Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (58 page)

“We’re going to climb to twelve thousand feet together, side by side! Then you’re gonna nose dive, kill all thrust, and deploy the
Pariah
’s emergency parachutes! I’m gonna hold position over you, open my canopy and, umm…dive to you…”

She could not be serious.
“Tiffany, that’s not possible!”

“It is! I’ve actually seen it done!”

Seen it done? By who?
“Pilots do this?”

“I saw a stunt person do it!”

A stunt person?
“You’re not a stunt person!”

“No, but I am a skydiver! And I’m like,
really
good!”

This took “nuts” to new heights.
“There has got to be an alternative!”

“You’re not gonna be able to land that plane! You’ll die trying!”

“Can’t I just softly crash land somewhere—”

She cut him off sharply.
“We’re doing this! I’m already picking you up on radar! I’ll be alongside you shortly!”
There was another pause.
“This is going to work!”
she said.
“If we do it right, it’s going to work! Trust me! Those are my friends in there, too!”

This made even the wildest of his battlefield feats seem like playground material. But if she was right, and if he
truly
wouldn’t be able to land the
Pariah
anywhere with his limited flying ability…blowing out a nervous breath, he half shook his head.
“All right, Feathers! This is all you!”

“We’re totally gonna do this! The two of us will be famous!”

“That’s great! Maybe they can build a monument where they peel us off the ground!”
He checked his altimeter again. Five thousand feet and climbing.
“Let’s do this, then!”

It didn’t take long for the Superwolf to appear as an unidentified blip on the
Pariah
’s radar as it approached rapidly from the rear. All the while he watched Tiffany zoom toward them, they went over the plan in full detail. Tiffany would park her Superwolf over the
Pariah
and enter an inverted hover, opening her canopy and simply allowing herself to fall out while the
Pariah
nose-dived downward. The
Pariah
would then deploy its emergency drag parachutes—which, to Scott’s knowledge, had never been used—slowing its fall just enough for Tiffany to dive down to it and leaving her Superwolf to fly back to
Northern Forge
on autopilot. As crazy as the plan sounded, it was within the realm of physics, and according to Tiffany, done by a number of stunt skydivers. It had just never been attempted by
her
. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

There were only two seats in the
Pariah
’s cockpit and three people who needed to be fully strapped and harnessed in, once Tiffany was inside. There was only one option available: Scott would have to unharness himself, allowing Tiffany to slide herself into his lap, at which point they’d harness themselves together as one. At least Tiffany was slender. If all else failed, Scott knew it would be up to him to relinquish the harness, hold onto something tightly, and just pray for the best. If he flew off into the sky for a free-fall rendezvous with Planet Earth, so be it. At least his team would have a fighting chance to survive.

The other issue they had to contend with was the leveling off of the
Pariah
without fully-functional elevators to assist with lift. That, ironically, was the easiest solution. Tiffany wouldn’t try to lift the
Pariah
’s nose. She would continue dropping the nose until they came out of the free-fall inverted, at which point she would simply roll it upright.

Despite the constant need to shout over the rushing of wind, the discussion was as thorough as any regular mission brief, with questions back and forth, references to the laws of gravity, and assurances from Tiffany that this plan
would
—not
could
—work. By the end of the conversation, Scott was believing it. This would go down in the Fourteenth’s annals of insanity, but it would work. It
had
to work. They were literally banking everything on it.

The only order of business left was to inform the rest of the crew, if not of the entire plan, at least that some intense aerial maneuvers were about to be made and that there was no need to panic. As Scott told David through the comm, everything would be “under control.” That was the most Scott felt the need to elaborate. Becan, on the other hand, was given the full rundown. The Irishman’s response to the entire explanation was one word: “Bollocks.”

As the conversation came to an end, Tiffany pulled up directly on the side of the
Pariah
, offering Scott a thumbs up. Staring at Tiffany in the cockpit of the Superwolf, it struck Scott for the first time how brave this young woman was. She was sitting pretty in a safe cockpit. Nobody told her she
had
to do this. She was risking her life by leaping out of an aircraft on her own. Scott was fairly confident that not even he had that level of courage.

