按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
r。
Were there any mountains this high around here？ He couldn't remember； and he couldn't see over the top of the instrument panel； bent over the way he was。
First things first。 He twisted her helmet back straight。 The face shield was shattered； broken； but it had protected her face and eyes from the worst of the impact
She was dazed。 She damn well better e out of it quick； because he sure couldn't land this plane。
Her right eye was covered with goo； whether hers or the bird's be couldn't tell。 He wiped at it with his gloved fingers。 The bird's。
Her left eye was clear but unfocused； bunking like crazy。 〃C'mon； Rita baby。 I can't keep flying this thing！〃 In his frustration he shouted。 She couldn't hear him。
Back to the panel： 135 knots。 Maybe he could engage the autopilot。
Yeah； the autopilot。 If it would work。 He jabbed at the switches and released the stick experimentally。 Yeah！ Hot damn！ It engaged。
He devoted his attention to her。 Cuffed her gently； rubbed her cheeks。 She shook her head and raised her right hand to her face。
He got himself rearranged in his seat and held his mask to his face。 〃Rita？〃 Nothing。 No sound in his ears。 Now what？ He had forgotten to plug the cord to his helmet back in。 He did so。 〃Goddamnit； Rita；〃 he roared。 〃Snap out of it。〃
Someone was talking on the radio。 He listened。 He could hear the words now。 It was Grafton。 Toad keyed the radio mike。 〃We took a bird hit。 Rita's a little dazed。 We're going to land at Fallen when she es around。〃
〃Understand you took a bird。 Where？〃
〃Right in the cockpit； CAG。 Hit Rita in the head。 We're going to Fallen when she es around。 Now I'm leaving this freq and calling Fallen on Guard。〃 Without waiting for a reply； he jabbed the channelization switches and called Fallen tower。 〃Fallen tower； this is Misty 22 on Guard。 Mayday。 We're fifteen or twenty mites out。 Roll the crash truck。〃
Which way are we heading？ 120 degrees。 He tugged the stick to the right and settled into a ten…degree turn； which the autopilot held。 Fallen was off to the west here somewhere。 He craned to see over the instrument panel in that direction。
〃Misty 22； Fallen tower on Guard。 Roger your Mayday。 e up。。。〃 and the controller gave them a discrete frequency。
Hey； stupid； look at the radar。 He examined it。 Be patient； Toad； be patient。 You're doing okay； if only Rita es around。 And if she doesn't； well； screw it。 You can figure out some way to eject her right over the runway； then you can hop out。 Too bad those penny…pinchers in the puzzle palace never spent the bucks for a mand ejection system for the A…6。 But you can get her out somehow。 It's been done before。 There…that must be the base there； just ing onto the screen from the right。 He waited until it was dead ahead； then pushed the stick left until the wings were level。 Now he dialed in the Fallen tower freq and gave them a call。
Rita was using her right arm to get her left up to the throttle quadrant。 〃Toad？〃
〃Yeah。 You okay？〃
〃What…〃
〃Bird strike。 All that goo on you is bird shit and gore。 Relax； it ain't you。 Can you see？〃
〃I think…right eye's blurred。 This wind。 Left is red…blood…can't see。。。〃
〃Okay。 I got the gear and flaps down and we're on autopilot motoring toward Fallen。 After a while or two you're gonna land this thing。 Just sit back right now and get yourself going again。〃
She rubbed at her face with her right hand…
The autopilot dropped off the line。 Automatically she grasped the stick and began flying。
〃See；〃 exclaimed Toad Tarkington triumphantly； 〃you can do it！ All fucking right！ We're almost home。 Raise your left wing。〃 She did so and he resumed his monologue； only to pause occasionally to answer a question over the radio。
Rita Moravia flew by instinct； her vision restricted to one eye； and that giving her only a blurred impression of the attitude instruments on the panel before her。 It was enough。 She could feel the plane respond to her touch； and confirmation of that response was all she needed from her vision。 Needed now。 She would need to see a lot better to land。 The wind…it was part of the problem。 The wind wasn't ing into the plane through the shattered quarter panel at 140 knots…the closed cockpit prevented that…but it was ing in at an unfortable velocity and temperature。
Cold。 She was cold。 She should slow some more。
She tugged at the throttles with her left hand。 Her arm was numb： her fingers felt like they were frozen。 The power levers came back； though the engine…RPM and fuel…flow tapes were too blurred to read。 Still she turned her head and squinted with her good eye。 She could make out the angle…of…attack stoplight indexer on the glare shield and trimmed to an on…speed condition。
