\chapter{2}

It didn't take six,
not even four minutes to reach the lonely municipal airport.
Actually it didn't even deserve that name.
The badly paved runway was only a little more than a gravel road on which Andrew could only imagine flying a kite,
and would definitely not dare an airplane,
and the building that called itself a tower was no more than a plywood box on stilts.
In the single Hangar (a rusty corrugated sheet metal building) in which Andrew had never seen any other plane than the four-seated Cessna that belonged to his dad's company; and if he thought about it,
he had never seen any other plane at that \textit{airport}.
Sometimes he thought that it was his own personal airport that didn't have any other license other than the one or two times a year Nick took him on vacation and back.

But since he knew how Nick answered questions that he didn't want to answer,
he just didn't even ask.

The red and white striped barrier that blocked off the driveway to the airport lifted,
and Nick,
instead of driving to the 'tower' to go over the formalities,
drove right to the hangar,
where the blue and white painted Cessna with the company logo on the side waited for them.
Andrew wanted to get out,
but Nick signaled for him to stay seated.
Nick jumped out of the truck,
grabbing his sweater.
Andrews eyes got big when they saw the chromed pistol that appeared in Nicks hand.

Quickly,
but thoroughly,
he searched the entire hangar.
Looking relieved when he came back,
he motioned for Andrew to get out.
He wasn't as relieved as Andrew would have liked.

``So much for everything being normal.'' Andrew said sarcastically.


As a  reply Nick made an angry gesture.
``Come on.'' 

Andrew didn't move,
just slung his backpack over his shoulder.
``Don't you think its time to pour me some wine?'' He asked.
``What's going on?''

``Later.'' Answered Nick,
his eyes wandering around the room.
If it hadn't been a grotesque notion,
Andrew could have sworn that Nick look scared.
``There were a few … threats.
I'll tell you everything once we're at 1000m,
but please just get on the plane.''

There was something in his voice that made Andrew realize how serious the situation was.
He took another quick,
but similarly nervous look around the room,
hurried to the plane and opened the door on the right side.
He threw his bag on the back bench and,
out of the same motion,
swung himself into the copilots seat.
In the last moment,
he realized that he should have noticed something.
Actually,
he did notice it,
because the sound his backpack made on the back seat sounded more like a grunt made up of half pain,
half anger; not like the sound that a backpack full of clothes and books usually makes  when it hits a lifeless bench.
Still -- as if he were unable to stop his flow -- he kept swinging and didn't understand what was going on until after he had sat down and a strong arm had wrapped around his neck,
pulling his head back.
Andrew knew that something was definitely wrong when a crippled hand appeared in front of his face,
pressing a razor-sharp blade against his throat.

``Make a sound and you're dead.'' A voice whispered next to his right ear.``Do you understand me?''

Even if Andrew had wanted to respond,
he wouldn't have been able to.
The arm choked him so much that he couldn't make a sound,
and even nodding would have been dangerous because the knife was pressed firmly against his throat,
making a thin,
burning line across his skin.
Just in case,
he didn't respond at all.

His silence must have been a good enough answer for the man with the scarred hand,
because a few moments later,
he loosened his grip enough that Andrew could at least breathe,
and the blade also retracted a bit.
The burning sensation just got worse as† he felt a drop of blood run down his throat.

``Good'' the voice in his ear hissed.``And now smile at your friend out there and ask him to come over here.
Understood?''

This time Andrew nodded.
A part of him wanted to tell him that this guys words were just empty threats.
If he wanted to kidnap Andrew to get money from his dad,
he could go to hell and just cut his throat.
What would a dead hostage do for them?

But that was just the voice of his logic.
It might be right,
but that didn't play any role.
Andrew was just scared.
What he had read about in his beloved Sci-Fi books he now felt for real: He was scared for his life.

And it was not fun at all.

Extremely carefully,
so as not to accidentally cut his throat,
he turned his head and looked for Nick.
His bodyguard,
chauffeur and driving instructor had made a second round around the large,
mostly empty hangar,
and approached the Cessna.
His eyes were still wandering around the large hangar,
and the flashing of his chromed pistol in his hand looked like pure mockery to Andrew.
Nick only looked at Andrew for a second,
continuing to search the hangar for a danger that was awaiting him in the plane.

