Phineas lunged into the craft behind Eliza as bullets ricocheted off the riveted metal walls. Through the tinted window, Phineas could see the five remaining hostiles breaking out of the treeline from the direction of Joseph's craft, firing wildly toward the campsite. A bullet shot through the front window and cracked it as Phineas kicked the engine into power. 

An overhead light flickered on and illuminated the cabin in a pale yellow luster. Across the dash, dials and meters spun to life, giving a reading of the ship's condition. Two worn leather seats sat behind the control panel, and six smaller seats lined the walls on either side. Phineas dropped his rifle and sat down, trying to quickly acquaint himself with the controls. Another bullet went through the windshield and hit one of the seats in the back, and a dozen more pattered off the outer wall. 
Phineas identified a large lever as the primary elevation throttle. He pushed it forward hesitantly, and the ship's engine grew louder as it began to slowly rise out of its imprint in the sand. He pressed a large black button, and the ship's horn sounded loudly.

"Not that one," he said to himself, running his hand through his hair anxiously. He punched a metallic grey button adjacent to it, and the rear ramp rose to close the craft. 

"Better." he said, and looked back out over the beach. The soldiers were getting closer, and he could faintly hear foreign shouts as they fired rushed, inaccurate shots and reloaded. Phineas grabbed hold of a handled steering column and was satisfied to feel the craft turn below him. He locked the elevator in position and pressed forward on the thrust, and the craft broke into motion, turning over the beach and south. 

"Hell yeah!" Phineas said in spite of himself, and regained his composure as another bullet bounced off the exterior. He looked at a dial rimmed in Arabic text but accompanied by the universal droplet of oil. It read about three quarters full; they were safe, in that respect. Suddenly, he remembered himself and looked back to Eliza. She was visibly wounded; blood flowed slowly from several small lesions. He quickly checked that the controls were set to continue flying forward, then turned his seat around and crouched next to Eliza, gently grabbing her arm. He could not tell whether she was conscious. 

"Eliza?" he asked, softly shaking her.