In this position, I was far more secure on her back, and we zipped around bullets at what wasn’t hyperspeed but was still pretty darned fast. Was definitely grateful for the goggles. And the gloves and sunscreen, because it was still hot as hell up here, and flying through hot air was just as comfortable as it sounds.
The cockpits were set up with the gunner in front and the pilot behind. Each was in his or her own compartment. Couldn’t make out much in terms of who the various pilots and gunners might be. They were all wearing sunglasses, caps, and headsets, which pretty much ensured that I wouldn’t be able to pick any of them out of a lineup. My only takeaway was that they were all dudes or chicks who were on the manly side of the house.
The other Turleens were causing issues for the helicopters. The Turleens were small and maneuverable, and that made them thankfully hard to hit. Muddy hadn’t been lying, either—the Space Turtles were working together to get the choppers to shoot at each other in a variety of ways that involved a lot of swooping and what looked like a lot of near misses.
My music changed to “It’s My Turn to Fly” by The Urge. Wasn’t sure if this was a clue or not, but by zipping, swooping, and swerving Lily had gotten us up to the cockpit of the lead chopper.
We were sort of sitting on the nose. Well, not really sitting. We were hovering but keeping pace with the chopper so that was the next best thing. Our staying low enough not to be taken out by the blades was the other best thing.
Lily was somehow flying backwards, since I was looking in at the guys inside the cockpit. I was hella impressed, not that I had time or ability to share this with her. Was thankful for the goggles because they were also keeping my hair from whipping around in my face, at least somewhat.
The positive of this was that the bad guys stopped shooting since I was in front of them but in a spot where they couldn’t hit me. The other choppers didn’t fire at us, either, in part because they’d be more likely to hit their own side and in other part because the Turleens were keeping them very occupied. All of this was good because they’d stopped firing at Caliente Base.
The bad part was that I had no idea how long we could last like this, the chances of one or more Turleens being hurt or killed was high, and at any moment the gunners might decide that they didn’t care about us and start firing on the Base again.
The wind in this position wasn’t awful, but chose not to look down because I sincerely doubted we were low to the ground. Not that I could tell. Lily was doing a great job of being a remora to this particular great white shark, and I honestly had no idea where we were in the not-so-friendly skies. Looking up at the blades was also right out—I didn’t need any more stress than I already had in this situation.
Knew the glass was reinforced, but we had to get through it somehow. Well, I had to get through it. Because it didn’t take genius or a song cue to tell me that the best way for me to protect everyone was to get inside this cockpit and take over. Not that I had a lot of helicopter flying experience, but Jerry Tucker, my favorite flyboy, had trained me how to fly pretty much anything, choppers included. I’d be fine. If, you know, I could get inside.
We were basically as steady as we were ever going to get. If there was ever a time to try to reach my Glock, this was it. Besides, if I fell off of Lily I’d land right on the chopper anyway.
Gripping her shell even tighter with my left hand and locking my legs as much as I could, let go with my right and started digging around in my purse. Being faced backwards helped keep the wind resistance on my side, so to speak, and the gloves weren’t a hindrance, for which I was ever so grateful.
Wasn’t sure if the crew in the chopper were aware of who I was and why I was trying to stop them, or if they just wanted to get me and Lily off of their machine, but the gunner flipped me off, then opened what looked like a side window, put out a gun, and started shooting.
Dug in my purse faster. Was rewarded by getting my gun in my hand. Didn’t have time to worry about extra clips right now, but that did mean I couldn’t shoot wildly.
Unlike the guy in the chopper, because he was laying down a steady stream of bullets. All his shots missed, but far too many of them came too close for comfort. Meaning he probably wasn’t going to miss with the next clip.
He pulled his arm back inside, presumably to reload. Took aim, for his head, and fired. Was shocked to see the glass take damage. It didn’t shatter, but it would after a couple more bullets. Fired those bullets.
My shots did break the glass, but none of them hit the gunner. The glass was also shatterproof, meaning it was now a pretty mosaic that was hard to see through. The current Enemy Mine kicked the glass out and it sailed over us—I ducked just in time to not get hit by any of it.
However, the next bullet did indeed hit, right by my left hand. I yelped and let go. Try as I might, started sliding off Lily’s back. My music appropriately changed to American Hi-Fi’s “Save Me.” Was now about ninety-nine percent sure that Algar was at the musical controls—he enjoyed his little jokes, after all.
The dude fired and he hit Lily’s shell again, very near to where my head would have been if I hadn’t been slipping.
Had no idea how much firepower Lily’s shell could take. Muddy had indicated they weren’t afraid of what was coming, but that didn’t mean they were correct in their assessment of the choppers’ weaponry. Besides, I needed to get into the cockpit.
Let go with my legs and slid back. Landed on the front of the chopper, feet first, which was something of a shock. Flipped flat as soon as possible, keeping a tight hold on my Glock.
Managed to keep myself on the chopper’s nose, but it was a lot harder than staying on Lily. Sure, I had all the room I needed to stretch out and luxuriate and all that, but the chopper’s ride wasn’t nearly as smooth as Lily’s. It was about the same as being on top of a runaway train, with almost the exact same terror and adrenaline rush, too. Traveling by Turleen was by far the better way to go.
On the plus side, as dangerous and ridiculous perches went this one wasn’t so bad, mostly because there was some kind of turret on the nose that worked nicely as a brace. However, the turret wasn’t all that large and it was the opposite from the way I needed to go, so didn’t choose to snuggle my butt into it.
Could try to crawl into the cockpit while the dude was shooting at me or I could shoot at him from this position. Decided this was choosing between the lesser of two evils. But I wasn’t slipping around at the moment, and that was definitely one for my meager win column.
Tried to ignore his bullets, which were getting closer to me. Instead, forced myself to relax and let the movement of the chopper become natural while telling myself that I wasn’t moving—the target was. Relaxed even as a bullet ricocheted right by my head. Aimed and fired.