The Feminist Queendom Charlie’s War 31

©Beverly Taff,

List of Characters.

Charlie Sage Maths and electronics genius.
Shirley Sage Charlies elderly mother
Chloe Charlie’s one time early school friend.
Josephine Flint Surgeon and associate of Chloe’s.
Mrs Jane Anston Director of Anston Aerospace.
Ronnie Garage mechanic at top of lane
Pauline Garage owner, Ronnie’s sister.
Briony Pauline’s teenaged daughter.
Billy Pauline’s middle son.
Abigail (Abby) Pauline’s youngest daughter.
‘Poppy’ Charlie’s little micro-runabout.
‘Doris’ The armoured mobile home.
‘Lady’ Chloe’s Sports Car.
Dawn Charlie’s armoured spaceship.
Colonel Wilson Vindictive misanthropist doctor.

Chapter 31.

“A plan?” Charlie queried. “Go on.”

“How strong is this ship?”

“She’s virtually a flying tank. Her skin is ten to fifteen centimetres of steel. It would take an antitank missile to penetrate her skin. An air-to-air missile would never cut it, they’re designed to knock down thin-skinned jets and stuff. Besides, she can out accelerate and out-manoeuvre a missile.”

“Really?!”

“Really!” Charlie confirmed. “I’ve always anticipated being attacked at some time so I made her as tough as I could.”

“How big is that Skeg thing you use to plough a furrow.”

“It’s about nine metres long.”

“Does it have some sort of plough-share on the end?”

“Yes. There’s a sharp blade that pierces the ground and makes a furrow.”

“Could it pierce an aircraft fuselage skin.”

Charlie stared at her as his mind moved ahead.

“Yes, easily. The fuselage of that plane is just an aluminium alloy. Are you suggesting we somehow hook onto that plane and tow it back to Australia?”

“Could you, do it?”

“Not at the altitude she’s flying. She’s at ten thousand metres, the plane would decompress the moment you pierced the fuselage, and you’d kill the occupants. It would be a very sudden decompression and almost certainly kill my kids.”

“What about at a lower altitude; say when she’s landing?”

Charlie frowned uncertainly.

“The impact of the hook could knock the plane out of balance and send her into the ground or the sea without time to recover.”

“What do you think?”

“It could not be done on the ground, the plough-share would simply rip out of the section of skin. The plane needs to be flying so there is no effective deadweight on the skeg. If we can plunge the skeg through the fuselage while the plane is at about three thousand metres, then accelerate forward so that the plough-share snags under the main wing spar we should be able to effectively tow the plane back to Aussie.

If we tow it at the same speed, it does normally then we should take about six hours to haul it back to Australia. We’d have to hook on just as she starts her decent down to Diego Garcia at about three or four thousand metres.”

“Diego’s a major military base. What happens if they send pursuit planes?” She asked.

“There’s not much we can do save accelerate to about eight hundred knots.”

“Their fighters can go faster than that.”

“Yes, but not for long and not at the lower altitudes. They need afterburners to go faster. If we latch on at about two hundred miles out then turn around for Oz, it will be fully thirty minutes before they are able to reach us, more probably an hour if we increase our speed. Once we’re five hundred miles from Diego, they won’t have the endurance to pursue us. Especially if we up to six or seven hundred knots.

And of course, they’ll have hell’s own delight trying to shoot Dawn down. As I said, she’s an armoured, supersonic tank even at sea-level!”

“What if they shoot into the jet and injure your children.”

“That’s wholly self-defeating, they’ll have no bargaining chips, and they’ll simply give me a legitimate excuse to go hunting for bear. They’re the ones who’ve broken the law, kidnapping Australian children from Australia!? Come o-on! That could be construed as an act of war.”

“Would you seriously go to war?”

“Yes.” Replied Charlie with a finality that sent a shudder down the police officer’s spine.

‘I believe he would,’ she told herself.

ooo000ooo

For the next two hours Charlie kept Dawn directly behind the rogue jet as it flew a direct great circle to Diego Garcia then, as they approached to within three hundred miles of the mid ocean atoll, the plane commenced its descent towards the military base. By this time after an hour of casual chat, Charlie had learned that the officer’s name was Margaret, and they were now on first name terms.

