Chapter 10: Dragon Slayer

"Allen, you have a special delivery," announced Jennifer. "It feels like books."

"Thanks," replied Allen, taking the carton from her. "We're doing the final edit on the paper, and we'll probably post it, then print it before bedtime."

"At least you and Lena get to work from home now. Here is a letter from her folks." Jen smiled, and then said, "Care of Adonai Mission Foundation, Lago Frio, Chile. The AMF must be pretty busy these days. Anyway here's the post card that goes with the box."

"My plane is here," noted Allen, reading the card. "It's down at the arrival meadow."

"Can you take off and land from there?"

"According to the simulator, I only need 250 feet, and I have that. I should find a place to build a hangar for it though."

"I don't suppose you'd take Juan and I up to have a look around sometime?"

"Sure, once I learn to fly it," teased Allen. "Have a nice day."

Jennifer drove off, stopping at the next two homes to put something in everyone's box. Yes, today was ad day, and all the merchants in town sent flyers listing sale items. Allen didn't get one, because he printed it.

"Lena, my plane is here, so I'm going to check it out. Do you want to take a..."

"NO!"

"Okay, just thought I'd offer."

Allen got into the vehicle and headed for the arrival meadow. Upon reaching the clearing, he saw two of the most recent residents looking the aircraft over, so he drove across the field to where the plane sat. He stepped out and walked over, recognizing Tim and Carl.

"Howdy, I remember you from the militia meeting last week; Tim and Carl, right?"

"I never saw one like this before," admitted Carl. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it started out as a Cessna 206."

"It's an Alpha Mark 7," replied Allen. "They did start out as a 206, but there's not much Cessna left there anymore. Do either of you fly?"

"Buffs," replied Carl. "Tim was a boom operator on KC-135s."

"Yeah, but I had my commercial ticket," added Tim. "So, is this privately owned, or do we consider it like a flying club? We'll be happy to help with the upkeep in exchange for some flying time."

"I suppose being one of our many gifts from God, I can share it," said Allen. "I'll have to copy the simulator program, so you can familiarize yourselves. Or we can take it up and tour the valley."

"Twisted my arm," countered Tim. "Suppose you do the pre-flight, and I'll walk the field and make sure nothing is left from the last arrival."

"It's STOL, so we don't need but 100 yards or so," advised Allen. "I'm sure we won't keep it here. Somebody got their extra 40 acres in a nice, level pasture over on North Road, but I forgot who that was."

"That would be my wife Sharon and I," said Carl. "Prettiest grass strip I ever did see. I flew a Maule at the base aero club, so I'm no stranger to STOL. You're certainly welcome to fly out of there, seeing as how we might share time in it."

"I wasn't sure we had any other pilots," replied Allen. "We're also supposed to get some UAV's soon."

"Yeah, if we can ever get them away from the youth group teens," mused Tim. "There, that's 100 yards."

"Great, let's try her out, and then Carl can drop me off, and go park it at his field," said Allen. "Okay, checklist."

After the preflight checklist was finished, Allen started the dilithium-powered engine, and the gauges read what they should. He set the flaps and canard for short takeoff, and increased the throttle. When the prop RPMs reached the required point, he released the brake, and the Mark 7 surged forward.

"She's peppy for a light plane," remarked Carl, as Allen lifted off. "Do you have the manuals on her?"

"Roger that," concurred Allen, climbing to 5,000 feet in just three minutes. "They're back there with Tim. This is nice, shall we follow the river?"

"What's the ceiling?" asked Tim over the whir of the prop.

"She's rated to 29,000 on Earth. Here, I don't know, we have a heavier atmosphere."

"I see the O2 sensor gauge," noted Carl. "I don't see any oxygen masks though."

"We're getting close to the mountains," observed Allen. "We need to be careful. I know we can top them, but I'm not so sure we should leave the valley."

"What's the cruising range?" asked Tim.

"On Earth it's 2,500 nautical miles at 250 knots," answered Allen, "about ten hours."

