The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 64

Behind them, Jodi and Kelso did the same.

'Okay, let's go for it,' said Steve. He checked the movement of the five hammers that would fire the rockets, then settled into the c.o.c.kpit. After satisfying himself that the control surfaces responded to movements of the stick and rudder bar, he pulled the row of triggers that had been fitted to a rudimentary dashboard.

Cadillac confirmed that all five firing-pins had slammed home.

'Okay. Prime the chambers!'

Jodi and Kelso pushed the wads of percussion caps into the firing chambers fixed to the rear of the rocket tubes.

'Chambers primed, hammers c.o.c.ked,' cried Cadillac.

Steve closed his right hand firmly round the stick and looped his left forefinger through the ring-pull that would fire the first rocket.

'Light the boosters!" Cadillac applied the taper. 'Lit and burning!'

Steve settled back firmly in his seat and began the countdown through clenched teeth. Ten-nine-eight...

Jodi and Kelso put their shoulders to the push-bars on each side of the trolley and heaved. It started to move forward. The black powder safety fuse sputtered and sparked; the flame divided and burnt its way towards the crimped nozzles of the two boosters.

Five-four-three .:.. Steve checked the front-wheel steering by moving the rudder bar. two-one-zero-SHHHhooowwaAHHH! The boosters ignited with a swis.h.i.+ng roar. Jodi and Kelso leaped clear and watched anxiously as the trolley bolted across the field, its rear end wreathed in fire and smoke.

'Go! Go! Go! GO!" they chanted, double-punching the air on each exclamation mark.

Once again Steve felt himself pressed back into his seat as the trolley continued to accelerate. From the rough measurements they had made during the ground tests with the aid of marker poles, he knew that the trolley reached its maximum speed in eight seconds. * . .

five-fourthreetwooneIGNITlON!

Steve triggered the centre rocket and, as he heard it ignite, he reached outside the c.o.c.kpit, yanked the toggle that released the aircraft from the trolley, pulled back on the stick and aimed for the clouds.

Whooossshhh! It was a fantastic feeling. He had never climbed so steeply or so fast before. Glancing down, he saw the ground drop rapidly away. The upturned faces of the spectators became featureless pale dots - like tiny flowers scattered across a meadow* In less than fifteen seconds he was nearly 2,000 feet up. The hissing sound ceased abruptly as the rocket reached the end of its burn and the drumming vibration that had threatened to shake his teeth loose was replaced by an eerie silence. Steve rolled out of the climb, going over and down in a descending right-hand turn.

Straightening out his line of descent, he fired the second rocket.

Shuwahh-pa-powwW! Another giant kick in the pants.

Steve kept the nose down. With no instruments, he could only gauge his speed by the keening noise of the air as it rushed over the silken wings and the sickening judder generated by the stresses on the airframe. Now!

He pulled up into a loop, rolled off the top and went sti'aight into another loop - an aerobatic manoeuvre known as an upwardS.

The rocket cut out as he came off the top of the second loop, but he had enough speed to go into a barrel roll.

Steve was forced to admit Cadillac had done a good job with a little help from his friends. As a glider, its performance had been no more than average, but under power, the aircraft handled well.

Yep, she was a sweet bird...

The upward-S had added another thousand feet of alt.i.tude, enabling Steve to see Ba-satana, perched on the edge of the Eastern Sea. That was one big stretch of water. Was that the edge of the world - or did something lie beyond? He used up the next two rockets in a variety of aerobatic manoeuvres, working his way closer to the ground as he gave serious thought to buzzing the display stand from behind to give the d.i.n.ks the fright of their lives. He came to the conclusion that it might not appeal to their warped sense of humour, and settled for a low-level, high-speed pa.s.s across the field, scattering the watching Trackers and clearing the stone wall by inches.

Up again he went, during the final seconds of the fifth and last burn, finis.h.i.+ng off with three victory rolls before turning back towards the field for an immaculate landing.

The total burn time had been seventy-five seconds, but by gliding in between firings he had been able to stay aloft for about twenty minutes. He had deliberately kept it short to sustain the Iron Masters' interest, but could have remained airborne for much longer and flown further. A westward climb using four rockets would have taken him close to 8,000 feet, leaving one in reserve.

From that height he would have been able to glide all the way to the Hudson - with a pa.s.senger. Yeah. Things were coming together just fine . . .

