If Mercy looked long enough, she could almost see the battle lines themselves, or imagine them, letting her mind fill in the blanks. There, along the nubs of the Smoky Mountains, she could see a strip cut across the earth; it was a fragile thing from such a height, only a dim break in the trees where a railroad ran. It snaked, but not sharply, around the prohibitive geography; and in front of this line, she saw the big guns fanning forward, away from the train tracks, and into the forests.
She leaned out of her seat and asked the cockpit, Captain, how far are we from Fort Chattanooga?
Thirty miles or so. Were nearly on top of Cleveland, a little town outside it, he replied without taking his eyes off the windscreen. From inside that tiny rounded space, blinking green and yellow lights flashed against the faces and hands of the men who worked them. Worst comes to worst, well make it to Cleveland and we can set down there and wait things out.
Gordon Rand nearly sneered, Worst comes to worst? Well crash and die, isnt that closer to the worst end of the possibility spectrum?
Shut your mouth, Mercy ordered him. Have a little goddamned faith, would you?
Everyone stay calm! The captain wasnt quite breaking the veil of muffled conversation that stayed below the level of ordinary chatter, but his voice was rising. No one even knows were up here.
How do you know that? Dennis asked, sounding anxious for the first time.
Because no ones shooting at us yet. Now, all of you, please stay calm, and keep the chatter to a minimum. I need to concentrate.
Their jolly little leader had turned out to be made of sterner stuff than he looked. That was fine by Mercy, who hadnt initially pegged him as a man who was accustomed to handling an emergency. His hands worked the controls with familiarity, and there was a set to his jaw that inspired optimism, if not outright confidence. But she heard the first mate say, We cant go too much higher; these cabins arent pressurized for that kind of altitude.
And the captain responded, Yes, Richard. I know. But if we can just spin it up, we can give ourselves an arc and a boost outside their hearing.
It looks hot down there. They wont hear a damn thing. And if we dont shoot the boosters now, well-
Im doing the best I can. You see over there? He pointed at something no one could see, but all the eavesdropping passengers craned their necks to spy at it regardless. Thats the northern line. Its got to be. And the southern one is back this way. Other than that, I cant make heads or tails of whats going on down there. But its either south or north for us-the fightings running east and west. Ill take my chances with my own kind.
Your own kind cant read in the dark any better than the boys in blue, Richard countered. They wont see that were private and licensed until after they shoot us down, for all the good thatll do us.
Theyre not going to shoot us down. They dont even know were here, Gates repeated.
This was the moment fate chose to make a liar out of him.
Something struck them, a glancing blow that winged the outer edge of the Zephyr s port side. The ship rocked and steadied, and the captain took the opportunity to gun the boosters hard-sending everyone slamming back in their seats. Oh, God, said one student, and the other gripped his friends arm as hard as he gripped the seats arm. Neither one of them was smiling anymore.
Mercy grabbed her seat and took a deep breath that she sucked in slow, then let out all at once.
I thought you were taking us higher! hollered Richard.
The captain said, No point in that now, is there? They damned well know were-
Another loud clang-like a brick hitting a cymbal, or a bullet hitting a cooking pot-pinged much louder and much closer, somewhere along the ships underbelly.
Here. They know were here, he finished as he leaned his full, copious weight back, drawing the steering column with him. From her tense position a few rows away, Mercy could see him digging his feet into a pair of pedals beneath the control panel.
Then whats the plan? the Englishman asked, his words snapping together like beads.
The old woman asked, Whos shooting at us? Our boys, or theirs?
And Mercy answered shrilly, Who cares?
I dont know! the captain said through clenched teeth. Either side. Both. Neither one has any way of knowing who were flying for, and its too dark to see our civvy designation.
Cant we shine a light on it or something? Mercy asked.
We dont have those
kinds of lights, the captain said. We left them in Richmond for the next crew flying border territory. But something in the hesitation between the words implied he was still pondering them.
A series of hits, small but more accurate, peppered the undercarriage.
The old man started to cry. His wife clutched him around the shoulders.
The students were out of their seats, and the two crewmen from the back came forward, urging them to sit down.
One of these crewmen held out his hands, standing between the cockpit and the passenger area. He said to the captain, though he was watching the passengers, We have the dual-light torches. If we could hook a few to the hull, we could show our boys were on their side. Get at least one set of shooters off our case.