mail sacks had already been dropped in Lae. 

WHY?!

One the second tier was horror; it was Katie herself who had said it:  “As a rule, these guys never let anyone go.” 

When these air pirates got her on the ground, they would kill her as dispassionately as they had Gordie MacIntyre. 

No, not dispassionately, she realized with a start.  Gordie had been a male, she was a female.  And a very pretty one at that.  Before they murdered her, first they would...first they would take turns...

Without wanting to, she began to cry -- much to the amusement of one of the gunners, a huge bovine of some kind, who responded by blowing kissed at her.

Rage was the occupant of the third level...Rage not at Katie’s captors but at someone else.  From almost the instant the guns had turned on her, the pinto mare had realized something:  Were she at the controls of her Lockheed Air Express, she could easily have ditched the two biplanes now flying at her wingtips.

And she WOULD have been flying the Fortuna today, except the Lockheed had mysteriously refused to start on this of all mornings.  The pinto mare had no proof, she had no evidence...but she also had no doubts, none at all.  Somewhere, back at Iso, they had a traitor in their midst.

If she ever got out of this, Katie MacArran silently vowed....

The fourth level was filled with loathing, contempt for the ones who had done this to her.  Whoever these pirates were, they were none too bright with it.  The two pilots on either side of her were keeping their planes at almost exactly same level as the AVRO.

In plain English, this meant that if either gunner opened fire, he would probably hit his compatriot’s aircraft.  The pilots should be flying either slightly above or below the AVRO to avoid being caught by a stray bullet from the other side. 

And speaking of the gunners, the one on her right...the bull who seemed a size too large for his cockpit?  There was something unpleasantly familiar about him.

Finally, Katie came to the fifth level, the dispassionate one, the place where she could assess her situation.

She was going to have to do something.  Whether she cooperated with these pirates or not, she was probably going to die.  In fact, she realized, there was a much greater chance of that happening if she DIDN’T resist.  Just ask Gordie MacIntyre.

And if she didn’t resist, before they killed her they would each enjoy themselves heartily at her expense.

It was with this understanding that Katie felt her tears drying and a cool determination settling over her.  All right, she wasn’t going to go meekly to the breeding shed and then to the gallows.  That was it, end of story, period.

But what could she do?  They had the machine guns, and all she had was a shotgun and her shikomi-zue...and both of those were stored in the back seat, where she couldn’t get to them.

And so was the radio, she suddenly remembered.  Only what good would that do, even if she could reach it?

A staccato burst of gunfire pulled her from these thoughts.  She turned, and saw one of the pilots waving and gesturing towards a canyon on her left.

Katie swallowed hard.  The entrance was narrow, tighter than anything she had ever traversed in the AVRO before.  One unexpected air current was all it would take.  The rotors of the autogyro would shatter against the canyon walls and she would go tumbling into oblivion.  Then she saw the pilot making the thumbs up gesture, ordering her to a higher altitude where the canyon was wider.

This was one order she wasn’t afraid to follow.

Even so, the canyon was too narrow for the Loenings to fly on either side of her.  One had to take up a position in front of the autogyro, while the other pulled up behind her.

The course was relatively straight, but with several twists and turns, that Katie would have dearly loved to have taken more slowly...and would have had there not been a pair of Lewis machine guns trained on her.  Why the Hell were these idiots flying so fast?

And that was when she finally remembered; the Loening OL series Achilles’ heel.  She realized something else as well, the tail gunner in the aft plane could not bring his weapon to bear on her.
A plan began to formulate in her mind, one with scant chance of success, but a plan nonetheless.

“This is probably never gonna work.” she silently told the pilot ahead of her, fighting back the tears again, “But at least I’ll die with satisfaction of knowing that you bastards will have to go back to yiffing each other.”

Slowly, with delicate almost imperceptible movements, she began to ease back on the stick, and ease off on the throttle, gaining altitude and losing speed.  For the first time in many months, in more than a year, she thought of her sire.  Soon, she would be seeing him again.  What would he say to her?  Would he forgive her for what she had done in Darwin?

