“Damn it, Jack!” said the tech climbing into the cabin as the female pilot slumped forward on top of him. Martin, disguised in the overalls of a technician, heaved under the weight of the unconscious woman while the major reached over the top of them and opened the toilet door at the back of the small space. In it was the already unconscious body of Captain Kellar, and the major helped the straining Dr. Martin to heft the limp body of Captain Falster into the small space with her sleeping colleague. They would attend to the two pilots in good time, but for now, they had to get seated and get this bird airborne.

Martin hastily climbed the rest of the way into the cabin and stripped off his overalls, revealing a flight-suit underneath. Stuffing the overalls in with the two sleeping airmen, he climbed into the unoccupied seat next to the major, where even now the man was performing the final flight prep.

As Jack worked diligently and expertly to prep the plane, he filled Martin in on what was about to happen, “OK, Doc, get your helmet on. In a moment, a ground commander is going to poke his head through that hatch and confirm we are flight ready. Do not turn around, just sit there and move your arms a little, like you are getting the plane ready. From where he’ll be looking from, he won’t be able to see much of you anyway, just the back of your shoulder. When he says, ‘are we a go?’ you just stick your thumb out like this. Once he gets the OK from us, he’s going to order the hatch sealed and we’ll begin our taxi.

“If we can get to the runway, we are pretty much home free. There is pretty much nothing they can do to us once we are airborne as they won’t be able to see us. After all, that is basically the idea of this beauty.”

Martin was about to make a remark about how taking off was the least of their worries when they heard clanks on the hatchway ladder as the ground commander climbed up. Jack and he exchanged a few words over the growing roar of the engines and Martin heard the shouted question, “Are we a go?”

He gave his best Top Gun thumbs-up, reviving some remembered pilot stereotype, and then the man was gone and the hatch was being sealed. Though he would not admit it, a part of him had hoped they would be caught. Deep down he knew that he was probably going to die tonight, or, if he was lucky, spend the rest of his life in a military jail. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe just cutting straight to the military jail bit might have been preferable.