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“There!” Holly shouted.
The blast nearly took out Andi’s eardrums. “I can hear you just fine, Holly. It’s called an intercom.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How do we get her down?”
“Without killing Miranda? No idea. All I have are guns and rockets.” And she was totally helpless. She could drop the racing Havoc in a second, well, actually closer to three at this distance.
Until this moment, her main worry had been catching Elayne before she reached the Russian base. The Havoc had a sixteen-kilometer-per-hour speed advantage over her Apache. But Elayne was an inexperienced pilot and Andi had been trained on how to milk every meter per second out of a rotorcraft.
They now had just twenty kilometers to force her down—only a matter of minutes.
Actually, less than that. There were two low ridges