For the first time she looked outside； trying to see the ground。 Just a blurred brown backdrop。 But Toad could get her lined up。
She tried to make her left thumb depress the ICS button； and after a few seconds succeeded。 〃Where are we？〃
〃e left about twenty degrees and start a descent to。。。 oh； say； six thousand。 Can you see？〃
〃I can see to fly。 Can't see outside very well。 Get me lined up and all and I think I can do it〃
Toad got back on the radio。
She made the heading change and only then retarded the throttles slightly and let the nose slip down a degree or so。 One thing at a time。 She had once had an instructor who liked to chant that to his students； who were often in over their heads。 When it's all going to hell； he used to say； just do one thing at a time。
The plane sank slowly； the altimeter needle swinging counterclockwise with about the speed of an elevator indicator。 So they had all day。 Go down slow and you have an easy transition at the bottom。 Go down too fast and。。。 As she sat there she continued to blink and flex her left arm。 Doesn't feel like anything's broken； just numb。 Maybe the world's most colorful bruise on my shoulder； some orange…and…purple splotch that will be the envy of every tattooed motorcyclist north of Juarez。
She was hurting now。 As the numbness wore off she was hurting。 Her face felt like someone had used a steak hammer on it。 Like she had slid down the sidewalk on her cheekbone for a couple hundred yards。
〃e right about fifteen degrees or so and you'll be lined up；〃 Toad said。 〃You got fourteen thousand feet of concrete here； Rita； but I think we should try for a wire。〃 He reached up with his left hand and pulled the handle to drop the tailhook。 〃Just keep it lined up and descending wings level and we'll be in fat city。〃
〃Fuel？ How's our fuel？〃
〃About ten grand or so。 Just a little heavy。 Let's dump the fuel in the wings。〃
Rita reached with her left hand； up there under that blown…out quarter panel； for the dump switch on the fuel management panel。 〃I can't get it；〃 she said finally。
〃I'll get it。〃 Toad leaned across and hunted until he had the proper switch。
〃Landing checklist。〃
〃Okay； you got three down and locked； flaps and slats out； stab shifted； boards？〃 She put them out and added some power。 It took a while to get the plane stabilized on speed again。
〃Pop…up？〃 Toad murmured when she once again had everything under control。 〃Can you check the flaperon pop…up？〃 The switch was on her left console。 She had to lower her head and look as she rumbled with numb fingers。 〃Watch your wings；〃 Toad warned。
She brought the wings back to level。
〃Screw the pop…up；〃 Toad announced； figuring that she just couldn't ascertain the switch position。 〃It's probably still on。 Check the brakes。〃
This also took some doing。 She had to lift both feet free of the deck where her heels rested and place the balls of her feet on top of the rudder pedals； then push。 She had never before realized what a strain that put on her stomach muscles。 She was weak as a kitten。 She struggled and got her feet arranged and pushed hard。 They met resistance。 〃Brakes okay。〃 She would have to do this again on the runway if the hook skipped over the short…field arresting gear or she landed long。 For now she let her feet slide down the pedals until her heels were once again on the deck。
〃My mask。〃 She gagged。 〃Get my mask off！〃
Toad got her right fitting released just in time。 She retched and the vomit poured down over her chest。
Seeing Rita vomit and smelling that smell； Toad felt his own stomach turn over。 He choked it back and helped her hold the plane level until she stopped heaving。
〃Okay；〃 she said when she finally got her mask back on； 〃check your harness lock and we're ready to do it。〃 She took her hand off the stick and locked the harness lever on the forward right corner of the ejection seat。
〃Oh； poo；〃 Toad said。 She glanced his way。 He was reconnecting his Koch fittings。 〃Sort of forgot to strap myself back in；〃 he explained。
She ran her seat up as far as she could and yet still reach the rudder pedals。 This put her a face a little higher out of the wind； and in seconds she could see better； but only out of her right eye。 Her left was still clogged with blood。
〃You're ing down nicely； passing six thousand MSL； eighteen hundred above the ground。 Let's keep this sink rate and we'll do okay。 e left a couple degrees； though。〃
She plied。
〃A little more。 And gimme just a smidgen more power。