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The first leg
of the epic journey was a straight forward flight across to
Florida. Once the plane had reached cruising height, Zol left
Grayling at the controls and sat with Madeline and Adam.

‘All right?’
said Zol brightly.

‘Yea, fine
thanks… Unusual name?’ Madeline probed.

‘Zol? I suppose
it is. I’m South African – as you’ve probably guessed. My parents
seemed to have a sense of humour; Zol is a hand rolled cannabis
cigarette.’ explained Zol.

‘So, how’ve you
made your money, in cannabis cigarettes?’

‘No, not
exactly - Pharmaceuticals, mainly sleeping tablets.’

‘So why have
you changed sides?’ asked Adam.

‘Good question.
As good as it is, I realise now that this world, this utopia cannot
go on forever. We either irritate or harmonise with our host – with
you.’

‘You put up the
funds to attempt to keep me here?’ said Madeline.

‘Nuttall has a
different approach to the situation. It all seemed a good idea at
first but now I have my doubts,’ said Zol.

At that moment
Grayling, the co-pilot called him on the intercom.

‘Excuse me,
seems I’m needed.’

Madeline and
Adam were left on their own in the luxurious seats, each with a
glass of champagne.

‘Do you trust
him?’ asked Adam.

‘What have I
got to lose? He seems genuine enough…’

Adam finished
off his champagne, reclined his seat and quickly fell asleep.
Madeline had far too much on her mind to drift off. The evidence
was there, irrefutably, this world, this life, everything about it
was of her own fashioning. Apparently it was all in her
subconscious – it was her dream – it wasn’t real. But this was
nonsense, surely? This world was real, as real as a cold shower, a
rainy day, Marmite on toast, smiles and sadness. It was
indistinguishable – she lived, was alive in this, her own world.
And it was not as if she had any control over her ‘own world’. At
times it was a cruel place, a sad and tormenting place. Altogether
a far direr prospect was that this wasn’t a dream world and those
white figures at the top of the mountain were angels beckoning her
to her makers, to the pearly gates, to her death.

Then with a
rush of reality, she homed in on everything about her – she was in
a tank. Everything she saw, heard and felt was relayed from
Madeline, a robot. Small TV screens in front of her eyes and
earphones were permanent fixtures. Numerous direct connections to
her nerves gave her feeling. She had become accustomed to it, so
much so that it was second nature but it wasn’t real – it never
could be. However she looked at it, life wasn’t real. She was
either in a dream state or saw it artificially through the wonders
of technology.

She became
depressed with her thoughts, a saline tear formed. Zol returned
from the cockpit, Madeline snapped out of her gloom and
surreptitiously wiped her tear away.

‘Landing in
Ocala in a few minutes. We’ll refuel and be off again in about an
hour,’ said Zol.

Adam was still
asleep, oblivious to his girlfriend’s state of mind. Zol noticed
the tear but remained discrete. He smiled at her and returned to
the cockpit.

The jet landed
smoothly as usual, piloted by Zol. All but Grayling got out and
stretched their legs. Strictly speaking Madeline didn’t have to do
this or drink that glass of champagne but she didn’t want to make
Adam feel uncomfortable. Madeline’s legs certainly didn’t need
stretching and when they did, to circulate the oil, it was wise do
behind closed doors with a carefully chosen audience.

A black fighter
jet landed some distance away. It may have been a common sight on
this airstrip but Zol and Adam watched on uneasily, as a tanker
raced over to refuel it.

Madeline was
more concerned about her short flimsy pink dress clashing with the
paisley lining of her white leather jacket. This was easily
remedied - she took the jacket off off.

The next leg of
the journey to Alaska also went without incident. Adam got bored
and in desperation, read the in flight literature which amounted to
a few Home and Beauty magazines. Madeline caught up on her tweets;
this was something she felt necessary to do. She was now a bona
fide fashion icon with a rapidly growing cult following regarding
her dress sense.

At the next
refuelling stop, the temperature was noticeably cooler, especially
for Adam. Florida was a comfortable 28 degrees; Fort Yukon airstrip
in Alaska was a spine chilling minus 10. Despite this, Madeline
refused to put her jacket back on. After all, it was a lovely short
pink dress with a daringly low cut neck line and three quarter
length butterfly patterned lace sleeves – such a shame to cover it
up.

