Flying the Storm

29.





Didgori

The Iolaire landed a hundred metres or so short of the raiders, near a dusty track across a high meadow. The village of Didgori was a distance back down the road and the track continued on past the raiders, disappearing from sight as it reached the top of the rounded ridge ahead. A few clouds passed low overhead from the west.

Aiden checked the watch Solomon had given him. 14:55.

Fredrick had put the aircraft down at an angle to the raiders, with the cockpit pointing slightly downhill. He spun the engines down and went through the stop procedure, then turned to look at Aiden.

“I suppose it’s time, then,” he said.

Aiden nodded vaguely. His mind was still racing, thinking through every possible angle; every possible way to get out of this. But nothing seemed to work. This was the only way.

They clambered out of the seldom-used front hatch, Aiden first, and dropped down the last metre or so to the long grass. The entire meadow and the hills beyond seemed covered in yellow flowers. The wind was cool and damp. Aiden thought it might rain.

He could see the group of bandits watching them expectantly from around their two big trucks. Prosper was there too, but Aiden couldn’t see Ileana. She could still have been in one of the vehicles.

The pair started walking towards them, not particularly quickly. Aiden checked his watch again. 14:58.

One of the wiry men slung his rifle and went to the nearest truck, dragging a struggling Ileana out. She was still gagged, her wrists and ankles still bound. The bandit dumped her at Prosper’s side. The little silver pistol came out, and Aiden felt his jaw tighten at the sight of it.

“Fredrick!” said Prosper, as they drew closer. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Aiden glanced at his friend. He wore a puzzled expression, though he was trying to hide it. He hadn’t experienced Elias Prosper’s manner before.

Behind Prosper stood the bandits, grinning and fidgeting with their weapons. Aiden wondered how much they’d been promised. The price on his and Fredrick’s heads would have been considerable. He couldn’t imagine Prosper actually giving the bandits a penny of it, though. The bastards were being taken for a ride, just as much as Aiden and Fredrick were.

Once he had the pair of them, there was no reason for him to release the girl, either. She’d be given to the bandits to keep them sweet. That much was evident, from their wolfish stares and knowing smirks. Otherwise, they might have been inclined to kick up a costly fuss. It all seemed so clear to Aiden now, as he came before the bounty hunter and his retinue. The girl’s life had probably never been in danger since she was captured. Only her freedom and her innocence were.

And the Iolaire. That would be Prosper’s transport back to Sevastopol. The bandits would insist on a couple of men to go with him. No matter; once they reached the Gilgamesh, a word from Prosper and the marines would put the hillmen down.

He hated the thought of losing the Iolaire. Prosper didn’t deserve it.

Aiden checked his watch again, just short of Prosper and his men. 14:59. His pulse quickened.

Prosper gave an order to three of the bandits, who made forward with their weapons raised to grab the pair.

15:00. Now.

Aiden leapt forward, pinning Ileana to the ground beneath him. He heard Fredrick drop by his side, and the confused shouts of the bandits. There was a cry of terror, as one of them noticed that the Iolaire’s tail gun had turned to face them.

It was hard to say who fired first. The shouts and cries were suddenly drowned out as the air above Aiden filled with sound. It was like a hundred bullwhips all cracking above his head, and the air itself became warm with a mist of blood. He could taste it in his mouth, coppery and hot, as he pressed his face into the grass by Ileana’s head. He felt the dull thuds of bodies falling around him. There was a wash of heat as something ignited in one of the vehicles.

Then the twelve-point-seven stopped. Slowly the sounds of the shredded and dying men filtered through, and Aiden dared to lift his head. He was surrounded by bodies, living and dead, sprawled in the grass. Ileana trembled under him. He rolled off of her.


Fredrick was swearing in Danish. Aiden looked back towards the Iolaire. The ramp was down, and a handful of figures approached across the meadow.

Somebody shot at them, and they responded in kind, firing as they moved. A short yell of pain told Aiden that they had hit their target, and the shooting stopped.

He got up into a crouch. Fredrick and Ileana seemed fine, if a little dazed. That was good. Aiden looked at the bodies in the grass. The men had been ripped to bits by the Iolaire’s gun. Blood and viscera littered the grass. One body twitched lifelessly, the head mostly gone. Prosper was not there.

