Lion, Tiger, Bear | 411 What goddam catastrophe do we have now? asked Bernie as they came back to the cockpit. He plotted a new course. Come to course 1-1-2 degrees southeast. Its 4352 kilometers to Midway. Thats around twenty hours flight time at 212 kph if we can maintain it. He went to the radio and relayed their ETA for Corral Six. Alice made notes over the course of ten minutes. Our current rate of descent is one meter every two minutes. Altitude now 8295. Geer passed out rations and water. Keep your energy levels up. Theres plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables in the refrigerator units. We must have picked them up somewhere. Gwafa ate what looked like a purple starfruit. But where? Strange, this tastes like lemon with Kiwano melon. I think I remember rows of fruit trees somewhere… Bea slurped from a coffee cup. Well wherever it was, thank gosh for mint-pea soup. Thats odd, the taste reminds me of sitting on large oriental carpets. Alice tilted the cup and chugged. And tall trees with pearlescent pink birds. Klemperer grabbed Gerlachs shirt and pulled hard. What did you do back there? A Russian plane hit us in the cargo bay. Woozy, he replied: The savages are good for something after all… Klemperer let go. Always loyal to the shitting SS no matter what, eh? Porsche wiped the crusty blood from Gerlachs mouth. Walter, think of our wives and families. Tell me what you did so I can fix it. Fuck you, mechanic. I also locked the small access tunnel to the engine room. The Americans cannot be privy to my non-linear physics and antigravity propulsion. He then smiled in a sinister way. Well all drown for the Fatherland. Just think.. .youll be a hero. Thirty-six hours passed into sunrise. Conversations were at a minimum; everyone ate. Rate of descent has increased, said Alice. Speed is dropping, 146 kph, said Bea. 139 kph. Bernie did some calculations. Were not going to make it. Well be 122 kilometers short. Son of a… He went to the radio station. X Flapjack Five to Mount Weather, Flapjack Five to Mount Weather. Received battle damage, received battle damage. Losing altitude, I repeat, losing altitude. Headed to Davy Jones. Estimate we will ditch 1-3-4 kilometers short of rendezvous on a heading of 1-2-2 degrees, over. Thirty seconds of silence commenced.