There was
nowhere really to go, it was just a matter of breathing in a lung
full of icy fresh air and then getting back on board.

Strangely
enough, a black jet fighter happened to land close by. It looked
exactly like the one gracing the airstrip in Florida but surely
that would have been too much of a coincidence.

Chapter 43: A
black menace

From now on
they would be leaving the strictly supervised American air space
behind and head towards the desolate and inhospitable parts of
Russia and beyond. From out of the window Madeline could make out
the Bearing Straits where America ended and Russia began she could
also make out a black jet fighter in the distance, rapidly heading
towards them.

‘Zol, I think
we’ve got company,’

Zol peered out
of the window and immediately headed towards the cockpit.

‘Oh my God,
it’s firing at us!’ screamed Adam in an unusually high pitched
voice.

The seat belt
sign came on and the plane aggressively dived without warning. Adam
watched as the missile past over the top of him and the plane. Zol
came through on the intercom.

‘
Madeline,
see if you can talk some sense into Nuttall; can’t see a way out of
this.’

‘Nuttall,
Nuttall!’ yelled Madeline to herself.

No reply came
back. He was either out of range or he was ignoring her. Either
way, this was bad. It wasn’t the best place in the world to crash a
plane. The sea below was icy cold and certainly nobody would be
around to rescue them… if anyone happened to survive. The plane
levelled up and then tried to gain some height. The twin jets
screamed on full throttle. It was a very agile plane but was never
designed for even the mildest form of combat. Adam spotted the
enemy jet turning around for a second pass. The first pass, they
were lucky, they wouldn’t get away with it again. The jet fighter
rapidly approached. This time Zol couldn’t out manoeuvre it, he
tried to climb out of the line of fire but this time the missile
was on target, moments later it hit. The starboard engine instantly
stopped screaming and dramatically exploded. Many bits of turbine
spewed out of the rear nozzle along with flames and thick smoke.
The Learjet was now running on one engine.

‘He’s targeting
the engines… we’re a sitting duck,’ shouted Zol through the
intercom.

Madeline ran in
to the cockpit.

‘Zol, I need
the door open!’

‘Can’t at this
height… have to depressurise!’

‘Do it!’ yelled
Madeline.

Zol put the
Learjet into a serious dive. Fortunately Adam had his seatbelt on
but Madeline hadn’t. Weightlessness was a strange and wasted
experience for an android. She floated gently out of the cockpit,
past Adam and towards the rear of the plane. Finally the plane
levelled up. The oxygen masks dropped, the interior suddenly went
cold and misty and Madeline dropped heavily to the floor.

‘Okay, we’re
depressurised, the door should open. He’s coming in again for
another go!’ said Zol through the intercom.

The black
fighter jet was now on its third pass and was approaching with
almost the speed of a bullet. Madeline already had her laser finger
set on full, she threw the levers and yanked the door open on its
hinges. Air rushed into the cabin along with thick smoke from the
destroyed engine. She found a grab handle to hold on to with her
left hand and carefully aimed her right hand with the laser finger
directly at the pilot’s eyes. Time slowed down, milliseconds turned
into seconds – it had to be the adrenalin in her veins. She waited
until the last possible moment and then fired. The green laser beam
sliced a hole in the fuselage. A hit but just a superficial wound,
the jet was still on course. She instantly fired again but missed
the plane entirely. In the mean time, another missile had been
fired and was now on its way heading for the second engine. Moments
later the missile hit. Zol saw it coming but with only one engine
powering the plane, couldn’t do much about it other than sit there
and grit his teeth. Luckily the missile missed the port engine but
clipped the wing. The Learjet was now unstable, Zol fought with the
controls to keep it steady.

The fighter jet
was now approaching for the forth time; it had wounded its prey and
was now in for the kill. The next missile would surely finish them
off.

It was a
gambol, her energy reserves were down to 8% - she engaged explosive
motion, level 3. (Now she could do this in an instant with the
training she had with Vampire bats). Her left arm firmed up like
the arm of a JCB digger, her grip locked like a blacksmith’s vice
on the grab handle. Much better, she held perfectly still and fired
her laser for the third time, the whole of the cockpit lit up.