“You ready to do this?”
Tiffany asked over the comm, the blonde’s voice already scratchy from the excessive amount of screaming required to hold a conversation.

Looking across at her, Scott shook his head.
“Not at all!”

“We’re gonna do it!”
she said with as much confidence as she could muster.
“Just do what I tell you to do and trust me that it’ll work! It’s like, the ultimate trust fall!”

That about summed it up. Blowing out a hard breath in his helmet, Scott prepared himself. His hands were soaked with sweat inside their gloves. He felt like
he
was the one about to leap into the sky. Finally, he gave her the word.
“Ready when you are!”
It was a one-hundred-percent lie.

Tiffany hesitated.

Oh no…she’s freaking out.

“Dive when I say to!”
Her voice cracked. She was crying!
“Dive, now!”

Scott obeyed without even thinking, pushing the stick forward. As the nose of the
Pariah
downturned and the force of the wind against him and Becan shifted, Scott felt his stomach turn on its end. The sky gave way to ground, and the next thing Scott saw was the Earth coming straight toward them from twelve thousand feet in the air.

And he panicked.

Becan pressed back against his seat both from the force of the wind pressing him back and his own urge to back away. The Irishman was totally paralyzed.

Scott, for all of his bravado, was on the verge of tears. There was nothing but ground taking up his view. This was not how planes were supposed to fly. His freak-out was interrupted by Tiffany’s voice yelling at him again.
“Pull back on your throttle! Kill all your thrust! Deploy the parachutes!”

Scott yanked back on the throttle; the
Pariah
’s thrusters died. Gravity took over. They were in a total freefall. Reaching out, he slammed his hand on the button to release the emergency drag parachutes. To his utter relief, they deployed. There was a noticeable jolt as the
Pariah
’s downward speed slowed ever so faintly.

“Keep the nose pointed down!”
Tiffany yelled.
“If you don’t, we all die! Dropping now—see you in a bit!”

See you in a bit. Like she was swinging by his place for a date. Scott’s voice was shaking almost uncontrollably.
“Got it!”
He didn’t have it—not at all. Fighting with the stick, he did his best to maintain a straight downward course.

From her inverted and hovering Superwolf, Tiffany released from her harness. The next thing she felt was the rush of open air as gravity pulled her down. The blonde’s hair and flight suit were getting pummeled. Gaining control of her limbs, she rotated her body until the
Pariah
was in her sights. Tucking her arms in, she entered a dive position and made her rocketing descent.

The reversal of Scott’s stomach felt imminent. Though they were still far above the ground—his altimeter read ten thousand feet—it was growing larger just the same. This was like a horrible dream.

Scott had no idea if this was going to work. Though Tiffany could presumably communicate to him from her helmet, he dared not try to contact her during her dive. She needed to be solely focused on the drop. The drop. As the reality of what they were doing registered, Scott felt lightheaded. Turning his head to the side, he searched as much of the sky as he could see. He couldn’t find her anywhere.
Come on, Tiff. Get over here.

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed on the
Pariah
as she grew ever nearer, coming in at an angle that would take her right for the side of the transport. It didn’t matter if she nailed the cockpit with a bullseye. The most important thing was that she made physical contact with the transport at all. With every second, the Vulture grew closer. Repositioning her body, she prepared to make contact.

Scott’s heart rate was through the roof. He felt like he was about to have a stroke. Where was she? Was she even close? Had she missed? On the verge of a prayer, the blonde caught his eyes. Sliding down the edge of the
Pariah
’s hull on his side, Tiffany’s arms desperately tried to snag part of the open canopy structure. But she was going too fast. To Scott’s horror, she slid right past the nose and toward the ground before he could even reach out to grab her.

Oh no.

