Stanislaus was only an inch shorter than Killer Shark and, with padding, the Nazi general's flight suit didn't look too bad on him. Besides, the shark fin crest on the helmet would keep anyone from questioning him. The helmet's tinted visors concealed their faces from prying eyes. While he, Blackhawk, and the two German pilots suited up, Blackhawk spoke to Hendrickson, Olaf and Andre.

"Blow this place up as soon as we've taken off. There must be some big fuel tanks in here someplace. A few charges on them should make a nice bang. Get the slave laborers out first if you can. I imagine they take fire alarms very seriously in a place like this, but even if you can't get them out, it has to be destroyed. The Nazis will rebuild it, of course, but the delay ought to give the Allies time to build their own rocket bombers, once we've delivered a sample. And don't be late for the rendezvous with the Hawksub, or Chuck and Chop Chop will give you hell." They all chuckled at the small joke.

When the clock struck eleven, the German pilots indicated it was time to go. Once they had surrendered to the Blackhawks, they had given up any idea of resistance and had cooperated completely, if not happily. The five Blackhawks, sharing a comradeship forged in six long years of constant battle, shook hands all around. Left unspoken was the acknowledgement that they might never see each other again.

As Blackhawk stepped to the door, Hendrickson stopped him. "Blackhawk, let me cut Killer Shark's throat. I can make sure he will never hurt anyone again."

Blackhawk placed his hand on Hendy's shoulder. "I understand how you feel, old friend. But no, we don't need to dirty our hands with murder. If he doesn't die when you blow this place, he will when Hitler discovers the magnitude of his failure. I think I prefer the latter."

The four pilots, anonymous behind their tinted visors, marched out a private tunnel to the waiting rockets. Blackhawk and Stan kept their Colt's concealed but the two Nazi pilots knew they were covered at all times. At the transporter, they climbed ladders to reach small hatches in the base of each ship. Before they split up, Blackhawk shook Stan's hand. "Good luck. Have a safe landing." Their plan called for Stanislaus to land the carrier rocket at a B-29 base in Scotland.

Blackhawk and the Luftwaffe captain climbed a narrow ladder in a cramped tube up the length of the rocket bomber to its nose. The cockpit was cramped, too, and it was a struggle to get into the reclining couches. Blackhawk strapped in. He said to the pilot, "Is there anything we need to do to prepare for take-off?"

"No, everything is automatic. And our ship is just along for the ride for the first part of the trip, anyway. The carrier will fire first."

"Okay," Blackhawk said. "I'm going to get tired of calling 'hey you'. What's your name?"

"Dietrich, Dietrich Mueller. What's your name?" he asked automatically.

"Blackhawk is the only name I have, now."

"Oh."

They sat in silence, watching the second hand of the clock on the control panel move in precise jumps. Finally, all the hands of the clock pointed straight up. A deep rumble shook the craft, then it got louder and louder. The two ships lifted off the platform, slowly at first, then accelerating. The whole assemblage vibrated so much, it felt like it must fly into a million pieces any second. They sank into the cushions of their couches as the weight of four, then five men pulled them down.

After what seemed like hours but was only two minutes, the carrier rocket's engines cut out and complete silence surrounded them. The air outside was far too tenuous to transmit any sound. A few seconds later, the sharp snap of explosive bolts firing broke the silence. Small, solid fuel rockets pushed the carrier ship away from the bomber. Then the bomber's robot pilot ignited its engines. Once again Blackhawk and Mueller were smashed into their couches by acceleration. The engines cut off and they floated up against their safety harnesses. Blackhawk had felt weightlessness before, for a few seconds as his plane reached the top of a loop, but this was different. He kept expecting gravity to reassert its domination, but the incredible sensation, thrilling and a bit frightening at the same time, remained.

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