Science fiction; Space and time -- Fiction; Time travel -- Fiction
"You say Kaydessa is leading the Reds south; we have but your word for
that," Menlik replied. "Though how it would profit you to lie on such a
matter--" He shrugged. "If you do speak the truth, then the 'copter will
circle about the foothills where they entered."
"And what would bring the pilot nosing farther in?" the Apache asked.
Menlik shrugged again. "Any manner of things. The Reds have never
ventured too far south; they are suspicious of the heights--with good
cause." His fingers, near the hilt of his tulwar, twitched. "Anything
which might suggest that their party is in difficulty would bring them
in for a closer look--"
"Say a fire, with much smoke?" Jil-Lee suggested.
Menlik spoke over his shoulder to his own party. There was a babble of
answer, two or three of the men raising their voices above those of
their companions.
"If set in the right direction, yes," the shaman conceded. "When do you
plan to move, Apaches?"
"At once!"
But they did not have wings, and the cross-country march they had to
make was a rough journey on foot. Travis' "at once" stretched into night
hours filled with scrambling over rocks, and an early morning of
preparations, with always the threat that the helicopter might not
return to fly its circling mission over the scene of operations. All
they had was Menlik's assurance that while any party of the Red
overlords was away from their well-defended base, the flyer did just
that.
"Might be relaying messages on from a walkie-talkie or something like
that," Buck commented.
"They should reach our ship in two days ... three at the most ... if
they are pushing," Travis said thoughtfully. "It would be a help--if
that flyer is a link in any com unit--to destroy it before its crew
picks up and relays any report of what happens back there."
Jil-Lee grunted. He was surveying the heights above the pocket in which
Menlik and two of the Mongols were piling brush. "There ... there ...
and there...." The Apache's chin made three juts. "If the pilot swoops
for a quick look, our cross fire will take out his blades."
They held a last conference with Menlik and then climbed to the perches
Jil-Lee had selected. Sentries on lookout reported by mirror flash that
Tsoay, Deklay, Lupe, and Nolan were now on the move to join the other
three Apaches. If and when Manulito's trap closed its jaws on the Reds
at the western ship, the news would pass and the Apaches would move out
to storm the enemy fort on the prairie. And should they blast any caller
the helicopter might carry, Menlik and his riders would accompany them.
There it was, just as Menlik had foretold: The wasp from the open
country was flying into the hills. Menlik, on his knees, struck flint to
steel, sparking the fire they hoped would draw the pilot to a closer
investigation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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