This was not what they’d planned. This was not what needed to happen. This was…

The inclination struck Scott immediately.
Drop the parachutes!
Slapping his hands on the parachute release, Scott sent them flying off into the sky as gravity pulled the cursed Vulture with all its might. The distance between Tiffany and the
Pariah
’s nose stopped growing.
Thrust!
Grabbing the throttle, Scott eased it forward. Slowly, the
Pariah
sped to catch up with her.

It wasn’t what they’d planned…but it was working. Tiffany was “falling upward” toward the
Pariah
, drawing within meters. If he could keep the nose pointed straight down, and if she could keep herself moving in a straight line…

…she was doing it!

Scott looked at his altimeter, and all hope was turned on its end. Six thousand feet! They were halfway to the ground.

Just stay straight. You can do it, Tiffany. Just stay straight!

Tiffany turned her head to line up the
Pariah
’s cockpit. The next thing Scott knew, she was at the transport’s nose.

I have to catch her.

Lifting his harness, Scott let go of the joystick. At this point, with Tiffany already sliding up the nose, there was no need to keep the
Pariah
steady. The Valley Girl was already there.

Just don’t turn around, Tiffany! Don’t start spinning out. I’ve got you.
Reaching out with his arms as far as he felt comfortable reaching, he snagged the pilot’s ankle as she floated up to him. A second later, he wrapped his arms around her.

It worked. Of all the crazy, irrational, harebrained ideas they could have come up with, this one actually worked. Tiffany Feathers had just skydived from one airplane into another.

The moment Tiffany maneuvered herself onto his lap, her hands flew to the joystick and throttle. Reaching overhead, Scott pulled the harness down atop both of them. Against all odds, it fit over them both, latching into place with a
click
that Scott felt.

The
Pariah
had a pilot.

Tiffany pushed the throttle forward and slammed down the joystick. Scott looked at the altimeter again. Three thousand feet! Scott peered over her shoulder to get a look at the ground. When he saw it, his eyes widened.

A new burst of thrust came from the Vulture’s engines as the downturn began, and again, the force of wind shifted. But Tiffany was doing exactly what she said she was going to do—she was rolling the
Pariah
upright, but inverted.

Two thousand feet. They were a quarter of the way upright. Seventeen hundred feet. He could make out individual trees. Fourteen hundred.

At that moment, Scott decided to close his eyes. Through the queasiness, he forced a breath of calm. There was no benefit in watching the ground until they smacked into it. He didn’t need to see that. What he needed, more than anything, was to pray.

Pull us up, God. Let her pull us up.

Though he had no idea what their altitude was with his eyes closed, he could still feel the
Pariah
leveling off. He knew that every degree closer to level they came, their rate of descent would lessen.

We’re in Your control.

There was a noticeable shift in wind. Once more, he found himself pushed straight back by an oncoming gale. But it was a gale that felt familiar. With semi-reluctance, Scott opened his eyes.

They were level! The sky was below them, the ground above them, but they were level. Easing the joystick to the side, Tiffany executed a barrel roll as smooth as anything Scott had felt in a Vulture—she made it seem effortless.

They were flying normally.

Leaning his head back—a feat made easy by the force of wind—Scott exhaled a long overdue breath of relief. Resituating himself in a way that allowed Tiffany to sit more comfortably, Scott wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her in place. The act might not have been necessary with a harness there, but it felt natural. If nothing else, it was assurance that he had
her
. Leaning close to her ear, he hollered,
“Are you all right?”

Tiffany didn’t answer out loud. She only nodded her head quickly, almost as if the question wasn’t even something she wanted to think about.
She’s not all right
, Scott thought,
no matter how she responds right now.
What she had just done was…indescribable. Had he not seen it, he wouldn’t have believed it—and he still wasn’t sure this was all real. This one would take time to sink in.

At least time was now something they had.

*
      
*
      
*

HAMI STATION
WAS a smoldering wreck. As Logan Marshall stood there, soot-faced and shell-shocked with the other members of Vector, his impassioned eyes took in the pillars of smoke and strewn bodies that constituted EDEN’s attempt to wrangle in the outlaws. Three lost V2s. At least twenty dead soldiers. A major satellite station destroyed.