Courage

Courage

The year was 2039, and the Australian revolt was well underway.

         The acrid stench of diesel fuel filled the still afternoon air, hanging heavy from the freshly primed injectors of a row of growling-green engines. The huge pumps were straining furiously, their tasks immense, turbochargers screaming. There were five of them, and now, the ancient river flowed unnaturally backwards towards their massive intakes.

         The main channel, leading away from the pumps, was wide enough to park an airliner and deep enough to swallow ten broken cars stacked up. Dark clouds gathered over the giant ditch where it disappeared around a bend, flowing urgently towards vast export-storage lakes.

         Lightning crackled—flashing brightly. There was a storm brewing. A lethal, sinister storm. Far more dangerous than the one thundering over the man-made channel.

         Captain Jun Canshen, of the People’s Liberation Army of China, banked the hurtling Changhe Z-10-K attack helicopter towards the east, putting the scorching setting-sun behind him. His gloved fingers hit the Electronic Warfare System switch and felt a reduction in vibration and noise. The 95KT foamed-composite rotor blades feathered, with computer-controlled exactness, cutting the rotor-noise by half. Now, his quiet helicopter was invisible to radar and infra-red detection systems.

         A ghost: an electronically masked, deadly, menacing ghost.

         The Gunner Override switch made a sharp click as he flicked it to ‘ON’. There was no way he was going to allow his gunner to take these shots: this was personal. He’d assured his commander that he could destroy the last two Australian tanks, without utilising the entire squadron, and now it was time to make good on that promise.

         The first AGM-214 Hellfire Missile beeped at him rhythmically. He could see it flashing and glowing orange in his heads-up display.

         No missile lock yet.

         He couldn’t recall if it was the shipping of fresh water to China, or the appointment of the new Chinese non-elected Prime Minister that started the rebellion. He didn’t really care. The Australians were just like the Americans. Fifty years ago, they started selling their farms, mines, water rights, utilities, ports, airports, and just about everything else, to China. Now, they wanted it all back—for free. And of course, China, the mightiest superpower the world had ever seen, had a right to protect her global assets and her interests.

         He only caught a fleeting glimpse of the youths, with a rocket-propelled-grenade launcher, but it was enough. He pulled back on the stick and his bird climbed vertically, bleeding off airspeed fast.

         He spun the helicopter around; the youth angled his head and took aim.

         The luminous crosshairs of Canshen’s helmet mounted display settled on the boy’s chest and he pressed the trigger button. A short burst was enough. The 25mm chain-gun bullets almost cut the kid in half, and he fell to the ground dropping the grenade launcher.

         The girl with the youth was unharmed, and she dropped to her knees beside him, shaking his mangled body, willing him back to life.

         Canshen was about to turn and continue his interrupted mission when he saw her pick up the fallen boy’s M4 assault rifle. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen at the most. The same age as his own daughter. His thumb hovered above the fire button, as he watched her shoulder and aim the rifle that was too heavy for her.

         What kind of a war is this? he thought. Are child-soldiers all that’s left of the militia?

         She was now aiming the weapon at him, her hands shaky, wobbling all over the place: unbelievable. Bullets poured from her gun, peppering the 38mm armoured glass in front of his face. He smiled as he watched her struggle to reload the empty firearm, its barrel smoking, her shoulders and chest heaving.

         She’s got guts, he thought.

         Surely, she knew that her next breath could be her last, yet she fought on regardless with everything she had. She managed to get the fresh magazine inserted and with a deep breath, she emptied it at his helicopter’s rotor housing. Of course, this was also armoured and deflected the stream of bullets without damage.

         Alarms sounded urgently in his ears and filled the cockpit. Red letters flashed in front of his eyes: INCOMING MISSILES. He accelerated instantly, banking left and right. The physical countermeasures deployed behind him automatically, exploding like fireworks. He turned sharply to the left, directing his engine’s heat-plume away from the incoming missiles.

         He was furious with himself. The shooting had attracted the attention of the two tanks; he’d allowed himself to become the hunted.

         The missiles hit the countermeasures. Still, he felt the searing heat through his windshield, and the whole helicopter shuddered from the shockwaves and spun on its axis. He fought for control, gritting his teeth against the bone crunching vibrations of the machine. Heel and toe, a twist of the throttle and repeated flicks of his wrists. He let his breath out with a rush as the machine settled.

         Lucky.

         He wheeled the helicopter around to face his enemies and he saw the girl again. This time she was on one knee, and she was aiming the rocket-propelled-grenade at him.

         He heard dull thuds behind his head. His gunner was smashing at the armoured glass panel that separated them.

         “Shoot!” Yelled the gunner into his headset. “Kill the bitch!”

         He willed his thumb to press the trigger, but his thumb would not respond.

         The girl was too close. She was near enough for him to see the shiny tear tracks on her grubby face; the torn rags she wore as clothes fluttered in the gentle breeze. If she fired, she would die as well.

          White smoke belched from the back of the launcher and the recoil of the weapon knocked her flat on her back. Just for an instant he saw a blinding, white flash of light and felt a scorching heat, and he knew that this battle would be finished in hell.