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Time seemed to slow. The silver piece rolled into blue magnetic rails and vanished with a sonic boom.
The coin, accelerated to several times the speed of sound, slammed into the jet’s midsection, right through the fuel tank.
A clean hole was ripped straight through it.
Crystal-clear fuel spilled down the fuselage, pouring into the belly of the chamber.
Watching the fuel gauge plummet, Falling Feather’s eyes lit up.
“It worked! Hold on, don’t ignite it yet. Let it leak for a bit first!”
There wasn’t much left in the tank, maybe a hundred liters or so, but it was enough.
Seeing the fuel gauge finally stop dropping, Falling Feather reached under his seat, pulled a signal flare gun from the emergency kit, aimed at the pool of fuel beneath the nose of the plane, and squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
A crimson flare shot from the barrel and struck the puddle dead-center.
With a blinding flash of red light, the fuel, mixed with the black viscous fluid, ignited in an instant, bursting into a spreading...
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