``Don't even think about being a hero.'' The voice in his ear hissed.``I'm serious.'' Andrew didn't doubt him for a second.
He didn't dare more,
let alone turn around,
but he thought he heard a second person sitting on the bench in the back.
The man with the scarred hand wasn't alone at the delivery truck either.
Nick was right after all,
but that made Andrew less than thrilled.

Nick approached the plane extremely slowly,
reached for the door handle,
and froze mid- movement.
His eyes got big and Andrew could see his jaw muscles tense up.
His pistol flew up with a surprisingly fast and accurate movement,
aiming at the man behind Andrew.

``I wouldn't do that if I were you.'' The man said,
this time so loud that Andrews ears were ringing.
``I do think you would hit me,
but I would still strike.''

To give his words an emphasis,
he put more pressure on Andrews Adam's apple,
causing another drop of blood to run down his throat,
making Andrew clench his jaw to suppress a cry of pain.

Nick stood very still,
and Andrew could see the wheels turning his forehead.
Nick was undoubtedly an excellent marksman,
and Andrew trusted him to hit the person behind him,
even before Scarhand had had any time to realize what was happening,
let alone use his knife to cut Andrews throat.
Maybe Nick would have risked it,
but there were two of them,
and from his position Nick couldn't possibly see if the other man was armed with a knife or even a gun.

``Come on,
get in!'' Scarhand hissed.
``We need to stick to the flight plan!'' Nick hesitated another endless second,
but then he lowered his pistol and stuck out his other hand for the door.
Just as he got in the man behind the pilots seat ripped the gun from Nicks hand.
His eyes lit up,
but Nicks face didn't reveal anything.

``That's better.'' Scarhand said.
``Now close the door and start up this thing.
We don't have all the time in the world.''

Nick followed orders -- at least with the door,
but he didn't even try to start the motor.
``I'm not going to \textit{just start it up}.
We'd have a police helicopter following us within 5 minutes.''

``Then don't \textit{just start it up},
tell the tower the pass-phrase.'' Replied Scarhand.


``I'm not even thinking about it.''

``Don't be silly'' Scarhand sneered.
``If you were that cool,
you wouldn't have gotten in and I would be dead.''

``What hasn't happened yet can still happen.'' Nick answered angrily.

Scarhand sighed and made a short and quick movement with his knife.
This time Andrew could not suppress a cry of pain.

Nick immediately stuck out his hand and turned the ignition switch.
The motor burped twice,
the propeller made half a turn and stopped.

``No tricks!'' Scarhand said.
``Whatever you do will hurt your little friend here more than me.''

Andrew was relieved that Scarhand forwent carving away at Andrews neck to reinforce his point,
but Nick seemed to get the message.
He went to turn the key,
but didn't turn it quite yet.
Instead,
he initialized the first countermeasure.
He turned halfway towards the kidnapper and brought his knee near the emergency radio switch,
whose function Nick had explained to Andrew on his last vacation.
``That wasn't on purpose.
I'm nervous and did something wrong.
Sorry.''

``He's being serious'' Andrew said in an almost desperate tone that he had never known he could create.

Scarhands gaze wandered towards Andrew.
``Shut up.'' He said roughly.
Andrew flinched as if he had been slapped.
``OK'' he said in the most humble and beat manner he could manage.
His small distraction had worked.
Even though he tried to avoid looking in Nicks direction,
he could tell that the subtle gray button was pressed,
which meant that a direct radio link was established with the police.
If what Nick had told him last vacation was true,
there were already a few cops listening in and deciding if it was an emergency or just an accident.

Scarhands attention focused back on Nick.
``You better not make any more mistakes.'' He threatened.
``Lets get going!''

``I need to wait a minute.'' Nick answered nervously.
``If I just start it,
I'll have to take the carburetor apart.'' 

That sounded honest.
It could have been because of the nervousness of his voice,
but Scarhand believed him and waited until Nick turned the key again.
Even now the propeller only moved reluctantly,
and at first the motor made a sound that Andrew didn't like at all.
Then it jumped right into gear and the propeller turned into a blurry shadow at the front of the machine until it seemed almost invisible.
Nick grabbed the yoke and let the Cessna slowly roll out of the hangar.

``I need to talk to the tower.'' Nick said.
``If I don't,
they'll automatically call the police.''