“For now, we just plod along just a few metres above and behind their jet where they can’t see us, and Diego Garcia’s radars cannot separate our radar blips. When they descend to three thousand metres, we position ourselves precisely over their plane then drop like a falcon and plunge our skeg through the centre-line of their fuselage immediately behind the wing then accelerate forward until the plough-share lodges under their main wing spar.”

“That still sounds dangerous,” Margaret opined, “I can’t believe I thought of it.”

“It is dangerous; - bloody dangerous, but I can’t see any other option if we’re to get my children safely back to Oz. We cannot pursue their plane into Diego Garcia airspace cos that Island is a United Queendom military base, and the fighters could swarm us in minutes. We need to be at least two hundred miles away when we hook into their plane.

That gets us out of range before they can respond. If they do find us, I just accelerate Dawn to seven or even eight hundred knots and they will have to use afterburners to catch us.

Whatever we do, we must keep the plane attached to our skeg by driving forward to provide lift from her wings. Even if her engines are dead. The good news is that if we hook under the main spar, we’ve got the plane balanced near her centre of gravity and the tow will be stable.”

To demonstrate the plan, Charlie drew a sketch of the skeg protruding from Dawn’s underbelly. Then he illustrated how and where he intended to plunge the skeg into and through the fuselage just behind the wing, then rake it forward to hook under the main spar.

Margaret the police officer readily understood the plan and Charlie took her to the sighting port where she could visually guide the skeg into the plane’s fuselage.

“If I do it with sufficient force, the skeg will drive right through the fuselage like a knife through butter. If you want to make yourself really useful, you can open the viewing port inwards and put a couple of bullets into the plane’s engines. Then they cannot use their engines to try and slip off the hook.”

The police officer familiarised herself with the observation position and grinned.

Eventually the plane started its approach descent and Charlie warned Margaret.

“This is it, get into your position please, I’m lowering the skeg.”

She settled into the observation space and watched fascinated as the seven-metre long skeg extended out and down. The ‘plough-share’ blade reminded Margaret of the lower talon of an eagle’s claw as it stopped and locked while Charlie manoeuvred both ship and claw directly over the tailfin.

“What’s it looking like?” Charlie asked Margaret.

“You’re directly over the tailfin so you will need to go forward about fifteen metres to align with the rear of the wing. Then you need to drop about three metres to touch the fuselage.”

“Thanks Marge. Just keep me informed okay.”

Margaret had already started measuring off the distances.

“You’re ten metres from the wing, eight metres, six metres, four, two, one, you’re in position. Now start to drop!”

Margaret’s belly did a flip as the Dawn dropped like a stone and the ‘talon-like, plough-share sliced through the top of the fuselage then plunged through the body of the aircraft to erupt out of the bottom.

“You’re through!” Margret shouted. “Now you need to do the ripping to connect with the main spar.”

Margaret had hardly finished speaking before she felt the tremendous acceleration as Dawn surged forward and embedded her skeg blade into the back of the main spar. The jet was well and truly hooked like a fish on a line.

“You’ve got it!” Margaret squealed. “Let’s turn for home. D’you want me to shoot the engines?”

“No, let’s wait and see. If she keeps using her engines but cannot escape the hook, I can play her like a fish on a line. Just watch the skeg it as I turn for home then increase the speed slowly.”

Margaret twisted to get more comfortable then watched the skeg where it had entered the fuselage.

“It’s holding firm!” She called to Charlie, “what speed are we doing?”

“We’re on course for Australia and doing five hundred knots. Keep checking, I’m upping to six hundred.”

ooo000ooo

Margaret kept her eyes locked on the view through the inspection port and noted that the plane’s engines were still whining away at top speed. She felt a thrill of relief that the plane could not escape from the ploughshare point and that she was able to be a part in the recovery of the children. She gave Charlie her situation report.

“The skeg has not moved. There is a small scrape or red paint deposited on the skeg and it has not moved in relation the plane’s hull. The plane’s engines are still running, so they should have power light and heat in the cabin. Have you heard any response on their radio frequency?”

