"What a load of crap," said Mack. He looked up at the communications desk. "Get me Samson — no wait. Let me talk to Dog."
Mack Smith's face snapped into Dog'svideo screen.
"Did you receive that Romanian air defense broadcast?" Mack asked.
The sound of the wind in the depressurized cabin was so loud, Dog had to crank the volume to hear.
"We're listening to it now," he said.
"What are you going to do, Colonel? Tell them to shove it, right?"
"I'm not going to tell them that," said Dog. "That's General Samson's job."
Mack frowned.
"He's the reason you have your job as chief of staff, Mack. You got what you wanted." "Wasn't that a mistake."
"I'll talk to him," said Dog. "I'm sure he's heard it by now anyway."
Dog tapped his screen. His daughter Breanna's helmeted face appeared.
"Bree, I have to talk to the general." "The no-fly order, right?"
"Yeah."
"He's talking to one of the Romanian air force generals right now. Not that it seems to be doing any good." "I can wait."
Dog checked his position on the sitrep. They were flying an oval-shaped orbit at 8,000 feet east of the president's vacation house, roughly between it and the border. Hawk One and Two were in a standard patrol position fore and aft of the Bennett, flown entirely by the computer.
Despite the blown hatch, the Megafortress flew a level course, responding to the control inputs flawlessly. As long as they made easy maneuvers and stayed in their pressurized suits, the crew shouldn't have any problems.
"What a bunch of blockheads," said Samson, coming on the line as blustery as always. "Locusta must be behind this."
"Absolutely," said Dog.
"I'll be damned if I'm going to comply."
"Agreed. We only need a few more minutes," said Dog. "Zen is almost at the Osprey rendezvous."
"I better tell Washington what's going on. Someone may get their nose out of joint."
Dog was about to suggest that Samson might not bother to pass the information along for a few minutes, just in case someone at the White House decided they should comply immediately. But he was interrupted by his airborne radar op erator, who shouted so loud he would have easily been heard even if Dog didn't have his headset on.
"Colonel! We have more MiGs! A lot of them this time… sixteen! And they are coming at us like wolves at a pig roast!"
Zen felt a bit of strain in his shoulder as he rose over the second hill and started downward. The exoskeleton handled the enormous strains imposed by flying, but the weight of Mrs. Voda and her son was mostly borne by his body. They tugged him away from the wing unit; like an ancient Roman enemy of the state, hitched to a pair of chariots and about to be pulled asunder.
The Osprey sat like a vulture ahead to his right, opposite a small barn. Zen leaned slightly in that direction, adjusting his movements to the extra weight he was carrying.
"Almost there," he yelled. "You'll be on the ground in just a second."
Voda sat staring at the sky, listening to the music in his head. He was lost, done. But at least he had saved his wife and son. That was a man's duty.
But was it a president's? Should he have put them ahead of his country? Should he have gone and left them to die?
History would have to judge.
His body began to buzz. His leg was on fire.
No, it was the cell phone, vibrating.
He reached for it, took it out.
"Yes?"
"Yo, Mr. President, I was afraid I'd lost the connection for good," said the American, Mack Smith. "You need to keep the phone on."
"I had it on. It must have turned off when I fell."
"Well don't fall anymore, all right? What's going on?"
"They're coming for me. I can hear them nearby. Above me."
"Well hide. Go. Go!"
Yes, thought Voda. There were some fallen trees not too far away. He pulled himself up, then started for them, dragging his aching leg.
As he reached them, Voda realized they wouldn't provide much cover. But they did give him an idea. He stripped off his shirt and tucked it between the tree branches, making it just visible. Then he began moving in the other direction.
The dogs barked nearby.
"They think they hear him," Major Ozera told Lo-custa. "It won't be long now."
"I want no more reports until he is dead," Locusta said.
His satellite phone rang. Locusta answered it. It was his aide, back at headquarters.
"General Karis of the Third Division has ordered his troops back to their barracks."
"What?" demanded Locusta.
"That's the only report I have."
Karis was a key ally. Locusta didn't understand what he was doing, except that it was not what they had agreed. The troops would be needed to keep order.
He would have to talk to Karis personally.
"The Dreamland people want to talk to you as well. General Samson—"
"I don't have time for them. Tell them they are to return to Iasi. Things are critical."
Danny Freah watched Zen descend.The landing wasn't the most elegant he'd ever seen — Zen came down too fast before cutting his power, and the trio collapsed forward like mail sacks thrown from the back of a truck — but it did the trick.
Boston reached them first, pulling Zen upright. "Man, how'd you tie this?" he asked. He yelled to Sergeant Liu, who was running up with the med kit. "Nurse, where's the knife?"
"Don't cut it," said Zen. "I got one more to go."
Danny knelt down and unhooked Mrs. Voda, then handed her off to Liu. Julian, the president's son, looked at him as if looking at a ghost.
"She's in shock," said Liu. "But OK."
"Get them into the Osprey," said Danny as Boston finally undid the knot. He picked up the boy and gave him to Boston, who cradled him in his arms and began double-timing toward the rotor plane.
"I'll be back in about twenty minutes," said Zen. "Maybe less."
"Wait." Danny grabbed his shoulders. "Give me the MESSKIT. I'll go." "I got it."
"Zen, they're closing in on him. Voda's going to be hiding. You won't be able to find him."
"We'll just tell him to run to the clearing." "They're all around him."
Zen lifted his arms to fly. Danny tried to push them down. Zen was too strong and shrugged him away.
"Let's not screw around," said the pilot angrily.
"If you get killed, the Flighthawk program stops," Danny told him. "If I'm lost, it's no big deal."
"It is a big deal."
"Listen, we've been through a lot together. I'm the best person for this job. You know it. Don't let your pride get in the way."
A long moment passed. Then, finally, Zen reached down and began undoing his straps.
Even for a pair of Megafortresses and two B-1B/Ls, sixteen MiGs was a lot to take on. And General Samson's force wasn't in the best position to do so either. The Johnson was out of long-range missiles, and had to stay near the hill to help pinpoint President Voda. The Bennett had a depressurized cabin and no one to fly its Flighthawks.
But Samson liked challenges. And he had one of the best combat air tacticians alive to help him meet this one.