``We don't want to waste the taxpayers money'' Scarhand said spitefully.
``So talk to them and don't forget the pass phrase.
Once we're in the air we won't have anything to lose.''

Nick gave him an angry look,
but still steered the Cessna to the end of the runway and stopped to reach for the corded microphone.

``Ground Control,
Cessna 378MS,
requesting full route clearance.\footnote{http://www.niceairaviation.com/Documents/IFR\_communication.pdf}''

It didn't even take a second for a slightly distorted voice replied: ``Cessna 378MS,
climb in VFR conditions until 3000.
Maintain 5000.
Runway 1,
cleared for
takeoff.
Have a good flight.''

``If the weather plays along.'' Nick replied.
``378MS over and out.''

``And what about the pass phrase?'' Scarhand asked.

``The thing about the weather.'' Nick said.
``Did you really think I would say `And now for the agreed pass phrase'?''

He waited a couple seconds for an answer,
but ended up just shrugging and putting his hands back on the yoke.
The sound of the 310 horsepower engine got louder and the Cessna started to gain speed.
The man with the scarred hand loosened his grip a bit and Andrew used the opportunity to carefully turn his head to look at the man behind Nick.
He was about 30 years old and had such a stereotypical criminal face that it was almost funny.
He probably didn't have much of a choice other than to be a career criminal.
In addition,
he was scared.

The man must have felt Andrews eyes on him,
because he turned towards Andrew very quickly.
``What?'' He jabbed.
His fingers played nervously with the gun he had taken away from Nick.

``Do you guys actually know who you're messing with?'' Nick asked hastily,
and probably out of no other reason than to break the uncomfortable silence that had been lingering in the cabin since takeoff.
When he didn't get an answer,
he continued: ``His dad doesn't just have money.
He is also a very influential man.
\textbf{\textit{Very}} influential.
I wouldn't have the courage to make him angry,
and we're closer than most of the rest of his staff.''

``Let us worry about that.'' Scarhand said.

``You don't have any idea how much you \textit{should be} worrying.'' Nick said coldly.
``If you harm him in any way,
you'll be wishing you were dead.''

The Cessna got faster and faster,
nearing the end of the laughably short runway very quickly and lifting off at the last possible moment.
Andrew had been through this maneuver enough times to not worry about it,
and besides that he knew that Nick was an excellent pilot.
That didn't stop him from gripping the seat a bit as the machine barely lifted over the grassy hill at the end of the runway,
cutting off the heads on a few dandelions.
The two men behind them noticeably pulled in their heads like turtles bracing for impact,
and Nick put the cherry on top by pulling the plane up even more in a very sharp right turn.

``Don't do anything stupid.'' Scarhand warned.
``Otherwise I might get nervous.''

``I need to pull up that hard here,
the thermals here are terrible.''

Andrew just barely suppressed a surprised look.
The couple of dozen times that they had taken off from there Nick had let the Cessna rise slow enough that Andrew barely even felt them rising.
Besides,
the whole thing with thermals was nonsense.
They were too far away to be affected by the warm updrafts along the sides of the mountains.


Then Andrew realized what Nick was doing.
He made that abnormal flight maneuver because he could inconspicuously talk about it,
the police on the other end could listen for his subtle directions,
and Nick could find out how much the kidnappers knew about flying.

Apparently it wasn't too much of a stretch for Scarhand,
but his partner didn't buy it.
``No tomfoolery!'' he threatened while waving around the pistol.

``Or what?'' Nick asked carelessly.
``Are you going to shoot me?''

``No,'' Scarhand answered instead of his partner.
``But I could cut off one of your friend's ears.
He does have two of those.''

Nick gave him a hate-filled glare,
but didn't answer.
Instead he concentrated on making the plane climb in close circles until they were at about 1000 m.

``Now it would be practical if I knew where I was going.'' he said.

``Just fly south.'' Scarhand answered.

``Good idea.'' Nick nodded,
obediently turning the almost invisible circle created by the propellers in the direction he was told.
``And which mountain do you want me to fly into?''

That question was reasonable,
seeing as there were only mountains in their line of flight.
Andrew knew that most of them were too high for the little Cessna to fly over.

``Shut up and just keep Flying.'' Scarhand hissed angrily.
``I'll tell you where to go.''

