D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

The top of the bridge came into view, barely visible through the swirling fog.

“Got it,” Mark said, obviously relieved. “Little to the right… little more…”

We sailed by the left of the bridge with only a few yards to spare.

Mark lifted his walkie. “Stand by. This is it,” he announced.

He waited another two seconds, then shouted to Kasha, “Down! Now!”

Kasha pushed the stick forward. We dove to the deck. The four choppers were right on our tail. Suddenly the fog cleared, and the massive front wall of the conclave appeared before us.

“Oh, man,” Courtney gasped. It was her first view of the imposing structure.

I was more concerned about seeing something else. It was the next piece in the puzzle. If it wasn’t there, we’d be in trouble.

It was. Exactly where it had to be.

“On the money,” Mark called over the walkie. “Take it out!”

He motioned for Kasha to break off our run. “Go! Get outta here!” She throttled up and broke hard to the left. The choppers behind us didn’t. They stayed on line, headed right for the target.

Saint Dane’s flume.

Kasha pulled up and circled around so we could get a view of the attack. The stolen helicopters were armed with the same type of rocket that we had seen used to blast the zoo building. The first two choppers let them fly. Multiple white streaks shot from their bellies, headed for the mouth of the flume. They hit. Hard. The explosions were deafening. Right on target. The first two choppers broke off, left and right, barely missing the wall of the conclave. The way was clear for the second two choppers to make their attack run. They launched, again hitting the flume dead-on. Debris from the concussions flew high into the air. Smoke was everywhere. It was hard to see exactly what damage they had done. The second set of helicopters broke off. The first two had already come around for a second run. They launched again, pulverizing the ground around the flume.

“Hang on,” Mark ordered into the walkie. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

All four choppers circled away. We watched the ground, waiting for the smoke to clear. The plan we had devised to battle Saint Dane and his dado army was tricky. It relied totally on timing. Our success or failure in destroying this flume could easily mean the difference between victory and defeat. We knew that Saint Dane would send his army to Eelong, so we used that. We wanted him to use his power to build a flume. We wanted the dados to go. All of the dados. We just didn’t want him to be able to bring them back. At least, not quickly.

“They’re going to find the other flume,” Courtney said soberly.

“Eventually,” I said. “Hopefully, too late.”

“Why don’t we destroy the other one too?” Kasha asked.

Mark kept his eyes on the clearing smoke as he answered. “We put everything we had into this attack. There are no more rockets.”

We knew that from the beginning. We only had enough firepower to destroy one flume. Whether we liked it or not, we were going to have to face the army of dados. Our hope was that we would stand a better chance against them from behind the walls of the fortress. That was the thinking, anyway. There was still a very big hurdle to jump over before we got that far. We had to invade and control the fortress.

Right. That.

“I can see it,” Kasha exclaimed.

The smoke cleared, revealing a huge expanse of shattered rocks, dirt, and debris. The flume was sealed. “I’m thinking they know we’re here,” I said. “Yeah,” Mark concurred. “Now it gets scary.”

We had come up with a bold plot for the conquest of Ravinia.

The exiles and gars had accepted the battle. We had successfully evacuated Black Water and brought them to Third Earth. Saint Dane had created a flume and used his dark spirit to send his dado army to Eelong, just as Nevva said he would.

Then we destroyed their flume, trapping the dados on Eelong.

That is, they were trapped until they discovered the second flume. I had no doubt that as soon as they realized they were on the wrong territory, the dados would leap into the second flume and return to Third Earth. The wild card would be how long it would take the dado army to change gears and deal with the unexpected. I hoped the size of that army would actually help us. It wouldn’t be easy to reassemble so many and quickly march them into the second flume. At least, that’s what we were counting on.

Surprise had been on our side. Not anymore. With the firing of those missiles and the destruction of Saint

Dane’s flume, we had announced our arrival. The clock was definitely ticking. Our goal was to control the Conclave of Ravinia before the dados returned. We stood a much better chance against that immense army from behind the protective walls of the conclave. That was the immediate goal. We needed to get into the conclave. Quickly.

“Here they come,” Mark announced.

Rising up from the factory beyond the gates of the conclave were helicopters. I counted a dozen. Just as we expected.

“Get us on the ground,” I ordered Kasha.

She quickly dropped the gig to the edge of the river that separated Manhattan from the Bronx. We landed on the conclave side. It wouldn’t be good to be in the air, because we knew what was coming. The rebels who had blasted the flume were long gone. They knew what was coming too.

Mark ordered a simple, sharp command into his walkie. “Take ‘em down.”

We all looked to the Manhattan side of the river. There, lined up along the far bank, stretching out for several hundred yards, were dozens of yellow taxicabs. Crouched down in front of each cab were two gars.

With radio cannons.

The green tubes were on their shoulders, pointed to the sky. The trap was set.

The Ravinian copters rose in attack formation. It was an imposing sight. Even from where we were, I could see their rocket launchers beneath. I had no doubt that they were fully loaded. They hovered together until the formation tightened up, then moved forward as one, headed toward Manhattan and the oncoming army of exiles and gars.

Toward our radio cannons.

“Tell me those things really work,” Mark said softly. “Watch” was my answer.

Courtney leaned in to me. One way or another, this was going to get ugly.

The wave of choppers cleared the fortress wall and passed over the destroyed flume. I heard their engines revving harder. They were ready to do some damage. They were about to cross the river when the trap was sprung.

There was no sound. No explosion. No rocket trails. The only way we knew that the radio cannons had begun firing was that the helicopters started to gyrate. It was as if they were hit by an invisible force. The gars hit dead-on-target. The choppers kept moving forward, but they had lost control. Each spun in a different direction. Two went down immediately. They slammed into the ground, their rockets exploding on impact.

“Wow,” Mark gasped. That said it all.

Two more helicopters collided. The explosion ate up another that flew into them from behind. I don’t think the dado pilots had any idea what was happening. One moment they were in tight formation, moving forward. The next it was chaos. And destruction.

Three more choppers bought it, slamming into the ground. The area in front of the conclave had become a mass of twisted steel and fire. I was happy to see that at least two of them had crashed into the flume grave. If it wasn’t sealed before, it definitely was after that.

The few helicopters that had escaped the initial barrage fought back. They must have been far enough behind to see the strange lineup of taxicabs on the other side of the river and realized where the attack was coming from. They fired their rockets. Instantly two taxicabs were hit. I couldn’t watch. The Ravinians had drawn blood. We had gotten this far without a single casualty. I knew that wouldn’t last, and it didn’t. I don’t know how many gars and rebel drivers died in the helicopter attack, but I do know that none of them left their positions. Every last one of those sharpshooters continued to fire at the helicopters until the end.