From the Street (ss) by Anthology

Author:Anthology [Anthology]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf

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I eased back on the throttle as the t-bird crested the last hill, the final obstacle between us and the rough banks of the Snake River. In the grainy green vision of the Banshee's night-vision sensors, however, it appeared like a wide black ribbon directly in front and below, an irregular liquid blacktop highway belonging to Mother Nature. The remote location of our rendezvous, sixty kilometers away from curious eyes of Richland in the Salish-Shidhe, was uneven and broken, so the only flat stretch available to land for several kilometers was the Snake River itself.

I brought my arms in and leaned slightly to the left in a gentle glide. In response to my virtual body movements, the t-bird's vehicle control rig eased back on the port jets and angled the starboard jets outward. This caused the t-bird to yaw leftwards, until our flight path angled about 20 to 30 degrees to the right of the river's course.

I spread the arms of my simsense body out and straightened my virtual legs below me. The t-bird responded by extending the rear canard flaps and lowering its landing gear. As the nose passed over the water, I cut all power to the maneuvering jets and redirected them into the vertical jets. A giant fan of steam and spray blossomed behind the t-bird like a peacock's plumage at the height of mating season. As speed drained from the bird, the wheels on the landing gear briefly caressed the water's surface, and the aircraft bounced upward, a 30-ton stone skipping across the river's surface.

This gave the t-bird momentum to cross the far side of the bank, barely. The front landing gear plunged into the burbling water, but before the underbelly could meet the river's embrace, the running wheel clawed the gravelly bed of the river. In seconds it emerged from the drink and rolled upon the gravelly beach. By the time the rear wheels touched down, the t-bird had cleared the waters, leaving nothing but spray to moisten the rear tires.

As the engines dwindled to a gentle purr, I redirected the exhaust back into the maneuvering jets, allowing the t-bird to roll off the beach and over the ridge into a nearby clearing. Waiting for me there was a fuel tanker and a Bulldog panel truck, property of our refuel and refit team. At the edge of the t-bird's Low-Light vision, I saw Johnny's t-bird lurking in the darkness, like a giant steel puma peering on a herd of deer in the opening.

As my Banshee entered the clearing, a person wearing Low-Light goggles jumped off the back of the fuel truck and ran towards my vehicle. He switched on a pair of torchlights and began guiding me into parking position. Once I had piloted the Banshee into satisfactory position, the ground guide raised his torches above him in an "X." He then brought one light down across his neck, in a slitting motion, before killing both lights.

I powered down the engine in response to his signals.

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