“They’ve put out a mayday call and there’s been a response from Diego Garcia. They’ve despatched a pair of fighters and a special search and rescue plane to try and escort the kidnappers. The fighters might get here but the search and rescue plane is far too slow. So far, I’ve not picked anything up on my normal radar and my ‘look-down’ radar is pretty much useless at this altitude. We’re only at two thousand metres altitude.”

“Will the fighters reach us?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve calculated that they’d have to maintain a thousand knots if they want to reach us within an hour. I’ve still got the option to increase our speed to eight hundred knots without there being any serious friction damage.”

“Why don’t you do it? Increase our speed that is?”

“I am, very slowly. Don’t forget, we’re putting a lot of stress through their airframe. Check if you can see any distortion along the fuselage occasionally.”

“I am, but it’s getting uncomfortable down here and a bit cold. How long before we reach Australia?”

“If I can up the speed to eight hundred, we’ll be back in Hammersley ranges in just about three hours. I’ll switch to automatic pilot and make us a cup of tea, or would you prefer coffee?”

“Coffee please; hot with plenty of milk and sugar and some food would be nice.”

Charlie set about the makings and within five minutes Margaret was savouring her hot, sweet, milky coffee and ham sandwiches.

“Quite the little home from home isn’t she.”

“She’s designed to make passages to Mars at least. I’ve got two months food packed away here and the cupboards are only half full.

“That would be a wind up, if you took them to Mars.” Margaret chuckled.

“Would that I could but their plane is not airtight.”

“Not with bloody great hook in it, no.” Margaret reflected pensively.

As Charlie returned to his command seat to check the console he frowned.

“Looks like we’ve got company. They’re about four hundred miles behind us and doing about a thousand knots.”

Margaret emerged from the viewing space to study the radar display.

“Will they catch us?”

“Not if we up speed to eight hundred immediately. Keep a check on the hook please.”

It irked Margaret slightly to take instructions from a man but she swallowed her self-respect and returned to her uncomfortable hidey-hole.

“No change down here but some of the paint is peeling off the fuselage.”

“That will be the friction, let me know if it starts smoking.”

Margaret felt a noticeable surge, but the hook held firm and no smoke appeared. Then the plane’s engines died.”

“They must have run out of fuel,” Margaret declared, “will that slow us down?”

“No,” Charlie explained, “I’ll just up the power to play ‘catch-up’ and their wings will still provide lift. Don’t worry; so far we’re on schedule.”

Margaret resumed her cramped position in her observation space but noticed she wasn’t so cold.

“It’s the friction on the hull Marge; same thing that’s blistering the airliner’s paint.”

“Will it get much hotter?”

“I don’t know. Dawn’s okay but I’m not sure about the jet liner, her skin’s aluminium.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“Yes. Find some Cumulonimbus and use the rain to damp the airliner down. If we enter the raincloud, the jets won’t find us anyway but -.”

“Go on, there’s always a but with you Charlie.”

“Yes, the turbulence could dislodge the plane off the hook.”
“Jeeze! If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Margaret sighed.

“It should work,” Charlie opined. “Those planes can’t hang around searching for long, they’ll be running short of fuel soon.”

“Let’s hope so,” Margaret added.

“It looks like our prayers might be answered. I’ve just located a line squall right across our path. I can see the clouds and they’re not towering thunderheads, but the radar indicates lots of rain. Here we go.”

Margaret looked down and blinked.

“You’re getting awfully low Charlie.”

“Yeah. We’ll pass under the cloud base, cool off in the rain then carry on behind the clouds. Going close to the water also messes with their radars as the ‘sea-clutter’ throws up interference.

“How much further do we have to go?”

“B’ out fifteen hundred miles. Or two hours in space-ship speak.”

“Will they catch us.”

“I doubt it, they’re already getting desperate, they’ve just fired an air to air missile.”

“A missile!” Margaret almost screeched.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve just entered the rain and we’re only one metre above the sea; well, the jet is one metre above the sea. She’ll be lost in the clutter without a heat profile and if it picks us up, well Dawn can take a pretty hard knock. She’s got a ten centimetre thick steel skin.”

Margaret’s stomach churned with fear.

ooo000ooo