Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 4, July 2014 by Alex Hernandez George S. Walker Eleanor R. Wood Robert Quinlivan Peter Medeiros Hannah Goodwin R. Leigh Hennig Page B
Ads: Link
Give them our destination vector.” He turned to scowl at Huntington. “This had bloody well better be worth it, Doctor.”
“It is.”
In front of the lieutenant, GPS showed the carrier falling behind them, and Malta ahead.
“Do you have it on radar?” asked the captain.
After a moment, the lieutenant replied, “Not anymore, sir. I think it’s gone down. Should I go back for a water rescue team?”
“Do an aerial survey. We don’t even know what it was.”
Huntington saw a beacon ahead of them through the rain-swept canopy. He checked his instruments.
“It’s there!” he said. “The mascon!”
“What?” asked the lieutenant. “That’s a rock, not a mountain. I’m not sure it’s even big enough to set down on.”
The captain pointed at the infrared monitor. “Someone’s down there. The pilot.”
#
Yasmine saw the helicopter’s searchlight through the storm before she heard it. It took a minute before it dawned on her that it was coming to rescue her. She tried to make herself as small as possible.
“Go away,” she shouted desperately. “Go away!”
Beside her, the pterodactyl studied the beating machine approaching beneath the clouds. The searchlight played over the rock, illuminating the crashing surf and sea spray.
Without warning, the creature shot straight upward into the clouds, past the helicopter.
“No!” screamed Yasmine.
#
“What the bloody hell was that?” exclaimed the captain.
“Some kind of signal rocket,” said the lieutenant. “The pilot’s still down there.”
Pressed against the side window, Huntington saw a solitary figure on the rock.
“Swordfish one-four,” radioed the flight control tower. “We have a possible SAM launch from your location. Do you–”
The captain interrupted. “Scramble a Harrier.”
“I’m setting down for the pilot,” said the lieutenant.
The captain opened the helicopter’s survival kit and took out the pistol.
On the navigation system, grid-lines appeared on the island, suggesting a landing spot. Huntington noticed it was nearly on top of the figure on the island. But as the Swordfish descended, the figure scrambled away.
The helicopter yawed from side to side in the wind. The lieutenant cursed, trying to keep centered over the rock. Finally he landed with a jarring bounce that rattled the cabin. The engine RPMs dropped.
The captain shoved the door open and leapt out onto the rock. Huntington followed. Whatever was going on, the answers were here. Wind howled. Rain pelted his face.
A girl cowered at the edge of the helicopter downdraft, backed against the crashing surf. What was she doing in the middle of the sea?
The captain was still holding the pistol, and probably regretting it. “Hello?” he shouted over the roar of the engine.
The girl didn’t answer.
“Ciao?” he tried.
“Go away!” shouted the girl, in accented English.
“What happened?” called Huntington.
The girl looked up into the sky desperately, as if hoping for an angel to rescue her.
“Come along,” ordered the captain. He lunged forward and grabbed the girl by the arm.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked.
The captain dragged her into the helicopter. Once they were inside, he slammed the cockpit door shut. When he released her, she fled to the back of the cabin.
“Who is she?” asked the lieutenant.
“Damned if I know,” said the captain, “but it wasn’t safe there.”
“Swordfish one-four. UFO descending toward you at high velocity.”
“We’re returning to Trafalgar . Where’s my bloody Harrier?”
“Lifting off now, sir.”
The lieutenant increased power to the engines, and the Swordfish rose from the island, snatched away like a leaf in the wind.
Huntington removed his headphones, offering them to the girl, but she shrank away from him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
In the roar of the engines, she didn’t answer.
“What was it?” he asked. “The thing on the island with
“It is.”
In front of the lieutenant, GPS showed the carrier falling behind them, and Malta ahead.
“Do you have it on radar?” asked the captain.
After a moment, the lieutenant replied, “Not anymore, sir. I think it’s gone down. Should I go back for a water rescue team?”
“Do an aerial survey. We don’t even know what it was.”
Huntington saw a beacon ahead of them through the rain-swept canopy. He checked his instruments.
“It’s there!” he said. “The mascon!”
“What?” asked the lieutenant. “That’s a rock, not a mountain. I’m not sure it’s even big enough to set down on.”
The captain pointed at the infrared monitor. “Someone’s down there. The pilot.”
#
Yasmine saw the helicopter’s searchlight through the storm before she heard it. It took a minute before it dawned on her that it was coming to rescue her. She tried to make herself as small as possible.
“Go away,” she shouted desperately. “Go away!”
Beside her, the pterodactyl studied the beating machine approaching beneath the clouds. The searchlight played over the rock, illuminating the crashing surf and sea spray.
Without warning, the creature shot straight upward into the clouds, past the helicopter.
“No!” screamed Yasmine.
#
“What the bloody hell was that?” exclaimed the captain.
“Some kind of signal rocket,” said the lieutenant. “The pilot’s still down there.”
Pressed against the side window, Huntington saw a solitary figure on the rock.
“Swordfish one-four,” radioed the flight control tower. “We have a possible SAM launch from your location. Do you–”
The captain interrupted. “Scramble a Harrier.”
“I’m setting down for the pilot,” said the lieutenant.
The captain opened the helicopter’s survival kit and took out the pistol.
On the navigation system, grid-lines appeared on the island, suggesting a landing spot. Huntington noticed it was nearly on top of the figure on the island. But as the Swordfish descended, the figure scrambled away.
The helicopter yawed from side to side in the wind. The lieutenant cursed, trying to keep centered over the rock. Finally he landed with a jarring bounce that rattled the cabin. The engine RPMs dropped.
The captain shoved the door open and leapt out onto the rock. Huntington followed. Whatever was going on, the answers were here. Wind howled. Rain pelted his face.
A girl cowered at the edge of the helicopter downdraft, backed against the crashing surf. What was she doing in the middle of the sea?
The captain was still holding the pistol, and probably regretting it. “Hello?” he shouted over the roar of the engine.
The girl didn’t answer.
“Ciao?” he tried.
“Go away!” shouted the girl, in accented English.
“What happened?” called Huntington.
The girl looked up into the sky desperately, as if hoping for an angel to rescue her.
“Come along,” ordered the captain. He lunged forward and grabbed the girl by the arm.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked.
The captain dragged her into the helicopter. Once they were inside, he slammed the cockpit door shut. When he released her, she fled to the back of the cabin.
“Who is she?” asked the lieutenant.
“Damned if I know,” said the captain, “but it wasn’t safe there.”
“Swordfish one-four. UFO descending toward you at high velocity.”
“We’re returning to Trafalgar . Where’s my bloody Harrier?”
“Lifting off now, sir.”
The lieutenant increased power to the engines, and the Swordfish rose from the island, snatched away like a leaf in the wind.
Huntington removed his headphones, offering them to the girl, but she shrank away from him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
In the roar of the engines, she didn’t answer.
“What was it?” he asked. “The thing on the island with
Similar Books
