Sure as hell he's going to call for help, we won't have much time.
It took a few moments for McLanahan to figure out how to get the fuel truck moving, but soon the two trucks pulled up to where they had half-hidden the Old Dog in a wide parking area between two hangars.
Ormack came running out, the second survival revolver in hand. He saw the smashed windshield, looked to Elliott. "What… T' "We had a comrade but he bugged out on us. We've got to work fast before he calls in the Marines. John, you'll be u the cockpit on the fuel panel.
I think I can figure out how to work the pump on the tank truck so I'll be outside. "He went over to Angelina in the panel truck. "Pull the truck over to the right wingtip. Patrick, climb up on the right wing, open one of the fuel filler ports and we'll fill it from there.
Angelina help with the hose. Where's Wendy and Dave?"
"I've got Dave in the cockpit monitoring the engine Ormack said.
"Wendy is on the radios calling for help.
"Any luck?"
"Not yet. I'm not sure what anyone can do for us anyway unless we lift off out of here."
Ormack then began unreeling the refueling hose from the truck while McLanahan climbed on the Old Dog's right win screwdriver in his teeth.
"The main-wing tanks have dozens of holes in them," Ormack told Elliott as the general began to decipher and operate the truck's pump controls.
"The forward body tank had a few leaks too. McLanahan will pump fuel into the center tank. I'll plan on keeping the fuel in the center, aft and body tanks, but once we get up to engine start and takeoff v have to put fuel in the mains. We'll be losing fuel like crazy after that-" "Nothing we can do about it," Elliott said, "unless you got enough chewing gum to plug the holes. "Elliott started the truck's fuel pumps and waved to McLanahan, who had the cap off the center-wing fuel tank and was dragging the hose across the wing and over to the fuselage.
"Ready anytime you are, Patrick. "Huddled against the biting wind, McLanahan inserted the fuel nozzle into the open fuel port on the fuselage between the two huge wings and began pumping fuel. Below him, Orrr ran inside the Old Dog and took Luger's place at the controls.
Luger, right leg heavily taped and bandaged, limped downstairs and out to the fuel truck, carrying several quart cans taped together. "I found the spare oil downstairs near survival rations. I'll fill up the number two engine with oil-at least we should be able to use it for takeoff before it disintegrates."
"Good, Dave… how you doing?"
"Great," Luger said, dropping the case of oil on the fender to spell himself. "I have a blinding headache, freezing cold and my right leg looks like Swiss cheese. How are you, sir?"
"Got you beat, Dave, but if I talk too much I'm afraid I'll pass out."
"Let me handle the pump, General. You get inside."
"No, put the oil in, then see what you can do about ripping loose some of the metal and that broken tip gear off the wings It's all drag-we can do without it. Especially for a sevenengine takeoff.
"You got it, sir… you know, I still don't believe we're doing this. I mean, actually stealing gas from a Russian fighter base "We may be pumping water into our tanks, for all we know.
There just wasn't time to keep on looking And so saying, Elliott seemed to be drifting off, falling asleep, the rush of adrenaline wearing off…
j Chief Constable Vjarelskiv, the regional militia commander grimaced as he took a sip of what he was told was koffee, a thick liquid of grain and coffee. He took a bite of khl,lep to take the dusty taste away, glaring all the time at Serbientlov, who was standing wringing his hat in his hands in front of Vjarelskiv's desk.
"This is nonsense, Serbientlov," the constable asked. "You bring me tales of armed attackers at the base-two men and a woman… What did they steal?Your precious Chinese chopsticks?Are you sure you didn't dream up the whole story?
"This is no joke, tovarisch, " Sergei asked. "If we don't hurry they'll get away."
"With what?A snow plow?Your noodles?"
"They commandeered a fuel truck, and… and they had explosives.
They threatened to blow up everything. The whole base. You have to do something-" "Your story gets taller every moment, Serbientlov," the constable said. He leaned back into his chair, fixing Sergei with an icy stare. "Are you sure this is not a… shall we say, a falling-out of thieves?"
Sergei fidgeted uncomfortably but managed to sound indignant.
"Thieves?You are not accusing me, tovarisch?The only thieves here are the ones out-" "Stop it, Serbientlov. The little empire you've built at the base is well-known, at least to the citizens in the area.
You use more diesel in four months than the whole Soviet navy uses in a year, supposedly for your fleet of plows but the streets and runways are always clogged with snow and you feed your gut with Chinese noodles and real coffee. "Vjarelskiv threw his grain beverage into a garbage can.
"Now I'm busy, so you'll-" "Chief Constable, I demand that you send a unit out to investigate. That's your job. You convinced the Far East Defense Force that for a price you could handle any security vroblems at the base during the winter. They wouldn't be to happy to learn that fifty thousand liters of fuel that you supposed to be protecting have vanished- The constable stood and grabbed Serbientlov by the colllar.
"You maggot. You dare to threaten me?I'll throw your body into one of your snowdrifts where they won't find it till summer But as e watched the caretaker wilt under his tirade the chief constable also knew that the old man had already destroyed his own career and could take his along with him. "All right, I'll send a patrol out-" "An armed unit," Serbientlov asked. "I want-" "What you want is irrelevant.
I won't have my men wind up in a fight with your pirates. Now get out of my sight. "He pushed Serbientlov toward the door, watched him scramble away, then turned to his intercom. "Sergeant, take a Patrol-wait, take a squad with the halftrack out with Serbientlov to the base. Have him show you where he saw his so-called robbers. If you find anyone, bring him back to me. If you don't find evidence of robbery, bring Serbientlov back to me-in a set of CUffs.
"God, it's freezing up there," McLanahan said as he ran into Elliott near the cab of the tanker truck, trying to warm his hands. He'd been obliged to switch places with Angelina on top of the Old Dog…
after almost an hour of pumping kerosene in the bitter Siberian cold he had lost feeling in hands and feet. "Fifty thousand liters of fuel-kerosene should be enough to make it.
I'll feel better when we're out of here. "Elliott's voice came in weak, barely audible grunts. Instantly McLanahan forgot his own cold, reached into Elliott's pockets and extracted the survival radio.
"Ormack, this is McLanahan.
General Elliott is almost unconscious out here."
"Copy," Ormack asked. "We got enough-all body tanks are full. I've started putting fuel into the leaking mains. Get the general inside, then start wrapping things up down there."
"Roger. "McLanahan shoved the radio into his own pocket, then took hold of Elliott's jacket and started to pull him out of the tanker.
"Let's go, General. "McLanahan half-walked, half-carried him to the belly hatch, then called up to Wendy, who ran down and helped Elliott up the ladder to the upper deck, then over to his seat in the cockpit.
"Wendy, push in all the vent-control knobs at the left side station downstairs," McLanahan asked. "It'll pump all the heat to the upper deck. I'll get Angelina and Dave."
McLanahan ran back outside. Angelina called to him, "I'
In not getting any more."
"We're packing up," he said over the whine of the idling number — four engine. "I'll help you button up in a minute. "He 4 searched and found Luger near the left wingtip. He had just wrestled a big piece of hanging fibersteel skin off what remained of the left wingtip.