"Been there, done that," said Carl, "longer even with refueling."

"We could stay up for days if we brought the extra DL packs," recalled Allen. "I'm more concerned about the ceiling of a pterosaur or dragon."

"I'd venture to say they can't catch us from behind," opined Tim. "They might in a dive, but climbing or level flight, I doubt it. This baby is sweet."

"Bogey at two o'clock low," Carl called out. "Look there, it shows up on the HUD in red, 'dragon, 1.6 miles.' Let's get higher."

"It sees us," noted Tim. "Now he's at 1.5 miles."

"I'm turning away from it," said Allen. "Then again, I don't want that thing to follow us home."

"Where'd he come from?" asked Carl. "Take us to 11,000, heading 230. What's flashing over there?"

"Engage cloaking system," said Allen, and the plane became translucent. "Nope, it's no Cessna 206. If this is like the shuttle, we look like the sky now."

"He's at 1.9 miles now, and zigzagging," observed Tim. "He lost us, or we lost him. Let's go home."

"Here, Carl, take the plane," offered Allen. "I need to look something up."

"I can do that," Tim volunteered.

"In that box there, are the manuals," said Allen. "See if you find anything on defensive measures. I never knew we had cloaking on the plane."

"Oh, yeah, Baby," sang Tim. "We have flares, and a pulse canon; range 1 mile. It's in the prop hub like the old ME-109 and P-39."

"You know we can't leave that thing now that he's seen us, don't you?" reasoned Carl.

"I didn't think we had any armament," said Allen. "I hope we don't draw attention to us if we take him out. I'd almost say to leave him for day after tomorrow once we log time in the simulator in combat mode."

"You're probably right," agreed Carl. "She handles sweet, but I think we dodged the bullet today. Let's take her home and then I'll run you back to the field."

"I concur on a strategic withdrawal," replied Tim. "It'd be nice if we had those drones to fly CAP for us. You said you were on the transport shuttle, right Allen?"

"Roger that, and I believe it's totally voice controlled. It was just the one time, and there was room for maybe 40 troops on board, just like the one in the simulator."

"I wonder if it's armed defensively too?" asked Carl. "I don't suppose you have any sim time in the shuttle?"

"No, Michael said there will be someone else to fly the one we'll have," recalled Allen. "That could be you, Carl; you're used to big aircraft."

Carl landed the Mark 7, and taxied it to the road that divided the two lots. They screwed in the tie down anchors, and walked down to his home. The other 40 acres was planted in oats, and several people were helping Sharon cut it.

"It's about time you got back, Carl," said Sharon. "I see you managed to find a plane. You're the man who does the paper, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," replied Allen. "I met your husband and Tim at the arrival meadow when I went to get the plane. He said we could keep it here. I need to hike back and get my SUV I left there."

"You and me, both," Tim concurred. "Carl, I'll catch you later."

"Allen, see what you can find out about putting up a hangar," requested Carl. "I need to help out here."

"Oh, go on, and drive them over to get their cars," huffed Sharon, "but come right back. You better believe we need the help."

Returning to the arrival meadow, the men found more surprises. First was a roll of some kind of composite mat on a trailer. The roll itself measured seven feet wide, and came with an instruction booklet. It was for laying down a runway, and had a specific location in mind for it.

"Check this out," said Allen. "North of the arrival meadow you will find a plateau where you shall determine the direction of the prevailing wind. At the farthest point upwind anchor the end of the mat to the ground with the wire stakes. We need to find the plateau."

"That way," opined Carl, pointing to the line of trees. "I remember flying over it when we took off. We'll have to go back out to the main road."

"What is this?" asked Tim. "It's more like fiberglass mat than something that could make a runway."

"God works in strange and mysterious ways," remarked Allen, "to us anyway. Let's go find this plateau. It's supposed to be a high level spot."

"A raised relatively flat spot," Carl corrected. "It doesn't necessarily have to be level, or high. If it's where I'm thinking, it's not that high, and just past those woods."