Anthony DeCosmo - Schism

A small flashing light announced the approach of Eagle One from its holding pattern out over the Atlantic. It zoomed toward the shoreline fast.

Ashley stumbled on the sand but managed to hold on to the pile of clothes that would replace the shorts and t-shirt she had worn to bed. In response, Gordon reached to steady her pace, dropping his guard for an instant.

Three I.S. agents raced to the patio with weapons drawn. Before they could fire, Benjamin Trump tackled Tucker from behind, yelling some obscenity or another. The surprise hit bought the escaping trio a crucial two seconds; time enough for the transport to swivel about and hover two feet above the beach blowing sand and concentrating its blinding spotlights on the agents at the house. The side door slid open and there stood Odin the Norwegian Elkhound barking encouragement.

Nina jumped into the ship and took Ashley's hand to help her onboard.

Back at the house, Benjamin Trump suffered a solid punch on the chin, sending him unconscious but the former proprietor of the fourth largest fence company in Luzerne County had bought his daughter just enough time: if Tucker had fired his gun a moment sooner he would have hit his intended target, Ashley Trump. Instead, that bullet slammed into the lower back of Gordon Knox as he jumped into the passenger compartment of Eagle One. He grunted. Everything below his waist went numb. His upper arm strength managed to clutch the ship. "Gordon!" Ashley called as she saw an expression of bewilderment paint over his face. She frantically reached for his belt and, with Nina's help, they hauled him inside.

More bullets ricocheted off the ship but Nina closed the door, eliminating any threat from small arms. As she did, the ship banked and flew away from the beach into the rainy night.

Ashley lay on the floor of the compartment with Gordon's head on her lap. Nina broke out a first aid kit and examined the wound. Blood gushed from the small of his back.

Nina understood battlefield first aid and put that knowledge to work in slowing the bleeding with pad after pad of gauze and direct pressure. But she could not discern the seriousness of the injury.

He did not cry out but the contortions on his face suggested great pain. Nina injected him with morphine from the medical kit. Before Gordon drifted into unconsciousness he told them, "I can't feel my legs."

Ashley cradled his head and whispered, "I knew you'd come." He once seemed so scary but was now revealed to be, like her, a fragile human being. "Thank you."

Blood seeped from the bandages, no amount of field triage would suffice. He would need serious medical treatment soon. No exit wound meant the bullet remained inside.

Nina raced through a mental checklist of options as she pulled a blanket from a cabinet and helped Ashley wrap it around Gordon to stave off shock. He needed medical attention, but unlike her Dark Wolves companions Nina knew she could not simply drop him off at a hospital and expect nothing worse than internment. No, Internal Security-once they knew his location-would kill him. Nina turned her attention to Ashley. "You said they took your son. What do you mean?" "That bastard Brad Gannon and a Witiko ship took Jorgie away yesterday."

That explained Ashley's condition. The woman looked a far cry from the dignified first lady of The Empire. She had not slept or probably even ate in the time since her boy vanished.

A buzz on the intercom grabbed Nina's attention.

"We got a problem!"

She responded to Hauser's call by opening the interior bulkhead and joining him in the cockpit, leaving Ashley holding Gordon on the floor between two rows of seats.

Despite her background as a helicopter pilot, Nina had never learned to fly an Eagle. Nonetheless, the ship fascinated her. The roomy cockpit with redundant controls for pilot and co-pilot, the virtual reality goggles that created the illusion of actually being the ship…everything about the craft intrigued her.

She sat in the co-pilot's chair and asked, "What's the problem?"

Hauser, the pilot, told her, "The Chrysaor. She's coming down from the north. We can out run her but…" "Where are we?" Cape May now, heading south. We'll be over water in a minute. But I think…oh shit." Tones burst from the console. A flashing light warned of calamity. Hauser translated, "We've got incoming. Three. Damn it, heat lock and radar lock. Shit!"

Nina felt the transport accelerate. She saw an expression of grim determination on the pilot's face. The new thrust-from Eagle One's modified boosters-pushed her into the chair.

"Hold on…activating counter measures. Chaff away!"

A burst of radar-inhibiting particles dropped from Eagle One's undercarriage, fooling the first of the incoming missiles. It veered away, eventually landing in a long-abandoned coastal neighborhood.

Nina slipped on the duplicate pair of navigation goggles to follow the action. The view astounded her: she saw a night-vision enhanced image of the space in front of the Eagle and, as she turned her head, saw the area all around, including the glint of fire coming from two more inbound missiles.

A symbol on the goggles' display blinked 'heat defeat' as Hauser activated another counter-measure. Flares fell from the craft, pulling the heat seeker into the water below as the New Jersey coastline faded behind. One more… Nina saw the missile zoom closer…closer. The warning chimes blared. Hauser grunted. More chaff. More countermeasures. BAM!

The Eagle rocked side to side as the warhead hit high on the spine of the ship throwing Nina from her chair. Her goggles fell off. She saw a thunderstorm of sparks and electrical bolts engulf the pilot's side. Flames shot out from the side panels. Hauser slumped in his restraints.

She scrambled over, pulled an emergency fire extinguisher, and doused flames. Then she shook his body while also feeling for a pulse, which she found, but Hauser remained unconscious.

Nina sat on her knees on the grating between the two seats. Beyond the thin windshield she saw only darkness as the fast-moving craft began to descend toward the harsh waters of the Atlantic. The Eagle would be torn to pieces on impact.

She gazed at the empty co-pilot's chair. The controls there appeared undamaged. But who would fly the ship?

I will.

Her palms grew sweaty; her heart beat hard as adrenaline pumped into her veins.

Nina cautiously returned to the chair, unsure of how or why she felt she could conjure such a miracle. Yet as she fixed the goggles over her head…as she gazed at the control panel and took hold of the sticks on either arm of the chair…things appeared, just a little, familiar.

For the first few seconds she gently maneuvered the pistol-grip sticks. Her feet worked the pedals to stabilize altitude. Each action rocked the craft clumsily, but the ship did steady.

How can I do this? This is not possible!

She gauged at the altimeter: fifty feet, practically skimming the Atlantic, certainly under the radar net cast by the pursuing Chrysaor. No doubt that dreadnought would soon launch fighters for a detailed search.

Still, Nina faced more immediate concerns. She managed to steady the transport and keep it on course, but could she change that course? If not they would be easy to find, regardless of darkness or altitude.

With full fuel tanks range would not be a problem, but where to go? And they had to go somewhere. While the damage from the missile strike appeared contained, Gordon required medical attention that would not attract Internal Security.

She first thought of Shep. The Southern Command Headquarters lay to the southwest of their position. She could fly them across Delaware Bay and be there in a short time. With Ashley's testimony No.

That's the first place they would look. Ashley would not have the opportunity to testify before the public, a judge, the press, or whatever. Nina doubted they could make it into Annapolis air space. The conspiracy surrounding the apparent assassination of Trevor Stone stretched from the new President to the aliens known as The Order and throughout the Internal Security apparatus. Such a conspiracy had the means to defend itself. She envisioned mobile Internal Security Anti-Air batteries sent to the Highland Beach coast with orders to shoot any incoming transports on sight. If that were not enough, certainly Captain Kaufman would order her jets to sweep the area between the Eagle's last known position and the coast.