And what would become of the Duchy of Strathdern, of Combs Mining Machinery?  Of all of it?

If only her pathetic little plan might somehow work.  Ahead of her, the first Loening began to draw away, then fall back to keep pace with her.  Careful, careful...she had to keep reducing her speed VERY gradually, so the pilot would not realize what was happening until it was too late.

The aircraft were almost level with the top of the canyon, when she saw what she was looking for, the subtle yaw of wings and bobbing of the tail of the plane in front of her.  She braced herself and said a silent prayer.  This was it; now or never.

She grabbed the throttle...and pulled back hard.

Everything that happened next, happened all at once.  Instead of firing, the gunner of the first plane turned and rapped the pilot on the shoulder.   Perhaps the bull had been told to take her alive at all costs, maybe he was thinking that he more than enough time; she couldn’t get away no matter what she did, or perhaps he just WASN’T thinking.  Whatever his motives, he was doing exactly the wrong thing...or rather the pilot did the wrong thing when he saw what was happening; he pulled back on his own throttle, in order to keep pace with her.  

And in so doing, he forgot that thanks to it’s lone, ‘shoehorn’ float the Loening OL-8 had a much faster stall-speed than the AVRO.  All at once, the plane pitched forward and dropped like brick..

Katie didn’t see what happened to the plane behind her, but she would later guess that the second pilot had also chopped his throttle...but then, seeing the whirling rotor blades coming straight at him, he must have attempted to turn out of the way. 

It was the worst mistake he could have made; in so doing, he caused the airflow over the wings of his plane to become dangerously uneven; still faster than stall-speed on the right...but slower on the left.  So it was that instead of dropping straight downwards, like the lead aircraft, the Loening behind Katie corkscrewed into a spinning dive.   Had this occurred in the open sky, the pilot might have had a chance to recover, but here, boxed inside a narrow canyon, he never stood a chance.  Whirling like a runaway pinwheel the biplane slammed into one of the sheer, rock walls and disintegrated into a thousand fragments.

Katie MacArran had no time to absorb this.  She had to move...now!  She slapped the throttle forward again and pulled back on the stick, racing for the plateau at the top of the canyon.  Below, she could see the first pilot had recovered from his stall, and coming fast in her direction. 

This time, she knew, there would be no such thing as taking her prisoner.  Even if that had been the air pirates’ original plan, now they would take her down the hard way.  She pulled back even harder on the stick, the AVRO rising almost vertically, the Loening right behind her.  If she could just beat him to the top of the canyon.  A burst of gunfire sounded in her lee.  She ignored the gesture; it was only meant to unnerve her.  The gunner could not hit her until his plane overtook the AVRO.  She heard her engine begin to cough and sputter in the rapidly thinning air.  Daaaaaaaamnit, not NOW!   She could only hope that the same thing was happening to her pursuer’s plane and hazarded a glance backwards.  Yes, it was, but Loening was still coming on strong.  If she could just make the top of the canyon before it was ahead of her.

“Come on!  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can....Come onnnnnnn!”

She was close...almost to the rim of the canyon when the Loening came level with her.   She saw it swinging past her.

“Almost there.”

...and pulling up on her left side.

“Please...just a TINY bit more.”

Then she saw the gunner bringing his weapon to bear on her.

She was still a few feet short of the plateau.  They had her...her plan had failed.

But then, incredibly, the bull repeated his earlier mistake.  Instead of firing, he stood up slightly and curled his upper lip into his muzzle, making the flehmen gesture. 

And that was when Katie finally realized where she’d seen him before.

She also realized that she was level with the canyon top.  The carabao’s gesture of contempt had bought her barely enough time to make her move...maybe.

