of insane men. I’d die for her if that helps my goal.’
He waits. Maybe he waits for an answer or for another question. All I can do is shrug and say, ‘I don’t feel any of this for anyone.’
‘Not even for Yi-Ting?’
I jump up and chuck the bone into the sea. ‘No. Not even for her.’
‘We have a visual!’ Ben hollers into his mic. ‘Ting, get the package ready.’ He changes the angle of the camera and now we can see it, too. There, atop a crest, is a meadow dotted with green tents and shaggy huts, a black flag waving from a bamboo pole, and large dark shapes covered by tarps and netting. The camp is surrounded by a wall of sandbags, hugged at its back by a thick forest with a steep cliff protecting its flank. A good spot.
I lean forward, every fibre of my body tense as a bowstring.
‘Movement in the camp,’ crackles through the speakers.
‘Quick now,’ Runner warns.
They look like black ants. A bunch of them are turning a large—
‘You’re under fire!’ Kat cries when the massive gun jerks, belching cloud after cloud, bullet after bullet.
Runner was right. The BSA cannot have heard the approach of the solar airplane. They’ve been watching the satellite feeds, the same images they were manipulating so we wouldn’t see what they are doing on the island.
Ben pulls the machine around. The camp dips from view and all we see is the sky tumbling over the jungle and back again. I’m not sure if I’m nauseated from the view or from the shock.
‘Fuckers!’ Ben shouts and the treetops drop back into view. He’s flying low, drawing an arc, and suddenly the camp is filling our screen. ‘Drop the shit, Ting!’
‘Two seconds. Okay, done. Get us out of here.’
Kat rakes her fingers through her short, brown hair, her dark eyes stuck to the feed of the aircraft’s camera.
We all twitch when a spray of bullets zip past.
Ben hollers a series of curses when the forest comes dangerously close. ‘On our way home. Throw a beer in the cooler for me, will ya,’ he grunts.
‘What cooler?’ asks Runner.
‘The fucking ocean, mate! Isn’t that cool enough? I want a party. Kat, I want you drunk and naked. For once! Micka…um…never mind. You aren’t allowed to drink and you fuck girls.’ He cackles like mad. That man is totally high. Kat’ll yank him out of his machine and kick his balls as soon as he lands, I’m sure. As red-faced as she is now, I can’t recommend any form of interaction with her.
I wipe sweat off my face and stare at the screen where a green carpet of trees gives way to the ocean. ‘What was the package Yi-Ting dropped?’
‘A high-speed, high-res camera with a three hundred and sixty degrees view. It transmits images directly to the airplane during its descent. We’ll get a nice view of the camp. When it touches the ground, its payload explodes. A few grams of hydrogel; light weight, nice blast radius. Might take one or two of them down,’ Kat answers.
The word payload makes me think of the toxic pearl on my tongue.
‘If it wasn’t shot down before it hit the ground,’ Runner mumbles.
We all breathe easier when only the ocean slips past the plane. Ben gibbers away, Yi-Ting is silent.
An hour later, everyone is in the tent, screening the oddly circular images the camera sent to Ben’s machine before it detonated.
Runner slides his fingers across the screen, zooming in and out of sections of the BSA camp. He stops at a large gun. ‘That’s the HMG they used, and looks as if there’s another one under this tarp here, and this one could be the outline of a mortar.’
‘What’s an HMG?’ I ask.
‘Short for heavy machine gun. They tried to take down the plane with it.’
‘Lots of heavy stuff.’ Ben points at rectangles covered by green tarps. ‘Armoured vehicles and… Shit! A helicopter?’
We all bend our necks as if that would allow us a better view. Dry palm leaves are piled on a large, tarp-covered thing. It’s taller and
He waits. Maybe he waits for an answer or for another question. All I can do is shrug and say, ‘I don’t feel any of this for anyone.’
‘Not even for Yi-Ting?’
I jump up and chuck the bone into the sea. ‘No. Not even for her.’
‘We have a visual!’ Ben hollers into his mic. ‘Ting, get the package ready.’ He changes the angle of the camera and now we can see it, too. There, atop a crest, is a meadow dotted with green tents and shaggy huts, a black flag waving from a bamboo pole, and large dark shapes covered by tarps and netting. The camp is surrounded by a wall of sandbags, hugged at its back by a thick forest with a steep cliff protecting its flank. A good spot.
I lean forward, every fibre of my body tense as a bowstring.
‘Movement in the camp,’ crackles through the speakers.
‘Quick now,’ Runner warns.
They look like black ants. A bunch of them are turning a large—
‘You’re under fire!’ Kat cries when the massive gun jerks, belching cloud after cloud, bullet after bullet.
Runner was right. The BSA cannot have heard the approach of the solar airplane. They’ve been watching the satellite feeds, the same images they were manipulating so we wouldn’t see what they are doing on the island.
Ben pulls the machine around. The camp dips from view and all we see is the sky tumbling over the jungle and back again. I’m not sure if I’m nauseated from the view or from the shock.
‘Fuckers!’ Ben shouts and the treetops drop back into view. He’s flying low, drawing an arc, and suddenly the camp is filling our screen. ‘Drop the shit, Ting!’
‘Two seconds. Okay, done. Get us out of here.’
Kat rakes her fingers through her short, brown hair, her dark eyes stuck to the feed of the aircraft’s camera.
We all twitch when a spray of bullets zip past.
Ben hollers a series of curses when the forest comes dangerously close. ‘On our way home. Throw a beer in the cooler for me, will ya,’ he grunts.
‘What cooler?’ asks Runner.
‘The fucking ocean, mate! Isn’t that cool enough? I want a party. Kat, I want you drunk and naked. For once! Micka…um…never mind. You aren’t allowed to drink and you fuck girls.’ He cackles like mad. That man is totally high. Kat’ll yank him out of his machine and kick his balls as soon as he lands, I’m sure. As red-faced as she is now, I can’t recommend any form of interaction with her.
I wipe sweat off my face and stare at the screen where a green carpet of trees gives way to the ocean. ‘What was the package Yi-Ting dropped?’
‘A high-speed, high-res camera with a three hundred and sixty degrees view. It transmits images directly to the airplane during its descent. We’ll get a nice view of the camp. When it touches the ground, its payload explodes. A few grams of hydrogel; light weight, nice blast radius. Might take one or two of them down,’ Kat answers.
The word payload makes me think of the toxic pearl on my tongue.
‘If it wasn’t shot down before it hit the ground,’ Runner mumbles.
We all breathe easier when only the ocean slips past the plane. Ben gibbers away, Yi-Ting is silent.
An hour later, everyone is in the tent, screening the oddly circular images the camera sent to Ben’s machine before it detonated.
Runner slides his fingers across the screen, zooming in and out of sections of the BSA camp. He stops at a large gun. ‘That’s the HMG they used, and looks as if there’s another one under this tarp here, and this one could be the outline of a mortar.’
‘What’s an HMG?’ I ask.
‘Short for heavy machine gun. They tried to take down the plane with it.’
‘Lots of heavy stuff.’ Ben points at rectangles covered by green tarps. ‘Armoured vehicles and… Shit! A helicopter?’
We all bend our necks as if that would allow us a better view. Dry palm leaves are piled on a large, tarp-covered thing. It’s taller and
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