Dyan stepped from the open car into a dimmly-lit cavern hewn from the mountain the city sat upon. He found himself standing on a narrow platform that led to the cockpit of a small ship. It was an older F-186 heavy fighter/bomber. It's stubby wing pylons held only empty mounts where the six guns should be. The rear gunners' compartment was likewise empty.
The narrow ramp hung out over the starboard engine and the instrument panel glowed. Dyan guessed the engines were kept pre-fired at all times. As the young lieutenant walked out the ramp a rumble sounded behind him. Turning rapidly, he watched as the elevator car was crushed and the shaft filled with tons of falling rock. The shaft had been collapsed as Olaf had said. Dyan had no choice now, but to fly out.
He climbed down into the cockpit, instantly at home in the seat. The ship was strange to him, but not the feel of it after all the time he had flown combat. As Dyan strapped into the pilot's seat, he saw the instrument panel come to full life. The canopy started down and Dyan quickly pulled his harness tight. While the young pilot pulled on the flight helmet, he heard the distinctive thump and hiss as the umbilical released and fell away. Just as he grabbed the control stick and the throttles, the fighters' engines fired. The canopy grated shut and the locks thumped into place. Instantly, the engines roared to full throttle and the ship hurtled through the dim cavern, down it's launch rail. Dyan was slammed into the thickly padded seat, his head jammed against the headrest. Ahead of him, the darkness fell away as the wall sealing the exit opened, and moments later the old fighter burst into the bright light of day.
The old aircraft banked sharply as it's automatic navigation programming steered the ship through the twists and turns of the deep canyon. Dyan found the whole flight unnerving. He felt helpless as the controls moved in his hands and the ship roared between the narrow rock walls so close by. The young man knew that the slightest error in the programing and he would be no more than a memory, spread across the face of the canyon. He began to sweat profusely as he rode the fighter through the convoluted canyon. And, just when he began to search for some way to override the programming, the fighter flashed out of the canyon and soared over the low foothills East of the city of Kauldierun. A warning flashed on the status panel in front of Dyan, informing him that he now had control of the aircraft.
Gripping the controls, the young pilot banked to starboard and settled onto the bearing Olaf had given him; 112 degrees. East by South-east. Dyan dropped down low and pushed the twin throttles full open. The old 186 leaped ahead. The ground flashed by beneath the young man and he scanned the instruments with a practiced eye. Then the com crackled in his ear.
" Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to come to heading 010 degrees and proceed to land at the main field. Acknowledge. "
Dyan did not respond.
" Unidentified aircraft, you are entering restricted airspace and are ordered to vector into the main field immediately! Acknowledge and comply! "
Dyan remained silent.
" Unidentified aircraft! Reverse course and land at the main field immediately or you will be pursued. Acknowledge at once! " the voice commanded Dyan.
The young pilot said nothing.
" It's your funeral, Mac " the controller said. And a telltale winked on to Dyan's left.
The young lieutenant flicked a switch and the screen in front of him lit, displaying two red dots astern of his ship. Astern and closing fast. Dyan ran his fingers over the board to his left, bringing the shield generator to standby. Out of habit, his fingers passed over the blank spaces where he would have switched the ships guns to life. The empty positions put a cold knot in his stomach as Dyan realized without a doubt, that he was unarmed, unable to fight. Unconsciously, his hand jammed the twin throttles against their limits.
The screen showed the pursuit ships closing swiftly, coming into id. range as he watched. The ships' systems painted an identification on Dyans' screen. He was being chased by a pair of P-991 pursuit fighters. They had a short range, but that was because they were cramped little ships mostly made up of engines and guns. They carried minimal shielding, depending more on their speed and maneuverability.
A quick query of the ships' systems showed Dyan that it was doubtful he would make his destination before the 991's would catch him and shoot him down. The sudden blinking of his screen told Dyan that the fighters had closed into firing range. The young pilot punched up his shields.
The old fighter suddenly lurched in the air, tossed sideways by the first burst from the pursuit ships. Dyan banked and rolled out into a climb. He twisted and rolled as he fought for precious altitude. He knew his only hope for survival lay in his skills as a seasoned combat pilot. The 991's followed right on Dyan's tail, careful not to close into range of the tail guns. Which was a prudent maneuver had Dyan had any guns. But it might buy him enough time to reach UHR airspace.
Even as Dyan thought that, the two ships split and started a run up both sides of Dyans' fighter. The young pilot rolled into a dive out from between the two ships, but not before he took fire again. As his ship rolled out to the left, a brilliant flash lit his starboard engine and Dyan's ship was thrown wing over wing. The young man fought the ship quickly under control, sweeping his gaze over the instruments. He saw a number of ominous red telltales. He also noticed the ship responded sluggishly.
Still, Dyan twisted his old ship through the air, rolling, climbing, diving. And always keeping to his course. But his ship was taking hits. The guns of the pursuit ships ripped through the thin shields of the old fighter easily, exploding heavily against Dyan's hull. Little by little, the old 186 was being torn apart. Red warning lights blazed all over the cockpit, system after system failed and died, and the ship began to lose power and speed.
The pursuit ships circled Dyan like sharks closing in for the kill. And like wounded prey, there was little Dyan could do to prevent it. But he tried, with every trick he knew. The young pilot flew like he never had before. And watched as his shields died under the strain of the gunfire his ship was taking. Then his port engine took a solid, unshielded hit. His port boom rolled up and over, turning his ship upside down. Dyan fought to recover control when his starboard wing tore open with the flash of a bursting shot.
The old ship shuddered and shook, grievously damaged. The young man knew he could not stay aloft much longer. So Dyan nosed over and headed for the ground. Another telltale flashed and Dyan glanced to the dim, flickering screen. Six red dots were closing on him from dead ahead! The young pilot threw his ship into a sluggish climb, intent on dying well, if he had to ram someone to do it.
" Unidentified aircraft, " A voice sputtered in Dyan's ear, " Break off pursuit immediately! You have entered UHR airspace! "
Dyan breathed a sigh of relief! He had made it. Or so he thought. Just before his starboard engine was flamed by another hit! As he fought for control of his battered aircraft, Dyan absently noticed the six fighters ahead of him leap closer as the pilots rammed their throttles open. The flight split and swept down either side of the smoking, tumbling old fighter and engaged the pursuit ships. Dyan saw the sleek fighters of the UHR flash past him, their short, swept-back wings bristling with blazing guns.