His spectacular handling of the flying-horse and its faultless performance put the Iron Masters in a convivial mood. Anxious to demonstrate that his flying skills were the equal of Steve's, Cadillac made the next two flights with Jodi, then Kelso, riding in the front pa.s.senger seat.

To the casual observer his performance was every bit as good as Steve's. Jodi and Kelso, who knew the difference, were impressed but not bowled over.

Cadillac's flying lacked that indefinable something that separates the gritted-teeth routine of a competent pilot trying to do his best from the easy brilliance of the born-to-fly aces who simply can't do it any other way.

After an alfresco lunch, the Iron Masters sent a samurai from Min-Orota's party up with Cadillac. He burned off two rockets in a steep eastward climb, circled silently over the port of Ba-satana, then made a swooping dive over Lord Min-Orota's palace. The samurai had maintained a white-knuckled grip on the rim of the c.o.c.kpit during the climb-out, but as the minutes pa.s.sed his initial terror eased. And when he saw the field-workers pause in their labours, and the soldiers and servants stream out of the palace to catch a glimpse of them as they flew overhead, he chortled happily and waved with both hands.

Cadillac fired the third rocket to regain alt.i.tude and expended the remaining pair doing gentle aerobatics in sight of the field.

When Cadillac landed, s.h.i.+gamitsu, the samurai in command of the Heron Pool, announced that the Shogun's Herald had expressed the wish to be taken into the air by the pilot who had made the first flight of the morning. After a new set of rockets had been fitted to the glider and trolley, Tos.h.i.+ro Hase-Gawa was ushered forward with the usual elaborate courtesies. Once he was settled comfortably in the front seat, Steve was allowed back on the scene. s.h.i.+gamitsu had overcome the ticklish problem of protocol by ordering up a pair of gloves and a straw mask for Steve to wear. In this way, the Herald would not come face to face with a Mute slave.

Since sheet gla.s.s was in short supply and Perspex was unheard of, the windscreens on the glider were pretty basic. Cadillac had managed to get a couple of pairs of goggles made up, and a cotton scarf tied across the nose and chin completed the flying kit. Steve, who could only see the back of his pa.s.senger's head, had no inkling of his ident.i.ty until he heard a m.u.f.fled voice say: 'Okay, take it away, sport."

In response to Tos.h.i.+ro's request for a brief scenic tour, Steve followed Cadillac's flight pattern, taking in Ba-satana and the Min-Orota's family estates. On the way back he circled above the Consul-General's residence and Two Island Lake. Clearwater was down there. Was she in the garden, looking up at the white stiff-winged bird floating lazily overhead? With the power off, the only sounds were a gentle swish of air over the glider's silken skin and the flip-flapping tail-ends of their headscarves.

Tos.h.i.+ro edged round in his seat as far as his safety harness would allow and pulled the scarf clear of his mouth. 'Have you thought about where you're going to make the drop?"

Steve jabbed a finger over the side and shouted into the slipstream.

'I thought the lake would be a good place.

Give him something to think about on the way down."

Tos.h.i.+ro nodded. 'Nice touch! How are you going to do it?"

'By rigging the safety harness! The lap straps are anch.o.r.ed to the floor by pins and the shoulder straps are fixed here - on the bulkhead behind your seat!'

'Got it..."

'I'll fix the pins so they'll come loose when I pull a wire, and before he knows what's happening, I turn her oven' Steve rammed the stick against his right thigh, ' - like this!" Tos.h.i.+ro's mouth flew open in alarm as the plane rolled onto its back. Up to now, the flight had been fairly sedate, and here he was, suddenly hanging upside down 3,000 feet above the ground, supported by four two-inch-wide straps.

'And away he goes!" Steve kept the glider inverted for a couple of minutes, and watched Tos.h.i.+ro's head bob from side to side as he scrabbled around inside the c.o.c.kpit for something to hold on to. It wouldn't do him any harm to know how the Consul-General would feel in that gut-wrenching moment before he started treading air.

Steve pulled the nose down in a half-loop, then levelled out the right way up. His pa.s.senger sank down gratefully into his seat. 'You see?

Couldn't be simpler!" No response.

'Are you okay?"

Tos.h.i.+ro nodded but didn't look round. He had made the flight in order to pave the way for the Consul-General's one-way trip, but this would also be his first and last ride on a flying-horse. Never again!

Never!

When the final rocket had been fired and they were gliding back towards the field, Steve reached forward and nudged the Herald's shoulder.