Terraplane by Jack Womack

here."

    They showed through the window. Minutes distant, gliding like
barracudas through water, two fighters broke the cloud's turbulent
bed. As they banked towards us, into direct sunlight, blinding
flares of light reflected off their silver fins.
    "What's topspeed?" asked Jake.
    "Mach three, it would seem," she said.
    "Theirs?"
    "Newest models," she sighed. "Mach twelve." Fresh bursts of
static broke our troubled peace. Oktobriana gave close ear and
frowned. "Our immediate return would please them," she said.
"Otherwise we receive immediate attack."
    "We land, we lose existence," I said. "Fly on."
    "Isn't your friend theirs as well?" Jake asked, following
Oktobriana's lead as she played the board's buttons.
    "Not since our hands took hold. By his capture he forfeits
privilege. To keep him would serve their use no further."
    Our plane wobbled when theirs roared past, one over, one
under, coasting by at some two hundred meters' distance. There'd
come another pass; if no answer drew by then we'd be plucked like
ripe apples.
    Jake reached boardways, to defend. "Let's send our regrets."
    "We haven't range for high-altitude interaction," I said. "Those
dillies are latetech. They could shoot the moon from the sky. It's a
no-go. "
    "We've something they haven't," said Jake; we looked at
Oktobriana. The planes swung left and onrushed in their penultimate display before mating. Whether Alekhine had entered a more
problematic situation than ours seemed questionable. Oktobriana
read us clear.
    "You don't know!" she said, trying to ignore our stare. "Is dangerous and unpredictable. No one should use it."
    "Transferral device," I said. "Your boss used it."
    "Nor should he have," she said; I uncased the thing from its box.
"We cannot-"

    "Three minutes more and we'll be cloud and vapor," said Jake,
throttling full. "That's desired?"
    "You don't understand-"
    Leaving the cockpit, taking up my coat from where I'd left it, I
unpocketed my cam. "By transferral device I infer we go from here
to elsewhere, true?"
    "Luther-!" Oktobriana rose, and followed.
    "Still bound for America?" Skuratov laughed, seeing us. "I fear
we will not get so far as that. I feel shock of passing planes. Accept
fate, Luther. We are dust now, nothing more."
    "Not quite," I said; the cassette inslotted easily. Skuratov's
grin faded as he realized my intent, and he drew tightlipped.
Oktobriana continued unavailing attempts to wrestle the cam
from me.
    "You do not know situation-"
    "I know this situation," I said. "How's it work? Tell me-"
    "No," she said. "I can't. Luther-"
    "Will they transfer too?"
    "No. All contained within surrounding closed environment
transfer. No one else. But we cannot-"
    "There's no choice, Oktobriana," I said. Our pursuers roared
past again, drawing nearer on repeat run so that the currents
thrown might send us spinning. I heard them sail off across the sky,
unable to see their turn when they chose to reapproach, enroute to
take us out. "I wish there were. Tell me what to do."
    For the longest second she stared at me, her eyes nearly throwing
out sparks. "Very well," she said, sans tone, wordchoice deliberate.
"If there is no choice then I have none either. Is very simple-"
    "Luther," Jake said, his voice no more full of fright than ever; it
was softer, as if such fate were ultimately preferred. "They're
readying. "
    "So what do I do-"
    "Press rewind," she said. "Nothing more."
    "Where are we transferring?" I asked; afterthought.
    "It will not be as seems-"
    "Incoming!!" Jake screamed.
    As if thumbed shut by angels my eyes closed when I hit rewind. Our plane shuddered as though windsheared; through my lids' skin
I discerned the cabin disappearing within blinding white light, and
in my mind I vizzed oblivion's paint covering us over. Fearing I'd
moved too late, I nonetheless crushed my sobs away, refusing to
leave life with wet eye. After splintering into uncounted burning
fragments, the explosion blasting