Aiden lurched around one of the vehicles. It had been pierced right through with the heavy bullets; its steel skin puckered outwards around the exit holes. Elias Prosper was sitting on the ground, propped up against the door. His left arm, from the shoulder down, was gone. A few ragged strips of sleeve and flesh hung lank from the red ruin.

And yet, the right hand raised the little silver pistol towards Aiden.

Aiden reacted without thought, kicking hard. He felt it connect, and the pistol flew from the hand that was only weakly gripping it.

He stood over Prosper, his fists clenched, feeling he should do something. He should kill him. He should club him to death and tear his corpse to pieces. But his fury had left him. The man lying before him was no threat, not any more. He was broken, useless, dying. What would it solve to attack him now?

The man’s piercing blue eyes stared up at Aiden. There was no anger there, no disbelief. Behind them was a great intelligence. An intelligence that was now forced to contemplate its own end. They regarded Aiden without emotion.

“End it, then,” gurgled Prosper.

Aiden hesitated for a moment, and then turned to find the pistol in the grass. He picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy, its top slide inlaid with an intricate, swirling silver pattern. He cocked it, and a round fell out.

Then, without even blinking, he shot Elias Prosper twice in the chest. The body tensed briefly in spasm, and the life went out of the blue eyes. The twin cracks echoed from the hillside, dying amongst the flowers.

Aiden felt nothing.

Strange.

Rifle shots heralded Tovmas’ arrival as he dispatched the wounded bandits. He moved around the end of the truck like the soldier he was. Behind him came Nardos, Solomon and three other men Aiden recognised from Ashtarak. Vika came last, unarmed, looking at the devastation with a hard face.

“Aiden,” said Tovmas, smiling a little. “You got him.”

Aiden said nothing. He was still holding the pistol. It felt good in his hand.

Vika looked at Prosper’s corpse now. “His arm…” she breathed.

“You did well, Nardos,” said Tovmas, patting the young man on the back. “Ashtarak’s top gun!”

He nodded, but his eyes were distant.

On the other side of the vehicles, Fredrick sat by Ileana amidst the carnage. He was cutting the cords around her wrists when Aiden came back. When Ileana saw him, she threw her arms around him and clung to him silently.

They doused the corpses in ‘nol and burned them in a great pyre. The rain arrived, and though it didn’t slow the powerful fire it dampened the grass around it and made certain that the flames wouldn’t spread. After a while, the fuel tank of the nearest truck burst and the fire reared up into the air like a living thing.

Aiden and the others watched from the shelter of the cargo hold. He wondered if the ‘nol would be enough to completely burn the bodies, or if it would just char and cook them. It was hard to imagine, though, that anything could stay intact in a fire so intense. He could feel the heat on his face, even from over a hundred metres away.

The rain pattered on the fuselage of the Iolaire, mingling with the sound of Tovmas and Solomon’s discussions. Solomon was very interested in Tovmas’ plans for a unified Armenia. Tovmas chatted away happily about it, eager to share his dreams.

Nardos, though, sat quietly with the other militiamen. He seemed impatient to be away. Aiden spoke to him briefly, asked him how his sister was. Nardos forced a smile for him, and told him she was fine. Enjoying her freedom again.

Vika and Fredrick sat with Ileana, talking to her, Vika with her arm around her shoulders. They were comforting her, asking where she wanted to go.

On the flight back south to Armenia, they stopped only once. It was the place where Malkasar’s wagon had finally ground to a halt, where Aiden and Ileana had been taken. The wagon had been stripped of everything valuable. The old man’s body was still in its seat, slumped over the steering wheel. Aiden and Solomon carried it into the hold of the Iolaire and covered it with a blanket. Ileana stood by, tears streaming down her face, though she didn’t make a sound. The girl was tough.

In Ashtarak the ramp was lowered again to let the Armenians out. Aiden noticed nobody came to celebrate their return this time. He wondered if he should go and visit Sona, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It was maybe better if she didn’t see him.

At the bottom of the ramp, Tovmas turned to Aiden and Fredrick. “You are sure you do not want to stay? An aircraft like yours would help us greatly.”

Fredrick shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ve already accepted another job offer,” he said.

Tovmas looked at Solomon then, smiling slightly. “Ah yes, I have been told. You must do this then, for the good of us all. I would pray to the dragons for you, but I think that maybe you are dragons.” His eyes flickered up at the tail gun.

Aiden actually smiled at that. He took Tovmas’ outstretched hand and shook it. “Take care, old man,” he said. Then he shook Nardos’ hand, pulling close into a short, manly embrace.