Crossing her fingers, she pulled back on the throttle, and a hard right on the stick.  She saw the Loening jump ahead of her, flashes of fire from the Lewis guns...and this time the carabao wasn’t firing warning shots. She felt the AVRO shudder as it was hit twice in the tail.  She rammed the engine, aiming for the tree-line at the top of the ridge.  The carabao kept firing, but this time his shots went wide; the Loening could not turn in nearly as tight a circle as the autogyro.  But once the pilot managed to wheel back around again, the advantage would be his.  With it’s rotary wings, Katie’s aircraft could not jink and weave to dodge him.

She poured it on, heading for the trees, remembering what The Battler had taught her:

“If ever you find y’self going for a prang, and there’s no open spot to set yer plane down, try to aim between a pair o’the trees.  You’ll lose your wings, but keep yer life.  When they shear off, it’ll act like a brake.”

That would work with a fixed-wing aircraft, she knew...but with an autogyro?  No time to find out...the treeline was rushing towards her.  She heard the carabao still firing.  Thank God he wasn’t an experienced shot.  A seasoned gunner would have been firing short, repetitive bursts instead of one, long...

Something punched Katie hard in the side, just below her left armpit.  There was a high metallic ‘thwang!’ from somewhere up in front of her, and dark oil began to stream from the engine.  She felt the AVRO beginning to lose power...and stability.   It began to yaw from side to side.  She was going to make the tree line, but could she make it between any of them?  And the carabao was still firing, she felt the impact of the bullets against the autogyro’s fuselage, heard a rending of metal, and felt something tear away from beneath her, one of the landing struts.  She saw a tree rushing towards her, a monstrous thing with a trunk the size of a battlement.  She couldn’t move around it, the AVRO had no lateral control.  She saw it fill her vision...and thought of The Battler, of Darwin, of what she’d had done there. 

“I’m sorry, Ray!” she cried, her voice carried away by the howling slipstream.

Then the tree seemed to yank sideways, like a piece of rolling scenery...and then there was a space in front of her.  If only it would stay there for just a few seconds longer.   A line of bullets stitched across the trunk, moving towards her, splinters flying in her face, she was never going to make it.

The firing stopped abruptly; the carabao’s guns had either jammed or emptied.

At more than 70 mph, the AVRO shot between the trees, the rotor disintegrating like matchwood against the trunks.  There was no braking effect whatsoever; the autogyro went flying into the woods as though shot from a catapult, a missile ready to destroy itself against the next solid object.  Two more trees appeared in front of Katie, spaced much more closely than the first ones.  There was no way to avoid them, she could only hold on, and pray the gap was not too narrow for what was left of the aircraft.

It turned out to be wide enough for the fuselage, but too cramped to accommodate the stumpy stabilizer wings...and as the aircraft hurtled between the trunks, they sheared off with a sound like a clock being dropped.  Katie’s head snapped back against her seat, her vision filling with starlight.  She could dimly make out AVRO’s propellor smashing to pieces against something she could not see.  A fragment went screaming past her, missing her head by less than an inch.

And then the aircraft jerked to an abrupt halt, tilting forward and rolling to the side; a dying beast, pierced by arrows.

Then, finally, mercifully, it was no longer moving.

Katie was down...and she was still alive.  She shook her head, trying to clear it.  She could hear the machine guns cutting loose again from somewhere up above her, but no sound of impact anywhere close...or that was what she thought.  Her head seemed to be filled with helium and there was a ringing in her ears that wouldn’t quit.  And the pants of her slight suit were soaking wet.

Wet?

All at once, Katie was fully alert.  Was it...?  There wasn’t any pain, but had she been...?  

Grimacing through a fresh trickle of tears, she thrust a hoof into the space under the cockpit, feeling for the wetness, finding it, praying her hoof would not come back bright red.

It didn’t...but it did come back suffused with the overpowering, pungent smell of Av-gas.  The main fuel line had ruptured in the crash.  Katie didn’t care, at least she wasn’t bleed...

A sudden, burning pain under her arm chose that moment to beg to differ.  She looked, saw the hole in her jacket where the bullet had gone through.  It didn’t look deep, but could she be sure?  She shook her head again...had to clear it, had to make herself think.  What was the next thing she had to do?  Think Katie, think.