His voice told a different story.
He wasn't just nervous,
he didn't have the slightest idea of where they were going.
Nick put what Andrew thought into words.
``You've never been in a plane before,
have you.'' He asked.
``There are certain pathways up here.
If we leave one of those,
we'll have the police on us faster than you can imagine.''

Andrew was slightly surprised that Scarhand didn't get angry.
Instead he actually thought about what Nick said.
``We need to get to the other side of the mountains.'' He said eventually,
making a gesture towards the left.
``That way.''

Andrew's eyes followed his gesture.
Not too far away a small valley appeared in between the seemingly almost insurmountable wall of rock.
From where they were,
it looked like a barely finger-width gap,
but they were still a ways off.
Nick didn't move a muscle to turn in that direction.

``Is there something wrong with your ears?'' Scarhand asked.

``Completely impossible.'' Nick said.
``That's a No-Fly Zone.''

``Who cares?'' Scarhand replied.
``Do what I tell you.'' He pressed his knife to Andrew's neck,
causing him to bleed more.
Nick hastily put the plane in the right direction and glared at Scarhand.

``If you touch Andrew again,
I'll kill you.'' Nick said calmly.

``Shut up.'' Scarhand replied.
Nicks threat had affected him nonetheless,
as Scarhand quickly pulled the knife back a little.

``We're going to be in huge trouble.
That whole area ahead of us is a restricted military zone.'' Nick insisted.
``Either way,
that valley is a weather hole.
The thermals there will rip us apart.''

``You're a good pilot,
right?'' Scarhand asked.
``You'll make it.''

Nick didn't answer,
but Andrew thought he could feel Nicks nervousness.
Scarhand was right: Nick was an excellent pilot,
but this valley up ahead actually scared even Nick.
\textit{That} scared Andrew.
He was thinking that Nick had made up the story about the No-Fly zone,
but now he wasn't sure if it was true or to let the police catch up.

``What are you even planning on doing with us,
if I may?'' Nick asked after a few minutes.

``No,
you may not.'' Scarhand replied sharply,
but that didn't stop Nick.

``I'm just wondering if you're working for somebody or not.''

``Does it make a difference?''

``And how!'' Stated Nick.
``There are two options.
If you're really not working for anybody,
you're either completely insane or you don't have a clue who you're messing with.
If that's the case,
I suggest we land somewhere around here and you two jokesters can get out of this situation as fast as possible.
I promise that nobody will hear about this little incident.''

``What's the other option?'' Scarhand inquired.

``If you have an employer,
name your price and a name.
I guarantee that nothing will happen to you.''

``Yeah right.'' Scarhand said mockingly.

``I'm completely serious.'' Nick persisted.
``Andrew's dad could give a shit who is behind this.
I'm pretty sure that he would give a bunch of money for information.''

``Stop blabbering.'' Said Scarhand.
Andrew thought he sounded a little nervous,
perhaps even thoughtful.

Andrew was also nervous.
His suspicion must have been more than just hot air.
Nicks behavior on the drive to the airport seemed totally different; As did his James-Bond-like search of the hangar.
Maybe the nervousness in his eyes wasn't the valley or the No-Fly zone,
but something completely different.
 It wasn't the first time,
but in a completely different way Andrew asked himself \textit{who} his dad actually was.
The short conversation that he and Nick had earlier included all he really knew about his father,
since he had basically grown up at castle Drachental,
and the time he had spent at home started to fade away in his memories.
It wasn't because it was so long ago,
but rather because it was just so uneventful.
Andrew had never even gotten to know who his mother was.
Back when he was a \textit{very} young child he had never even asked where his mom was,
because he couldn't really miss something he never had.
 After a couple of years he \textit{had} asked where she was,
but had only gotten either no answer at all or a very evasive answer,
so he quickly gave up on asking any more questions.
Using the little amount of instincts that small children have,
he figured out that that was the one topic that was taboo with his dad.
For a while he had comforted himself with the thought that she had died shortly after his birth,
so his father didn't want to talk about it because it brought back too many memories.
That was the most comforting explanation,
but deep down inside he knew that it was likely not like that.