“Good luck, you western dog,” said Nardos. “Get them for us.”

“We’ll try,” replied Aiden. “Tell Sona… Tell her I will see her again.”

“I will, brother.”

Vika was holding her father, saying words that Aiden couldn’t make out. Finally they pulled apart, and she held only his hands.

“You are sure this is what you want?” Tovmas asked her.

“Yes. If it can really be done, then I have to help.”

Her father nodded then, letting her go.

The ramp closed, and Aiden was in his turret again. He watched as Tovmas, Nardos and the others backed off when the engines started. The Iolaire lifted off gently, rising high above the town. He noticed the addition of an autocannon near the landing pad, manned by a couple of militiamen. Ashtarak was learning.

On the eastern edge of town sat the blackened remains of the Sokol and the ruined marine carrier. Aiden wondered what the militia had done with Koikov, if he had survived the fighting.

Soon, as the Iolaire cruised northwards, they were leaving even the gleaming twin peaks of Aragats behind them. Ashtarak was just a smudge in the hazy distance now, fading fast. The ground beneath was becoming hillier as they approached the Georgian border. Aiden thought of the frantic journey north he’d made in the little car, not three days ago. It had taken so long to cover the distance. Now it just slid past, kilometres below, eaten up by the speed of the flight.

“Sly bastard never did pay us,” said Fredrick over the intercom, suddenly. Aiden was shaken from his daydreams.

“True, but Ashtarak took a few hits for us, if we’re honest,” he replied. “And he did come to help us today, for free.”

Fredrick mumbled something inaudible.

“And you did shag his daughter,” added Aiden. He was sure Vika was in the hold, so she wouldn’t hear.


“I suppose I did.”

Aiden could hear Solomon laughing over the other headset. “Sly dog,” he said, as it subsided.

“What is ‘shag’?” came Ileana’s voice suddenly. She must have been standing in the cockpit too, on the spare headset. Solomon’s laughter redoubled. Fredrick joined in.

Then, for the first time since Stepanavan, Aiden laughed. He laughed long and loud, just because it felt good. A tear rolled down his creased cheek.

An awkward explanation was given, a joint effort by Fredrick and Aiden, all the while underpinned by Solomon’s giggling.

After it seemed like she understood, she said, “But why would he pay you for that?”

Aiden thought he would die laughing.

Soon they reached Tbilisi, and Fredrick brought the Iolaire down. Teimuraz himself greeted them on the tarmac, sweating as usual in the humid weather. Where Armenia had been a dry heat, Georgia’s skies were dark with rain clouds and the closeness was oppressive.

“You survived, I see!” he announced, looking alternately at them and the weather above. “Come inside, I fear it is about to rain!”

Ileana seemed reluctant to leave the Iolaire and her father’s body. When the thunder started overhead she came along with Aiden, who had waited for her by the foot of the ramp.

They made it inside just as the first fat drops began to fall, and by the time they had reached Teimuraz’ office several floors up, the rain was torrential. It fell straight down in curtains past the office window, obscuring the distant end of the airport in wet fuzz.

“Well, it’s about time we had some rain, I suppose,” said Teimuraz, gazing morosely out. “It does make everything around here just a little bit more difficult, though.” He looked up at a freighter coming in to land vertically. Bright lights guided it down to the tarmac; shining beacons in the grey.

Teimuraz turned to the room then. He smiled warmly. “You must be Ileana, my dear,” he said, coming forward. “I am Teimuraz.”

She nodded, and shook his outstretched hand. She tried to smile, but it faltered. Aiden put a hand on her shoulder then. It must have all been terrifying for her; surrounded by strangers, her father gone.

“We have to contact her brother,” said Aiden. “He runs a freight ship to Poti. Ileana and her father were on their way to meet him.”

“So he is in Poti?” asked Teimuraz.

“He might be.” Aiden looked at Ileana. She nodded.

“Then I will contact the Poti harbour authority, and get a message to your brother. What is his name?”

“Marius. Marius Capraru,” she said. “His ship is the Cristina.”

Teimuraz nodded and flipped open a monitor on his desk. He pressed a key and said something in Georgian, repeating the name of the ship and passing the instructions on to somebody else. Then he closed the monitor over.

“We shall hear soon enough if your brother is there.”

Ileana nodded, and Aiden squeezed her shoulder.