Wait, wait...the radio.  If it was only still working...but first she had to get out of this cockpit.  She reached for the buckle of her safety harness.  Her fingers were trembling badly; it seemed to take forever to get it undone.  She wondered if this was a permanent condition.  If she ever got out of this, would they send her to the nursing home with Grandpa Joe? 

“Stop that!” she cried...only afterwards realizing she had cried it aloud.

She pulled herself out of the cockpit, and had to crawl into the after compartment.  No, the radio wasn’t smashed...but that didn’t mean anything.  Was it working?  She reached for switch...and froze.  Something had changed, something had happened in the last few seconds.  What was it?  What was different all of a sudden? 

Then the answer hit her and she burst into tears.  There was no longer the sound of an airplane overhead; the Loening was finally gone. 

For now, she was safe.

Katie was still crying as she thumbed the power switch.  The dial light flickered on for a second...then quickly stuttered out. 

Then it came on again and stayed that way.  Katie coughed and snorted as she fiddled through the bandwidth, trying to get her voice back as she searched for Guinea Airways’ frequency. (She would have preferred Ray Parer, obviously, but Guinea had a much better radio receiver.) When she found it, she crossed her fingers, said a silent, “Please God.” and keyed the microphone.

“SOS...SOS.  Iso Mining autogyro calling Guinea airways HQ...calling Guinea airways HQ.  I say again, emergency.  Do you copy?  Over.”

The answer was a rush of static, suffused with electrical whines and whoops....and then a fragmentary voice, like that from a deep well.

“Guin...ways...Iso...yro....arely...you.   Wha...ture..mergen...ver?”

Katie turned to volume up all the way...hoping she was being heard, better than she was hearing.

“I’ve been attacked by air pirates...repeat, attacked by air pirates.  Forced down atop a canyon, somewhere, south-southwest of Iso river valley...I say again, forced down atop a canyon south-southwest of Iso valley...perhaps twenty miles short of.

There was a soft ‘Whoopf!’from the forward cockpit, and the radio went instantly dead.  “NO!  Katie shrieked, and began to frantically toggle the switch. “No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!” she whinnied...and that was when she smelled the smoke and felt the heat. 

She looked up...just in time to see the engine compartment burst into flame.  She screamed again, this time in terror, and tried to leap from the aircraft.   Instead, her left boot went through the floor of the AVRO and into a mess of severed control wires.  She tried to pull free, but her foot was hopelessly enmeshed in the tangle.  As if sensing her dilemma, the fire began to creep towards her, hissing like a merry snake. 

She could feel the heat rising, parching her nostrils, scorching her face. 

And she could smell the gasoline soaking her flight suit. 

When the fire touched it...

Frantically desperately, she reached for something...anything to brace against to pull herself free.  Her hoof closed around something solid.  She pushed down on it while pulling with her trapped leg.  The object came away in her hoof.   Screaming in outrage, she raised the traitorous item, preparing to hurl it away.

It was her shikomi zue.

Drawing the sword, she thrust it into the hole where her foot was trapped, sawing frantically.  She felt a wire part, then another.  Then she felt the blade cut into her flesh...but it also cut a third wire.  In front of her the pilot’s compartment was filled with flame.  Any second, it would pass through into the cockpit where she was trapped...trapped helplessly and drenched with gasoline.

Another wire came free...and with it, Katie’s foot.  She yanked her leg from the hole, threw the cane sword out onto the ground, and prepared to leap after it.  She saw the shotgun parked in it’s holster, grabbed it, threw it out, and jumped...just as the engine exploded.

The blast caught her in mid-air, hefting her up and slamming her into the ground like a giant, invisible flyswatter.  She felt something wet and coppery filling her mouth, and saw bits of flaming debris landing all around her.  One of them hit within centimeters of her face, and she was certain the next one was going to set her flight suit on fire.

That was when the darkness finally took her.


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Aircraft Reference:

Loening OL-8
http://aeroweb.brooklyn.cuny.edu/specs/loening/ol-8.htm