That was the
end of the jet fighter; it plummeted into the cold sea below
leaving a column of black smoke above it.

‘Adam!’
screamed Madeline, ‘Nearly out of power, can’t hold on.’

Adam could see
her plight. She was dangling out of the doorway. He raced over to
her and grabbed her right hand just as her left hand released its
grip on the grab. The plane jolted and Madeline was outside the
door - outside the plane. Adam wrapped his feet around the nearby
seat frame and held on to her for dear life. She was heavy and his
grip was slipping. Sweat poured from Adam despite the freezing air
rushing into the cabin.

‘Sweetheart,
you’ll have to let me go. I’ll be alright,’ Madeline shouted.

‘Not on your
life, I’ve got you,’ Adam lied.

‘No you
haven’t!’

The writing was
on the wall - the grip was failing. Madeline was going to fall,
without a chute this time, many thousands of feet into the sea
below. Adam cried out, he tried to increase his grip but Madeline
was too heavy – much heavier than a normal size zero, one, two or
three – whatever, slip of a girl. Adam desperately needed explosive
motion but he didn’t have it. He knew Madeline, despite her
invulnerability, almost certainly wouldn’t survive the fall.
Madeline could see Adam was in pain but recognised his fortitude.
Adam sensed her slacken her grip, however it was not through
surrender but because she was completely out of power, even her
backup batteries were spent – she was dead again.

There was
little hope, within seconds Madeline would be falling towards the
sea below at terminal velocity. The only way out now was a little
help from a fairy Godmother – she obliged.

The Learjet hit
an air pocket and plummeted downwards. Suddenly Madeline was
weightless and floated upwards, Adam seized the moment and dragged
her into the cabin. His whole arm was numb with pain but he found
strength to close the door and then flaked on the plush carpet.

It was touch
and go, Zol continued to fight with the controls to stabilise the
plane but Adam was unconcerned, he had faith in Zol. All that
mattered was that Madeline was now safe.

After a few
minutes, Adam gained enough strength to lift Madeline into her seat
and plugged her into a handy 13 amp power socket. Then he strapped
himself into his own seat and fell asleep.

Being dead,
Madeline (Poppy) was now disconnected completely from her android
body. She had no way of knowing her fate. Most likely she was now
bobbing about in the cold Bering Sea and if that was the case there
was very little chance of survival even for an android.
Realistically Adam couldn’t possibly have pulled her into the
plane. Her last sight was seeing his hand slipping off her hand.
That was the end then, only DVD’s to look forward to. She was
considering feeling sorry for the pilot she had just vaporised but…
he asked for it. He shouldn’t have fired missiles at a defenceless
little Learjet.

Chapter 44: A
special android

Only one engine
and a hole in the wing necessitated an emergency landing at a place
called Kresta bay on the far outskirts of north east Russia. It
wasn’t a particularly smooth landing, not because of the serious
damage but because of the state of the landing strip. It was
unclear if it was made of tarmac, concrete or hard mud but it was
clearly not designed for Learjets with pretty little alloy
wheels.

Adam considered
himself to be in a bad way: He had another pounding headache, the
depressurisation and breathing through an oxygen mask hadn’t helped
and his arm was aching - but these things were relatively trivial.
It could have been a lot worse. If both engines had been hit, the
Learjet would have had to have ditched in the icy sea then they all
would have frozen to death, drowned or have been slowly eaten by
sharks.

Unfortunately,
with Madeline temporarily dead, Adam had no one to comfort him with
his throbbing head. This used to be one of Madeline’s top talents
(inherited from Poppy but he didn’t know this). She could position
her fingers in just the right spot on his temples and massage the
throbbing pain away.

Zol emerged
from the cockpit; he needed to see the hero of the day. It was now
clear to him that Madeline was inordinately unique. Normal people
can’t shoot fighter jets out of the sky with their finger. Normal
people don’t hook themselves up to the onboard power supply to
recharge, they just eat. Zol opened another bottle of bubbly.