Because of his age and the books he read,
Andrew had developed the oddest and most chilling theories,
all the way from her being kidnapped by the mafia and never coming back,
to her being an Elven princess that had gone back to her secret kingdom after giving his father a child.
Somewhere along the line he realized that the truth was most likely a lot simpler and more gruesome.
Andrew's top theory was that she had walked out on him and his dad shortly after Andrew was born and that his dad didn't want to talk about her because he still couldn't get over the loss of her.
And since he had gone to the boarding school and found a new home there,
he hadn't thought about her for a while.
 But now,
while he was sitting there trying to hold his head so that Scarhand didn't accidentally cut his throat if they got into some turbulence,
he realized that he hardly knew anything about his dad.
It was just like Nick had told him: Andrew had grown up under the care of nice,
but often different nannies,
and he had sometimes not seen his dad for weeks on end.
His memories of that house were that it was a large,
gloomy building,
with long corridors and huge rooms with high ceilings,
populated with heavy,
antique furniture.
And as for his dad,
he only remembered a large,
silent man that looked like he had white hair since a young age.
Even in designer suits he looked like a medieval king or a magician.

As a matter of fact,
he didn't know what his dad did.
He knew he ruled over a large empire of companies that had grown over time,
but that was all Andrew knew.
In the few precious hours that they had spent together,
his dad never talked about business,
and Andrew wasn't very interested in that anyway.
Maybe he should have been interested.
With the way that Nick was talking about him,
he was worried that this really wasn't about the money,
but rather that his dad was a mighty man and had some mighty enemies.

Andrew forced himself to stop thinking about that and pulled himself together.
It wouldn't help him if he saw his father as a mafia godfather,
with Scarhand and his partner being modern-day Robin Hoods that had just kidnapped him to protest against the pollution of the environment or to protect a sub-genus of the Daisy that is endangered.
Nick was probably right and they were just some idiots that didn't have any idea with whom they were dealing.

\begin{quote}
But that didn't make them less dangerous.
\end{quote}

The mountains gradually got closer.
Andrew stole a glance at that radio,
hoping that what Nick had told him was true.It was about time for something to happen before they got out of reach of the authorities.
The gap in the face of the mountains had gotten bigger and Andrew saw now that it was anything but a small valley,
which was what it had looked like from a ways away.
Instead it was a massive canyon with almost vertical walls on either side.
The air above it was noticeably darker,
so Nick must have been right about it being a weather hole.

The radio emitted an incoming signal tone.
Nick wanted to reach for the Mic,
but Scarhand Shook his head.
Nick shrugged and pulled his hand back.

``If I don't respond,
it will be very uncomfortable for us very soon.''

Five to six minutes passed as the massive mountains got closer and the darkness over the canyon darkened.
Andrew wasn't quite sure if it was an actual storm cloud.
It looked more like it was just darkness,
as if there were something that didn't allow light to exist,
however crazy that sounded.

``We'll be doing aerobatics soon.'' Nick suddenly proclaimed.
Scarhand blankly looked at him and Nick made a gesture towards the mirror where there was a quickly approaching object flashing blue and red.

``Crap!'' Scarhand said unfavorably.
``How did they get here so quickly?''

Nick pointed at the radio,
where there was still a flashing red light.

``They don't like it when you don't respond.''

``Keep your smart-ass comments to yourself.'' Scarhand retorted.

``Just speed up and lose them,
will you?''

``You really don't get it.'' Nick sighed.
``This isn't a jet.
That police helicopter is \textit{way} faster than us.''

Andrew suppressed the urge to tell Scarhand that the police had been listening this whole time anyway.
He figured it would be better if he waited for the right moment to tell him,
if there ever was one.

Either way the helicopter had gotten closer very quickly.
Not even a minute later the helicopter had turned from a blinking dot in the mirror to a streamlined body that looked like it could catch up to the Cessna with no problems,
even if Nick made the Cessna go as fast as possible.

``Dammit'' Scarhand mumbled.The knife at Andrew's neck trembled lightly.

Nick grinned coldly.
``I guess you have a problem now,
friends.
Maybe you should have taken me up on my offer.''

``False.'' Scarhand answered.
``\textit{You} have a problem.
Figure something out to lose the pigs,
or your friend gets a new face.''

The helicopter got closer and the red flashing on the radio got more hectic.
Nick ignored it and the police helicopter made a surprisingly quick jump so it was right next to them,
about 20 meters away.
The Pilot gestured heavily and waved the microphone he held in his right hand.
Nick looked at him,
and shook his head with exaggerated motions.
It was very obvious he couldn't answer to the helicopter Pilot.


