The Suicide Exhibition: The Never War (Never War 1) by Justin Richards

cloud. It had to be another plane.
    Sarah dipped the nose of the Anson, losing height. Until she could see what was above her she was going to assume the worst. Friendly aircraft tended not to come at you rapidly out of the sun.
    Very
rapidly. The Anson was hardly the fastest of aircraft, but the dark shape kept pace, matching every turn as Sarah pulled out of the dive and looped round. All the time she tried to make out what was following her so closely.
    Nose up now – a rapid climb. For a moment she seemed to throw the pursuer. Caught a glimpse of the dark shape. It didn’t look like a plane at all – stubby, almost a disc. Prehensile fins erupted from the back section. Light shone out from beneath.
    Then, in a blur, it was behind her again. Sarah twisted and turned the plane, feeling the fuselage judder under the strain, hearing the metal creak. The two 350-hp Armstrong engines roared in protest.
    She pulled out of a steep turn and climbed into a loop. Somehow she was behind the other aircraft. Its shape was still indistinct. All she could see was a black silhouette like the stern of a warship. Hard and brutal rather than elegant and aerodynamic.
    If the plane had been armed, she’d have had a perfect shot. But even when the planes Sarah flew had guns fitted, there was never any ammunition. Her role was strictly – and forcibly – non-combat.
    The dark shape in front wouldn’t know that though, so she pressed home the ‘attack’. She’d heard that a pilot had rammed his unarmed training Anson into an enemy Heinkel bomber over Gloucestershire last year – destroying both planes. For an insane moment, she considered the same manoeuvre. But then, suddenly, the ‘target’ was gone.
    Sarah was flying into a blaze of light that streaked away from her, carrying the dark aircraft with it and disappearinginto the distance. In seconds, Sarah was alone again, with the sky to herself.
    If the plane had been fitted with a radio, she’d have been screaming into it by now. As it was, Sarah was talking to herself. Her American accent was more pronounced when she was angry. ‘Someone down there had better have a bloody good explanation for what just happened.’
    Pauline Gower, head of the female branch of the Air Transport Auxiliary, was quite severe-looking, until she smiled. She wasn’t smiling now.
    ‘What have you got yourself into this time?’ she asked.
    Sarah Diamond was sitting in the common room of the ATA Women’s Section at their base not far from Maidenhead. A cup of tea sat cooling on the table in front of her.
    ‘I haven’t gotten myself into anything.’
    Gower sat down opposite, staring intently at Sarah. They contrasted almost perfectly. Gower was dark-haired with a roundish face, whereas Sarah was blonde and thin-featured. Gower was organised, ambitious, determined. Sarah was certainly determined, but she was impulsive and lived in the moment.
    Both of them were passionate about aircraft, though. Both were women who had made their way in a very male world. Both of them knew nothing more exhilarating than flying, and each secretly imagined they would die doing it.
    ‘So why do I have a colonel no less phoning to tell me you’re confined to barracks?’
    ‘We don’t have barracks,’ Sarah pointed out.
    ‘I did mention that. I don’t think he was amused. Anyway, you’re grounded until someone from London talks to you.’
    ‘What about?’
    ‘You tell me. Or actually, don’t,’ Gower added waving her hand. ‘I don’t want to know. Colonel Brinkman said that until his people get here you’re not to talk to anyone. So he obviously doesn’t know you.’
    Now she did smile, and Gower’s whole face changed. Thecares of the world seemed to melt from it, and Sarah imagined this was how she looked when she was alone in the sky.
    ‘You’re off for a few days, aren’t you?’ She knew full well this was true. Gower knew every detail about her girls and their roster.
    ‘I was about to drive