The big battleplane lanced through the skies over the Atlantic. It was a type used for company marines and had seats for fifty Psychlos with space and lift capacity for tons of weaponry and gear. Jonnie in the pilot’s seat flew easily and relaxed, flying with his left hand, straight on course.
Big as the plane was, they had had trouble keeping it from getting overloaded. It was all secret and would remain so. There would be no leaks. But friends and a small amount of activity attracted attention to them.
Dunneldeen had shown up with five Scots—just happened by that day from their regular run to Scotland. Colonel Ivan, whose total force was about eighty valiant-Red-Army Cossacks, had to be persuaded to leave half of them taking care of the base. Angus, just an hour before departure from t