Even if the other Pilot had believed him,
it didn't help.

The helicopter got even closer and they suddenly heard an amplified voice that easily overpowered the sound of the motors.

``Attention! Three seven eight Mike Sierra! You are currently flying through a No-Fly zone! Turn around and follow us!''

Nick shook his head.

The helicopter repeated his announcement two more times,
then he changed his tactic.
He sped up and stayed about 50 meters away from the nose of the Cessna and started slowing down.

``Don't you dare go slower.'' Scarhand threatened.

Nick held his speed,
but the helicopter got noticeably slower,
and the distance between them melted away.
Nick held the yoke with stoic calmness and Andrew wasn't the only one getting nervous.
Soon they were maybe 30 meters away from the back of the helicopter,
then 20,
10\dots 

The pilot would have had to accelerate to remove them both from danger,
but those were obviously not his intentions.
He stubbornly kept his course while still slowing down.

At the very last possible moment Nick pulled the plane into a sharp turn to the left and dove underneath the helicopter.
As they were diving underneath it,
Andrew could see the chopper swerve to the side as they surprised the pilot.For a split Second the helicopter fell back,
but it quickly took back its place next to Cessna.
Even at this distance Andrew could tell how mad the Pilot was.

For a moment he was still looking at Nick,
then rose up above the Cessna and lowered itself so quickly that Andrew almost expected to see the skids poke through the cockpit's canopy.
At the last moment Nick pressed the Yoke forwards and they went into a quick,
but short,
descent.
Scarhand was not prepared and the knife slit at Andrew's neck,
causing blood to run down to his collar.

``Put the damn knife away.'' Nick snarled,
catching the plane and putting it back into position.
``Or do you want to accidentally kill him?''

Scarhand hesitated another moment,
but then he actually did pull the knife back -- even if he wiped it off on Andrew's shirt first.
He really was an idiot.

His buddy waved this pistol around as a threat.
``Just don't do anything stupid!''

``Because you'll shoot me,
I know.'' said Nick.

Andrew touched his neck and felt sticky blood,
but not as much as he expected.
Relieved,
he turned his head to look at the helicopter.
It had fallen back a little,
but was easily catching up.
Nick was flying noticeably faster,
but Andrew was still sure that the police could easily pass them.

As if the other Pilot had heard Andrews thoughts and wanted to confirm them,
he suddenly sped up with playful ease and repeated his maneuver,
so that Nick had to go into a hair-raising dive again.

Andrew was asking himself more and more desperately what was actually going on.
During normal kidnappings they focus on deescalating the situation,
not leading a small war against the kidnappers.
Andrew didn't know what their aggressive behavior meant,
but he did know one thing: Something was going completely wrong.

``God dammit get rid of him!'' Scarhand yelled.

``Its more the other way around.'' Nick answered strained.
``Just a couple more of those tricks and he'll be forcing us to land.''

``Do something about it!'' Scarhand yelled back.

``And what exactly am I supposed to do?'' Nick answered at comparative volume.
``Should I ram him?''

The guy behind Nick raised his pistol and tried opening the window.
``The next time he passes us,
I'll shoot him!'' He threatened.
``Try to fly smoothly.''

``What a great idea!'' Nick said with deep sarcasm.
``Then they'll just send a military helicopter to shoot us down.
I'm actually a little surprised they haven't done that yet,
we're really deep into the No-Fly zone b--'' 

He got cut off by the Police Helicopter dove down on them like a bird of prey,
forcing them to make another dive.
Now they were at about half the altitude they started out at,
so Nick tried to gain some back,
but the heli was right back on them

``In there!'' Scarhand pointed towards the canyon.
``Fly into that storm!''

``Are you crazy\textinterrobang'' Nick yelled.

``Not at all,'' Scarhand replied calmly.
``this is an airplane.
We can handle the weather better than the helicopter by a long shot.
He won't follow us into the storm.''

Andrew figured he was probably right.
The problem was that he was getting less and less sure that the strange darkness was just a storm.
It looked more like something that just swallowed light like a black hole.

Nick was going to answer,
but Scarhand spared him the effort by raising the knife and waving it around in front of Andrew's face.
Nick gave him an angry look,
but he did steer toward the direction he was ordered in.
The helicopter caught up with ease,
but this time they flew alongside the plane.