“Into your copter,” Blade directed. “You’re taking us for a ride.”
The man in blue turned and walked to the sliding door on the cargo section of the craft. “You must be insane.”
“My missus would agree with you,” Hickok mentioned.
“Move it!” Blade barked.
The pilot stepped onto the cargo section. Blade shadowing him. The cargo section consisted of a square area behind the only seats in the craft, one for the pilot and one for a copilot, both of which were positioned at the front, facing the instrument panel and other controls. Half of the cargo section contained stacked boxes.
Hickok was the last to board. He casually inspected the interior of the helicopter. “I’ve seen copters before,” he commented. “Soviet copters. This one is kind of dinky compared to theirs.”
The lean man in blue slid into the pilot’s seat, watching Blade as the huge Warrior took the other one. “I told you this is a small carrier,” the pilot said. “It’s a Michael Model 611121. It’s not designed to transport a lot of weight. It’s built for speed.”
“You carry mail and cargo?” Blade questioned.
The pilot nodded. “Androxia Air Express is a courier service, mainly. A lot of mail and small boxes need to be delivered from one building to another on a rush basis, and using a copter is the quickest way of getting from one skyscraper to another.”
Blade digested the news, contemplating. “Does every skyscraper have a landing pad like the one we’re on?”
“Most do,” the pilot replied. “Usually there are two landing pads. There’s a helipad at ground level, and there’s a heliport on each roof for deliveries to the upper floors.”
Blade smiled and winked at Hickok.
The gun fighter closed the door to the cargo section. “Ready when you are, pard,” he declared.
“Take off,” Blade commanded.
The pilot hesitated. “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve up to, but you’ll never get away with it.”
“What’s your name?” Blade inquired.
“Roger 196726,” the pilot responded.
“Well, Roger,” Blade said sternly, “I won’t warn you again. When I give an order, you comply. Don’t give me any back talk.”
Roger applied himself to adjusting the copter’s controls preparing to taking off. “Listen, mister,” he said as he worked, “I don’t want to die. I’ll do whatever you say. I promise. But I’m advising you, for your own good, to give this up.”
“Get us airborne,” Blade directed.
Roger flicked several switches, his practiced fingers expertly ranging over the instrument panel.
Blade heard a loud whine. He looked out the tinted canopy and saw the main rotor beginning to rotate.
“As soon as we’re off the ground,” Roger remarked, “we’re in trouble.”
“Why?” Blade asked.
“Every Express copter must adhere to a fixed route, to a set flight path,” Roger revealed. “If we deviate from the schedule, the Superiors will come after us.”
“Do the Superiors fly copters like this one?”
Roger shook his head. “The copters the Superiors fly, the police choppers anyway, are armed. They’ll blow us out of the sky.”
“I’m surprised the Superiors even allow lowly humans to fly any helicopters at all,” Blade mentioned.
“Courier copters are the only ones we can operate,” Roger said. “I love flying, and this is the only kind they let humans do. All of the police and military craft are operated by Superiors.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it, bucko,” Hickok interjected.
“The Superiors only do what is best for Androxia,” Roger said, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Are you hitched, Rog?” Hickok queried.
“Do you mean married?” Roger responded.
“One and the same,” Hickok stated.
“No, I’m not married,” Roger disclosed. “The Superiors would not approve my marriage application.” He barely suppressed a frown.
Hickok, standing in the center of the cargo section, glanced at Blade, “Sounds to me like Roger could use a change in scenery.”
Blade studied the pilot. Roger was not more than twenty-five, with angular features and curly brown hair. At such an age, enforced loneliness would be a bitter situation to tolerate. Perhaps the Superiors had evaluated Roger as a borderline Malcontent, and that was the reason his marriage petition had been denied. Blade looked up at the rotor, noting it had attained a terrific speed. “Let’s go.”
Roger took hold of the stick, and the next moment the helicopter rose from the helipad, rapidly ascending. He leveled the craft off at a thousand feet. “Okay. Where am I taking you?”
“The Prime Complex,” Blade stated.
Roger did a double take. “The Prime Complex? Now I know you’re insane!”
Blade hefted the Gaskell in his right hand. “Move it.”
Roger eased the stick to the right, and the copter responded smoothly.
Hickok, leaning on a stack of boxes for support, gazed out the canopy at the sprawling metropolis, fascinated. He could see dozens of other aircraft flying over Androxia. “We should get us one of these,” he said to Blade. “I’d love to take one for a spin now and then.”
“I don’t know if that’s a wise idea,” Blade commented.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Your driving is bad enough,” Blade said. “I don’t know if I’d want to go flying with you at the controls.”
“May I ask a question?” Roger interrupted.
“What?” Blade said.
“Why are we going to the Prime Complex?”
“To destroy Primator,” Blade divulged.
Roger gaped at the giant in stark astonishment. “Destroy Primator?” he exclaimed. “That’s impossible!”
“Why? Doesn’t the Prime Complex have a heliport?” Blade inquired.
“Of course it does,” Roger responded. “But you must have a special security clearance to land there. Otherwise, you’ll be shot down.”
“Have you ever landed there?” Blade asked.
“Dozens of times,” Roger admitted. “But I always had a clearance.”
“So just pretend you have one this time,” Blade advised.
Roger shook his head. “It will never work.”
“Give me the layout of the roof,” Blade ordered. “I know Primator is on the Sturgeon Level, the top floor. How does one get from the roof to Primator’s floor?”
“The heliport is in the middle of the roof,” Roger said. “It’s a bear to land on sometimes because of the winds. The Complex is two hundred ninety-nine stories high.”
“I know,” Blade said.
“At that height, you have updrafts and crosscurrents and wind sheer to contend with. I hate landing there,” Roger mentioned.
“You don’t have any choice,” Blade noted.
“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Roger queried. “Shoot me?
The copter would crash, and you’d die too.”
“I wouldn’t shoot you while we’re in the air,” Blade stated. “I’d wait until you landed, and then I’d add that extra nostril.”
Roger frowned. “There’s no way I can get out of this, is there?”
“No,” Blade averred. “Your best chance to survive this alive is to cooperate with us fully. Now tell me more about the roof on the Prime Complex. You said the heliport is in the middle. How do you reach the Sturgeon Level from the roof?”
“By going down,” Roger revealed. “There’s a flight of stairs on the east side of the roof, and you have to go through a door to reach the stairs.
That door is always locked. It has to be opened from the inside.”
“How many guards?” Blade asked.
“None.”
“None?” Blade repeated skeptically.