Captain Jerry Allison’s F-16 broke through five thousand feet. He rocked his wings slightly by applying the barest of pressure on the fly-by-wire control. Lounging back at a thirty-degree incline, he spotted the soft glow of Wendover across the night sky fifteen miles away.
He’d never been to Alpha Base — or Wendover, for that matter — but he was well aware of the drilclass="underline" the thirteen-thousand-foot runway and spacious parking at Wendover could accommodate a lot of aircraft. He wasn’t sure how many — the exact number was classified — but his Wing could fly in and strap on tactical nukes if the balloon ever went up.
Jerry flipped the Doppler onto his heads-up display. Nothing was in the air, and after a quick infrared search and track scan, he nodded to himself. He raised Pete over the radio. “IRST shows the air is clear. Whoever was up earlier must have taken our warning.”
“Falcon One, this is Wendover CP. We’ve got an audible track on something still over Alpha Base. Request you verify and smoke him—”
“Falcon One, this is airborne Wendover CP. I say again, you’re picking up unfriendly jamming. Until you get positive confirmation, request you check out the bogies on Alpha Base — they have launched a raid on the complex and are stealing the devices stored there—”
“That’s a negative, Falcon One. We have rescue operations currently ongoing at Alpha Base and are attempting to airlift the injured to the base hospital. Request—”
Jerry yelled over the confusion. “Pete, switch to local plus one.” Jerry punched in his Wing frequency plus one band width and immediately called out, “Pete.”
“Here.”
“Next time they find us, switch to this minus five.”
“Got it. What in the hell is going on down there?”
“Don’t know, but let’s find out. Break left and stay at altitude. I’m going in.” Jerry pulled to the left and inched his stick forward. Pete remained in loose trail until Jerry started to descend; he pulled into a slow bank.
As he broke through to the low altitude, Jerry hit his speed breaks and lowered his landing gear. The F-16 grabbed at the air, slowing its air speed.
As Jerry approached Alpha Base, the devastation struck him. Building after building lay ruined, bomb craters peppered the complex. A smoky haze covered Alpha Base.
He spotted a trio of helicopters squatting in the middle of a cluster of bunkers. He inched down to one hundred feet and rocked his wings. People scattered over the area started waving, raising rifles over their heads.
Jerry pulled up, bringing in his landing gear and flaps. Pete was silent until Jerry reached five thousand feet.
“What did you see?”
Jerry mulled it over. “The place was under attack.”
“So where’s that bandit we should smoke? I’m—“
“This is airborne Wendover CP. Don’t switch channels, I got your frequency over the secure comm link from your Wing. I say again—”
Jerry clicked his mike and interrupted the person breaking in on their frequency. “All right, all right, dammit. Pete — if this guy’s an unfriendly, switch to the frequency we agreed on earlier, right?”
“Button three, roger that.”
Jerry turned his attention back to the voice claiming to be the real Wendover CP. He held his ship in a gentle bank over Alpha Base. “Okay, Wendover. Prove to me that you are who you say you are.”
“I just spoke to Colonel Justine over the secure link and he gave me your Wing frequency. I added one band width, and here I am. But listen, those bozos on the ground are about to take off with part of Alpha Base’s devices.”
“Wait a minute — what devices? And where are you?”
The voice came back angrily. “You know as well as I that we can’t talk about what’s stored at Alpha Base — not over uncleared channels. And I’m not about to tell you where we are if you won’t assure me you believe me.”
Jerry hesitated; he quit speaking in clipped sentences as adrenaline rushed through his veins. “Look, how do I know you just didn’t stumble on this frequency? I made a pass over Alpha Base and everything appeared to be on the up and up—”
“Open your eyes! Did you see any rescue vehicles? Ambulances? Security police cars? Make a pass over by the runway and you’ll see that the access road is cratered. A flock of vehicles is trying to get across the desert to Alpha Base.”
Jerry pondered the information. Crap — why couldn’t he just get the easy ones? He wasn’t even a flight commander — just a captain flying fighters, on flight pay, a beautiful wife, two kids, and no alimony … things were supposed to be going great for him. He didn’t even have to think if he didn’t want to — the Air Force would do that for him.
And now he had to use “utmost discretion” to save the nation?
He snorted. “Pete, jump to the new frequency. Wendover, you stay put — I’ll be right back.”
Jerry clicked to the Wing frequency minus five. “Pete, what do you think?”
“I don’t know. You saw Alpha Base — it’s your call.”
“But—” He stopped. There’s no one else around, is there? Damned if I make the wrong choice. “Pete, flip back up to Wendover.” Jerry moved the radio once more. “Wendover?”
“Here.”
“I’m going to make one more pass. And if you’re not telling the truth, I’m hunting you down.”
Two clicks came over the speaker.
“Hold on, Pete. Keep her steady.”
“Roger that.”
Jerry pulled down to Alpha Base. He clicked back to the original frequency he and Pete rode in on. “Wendover, this is Falcon One. I’m making another pass — please step out and identify yourself.”
“That’s a rog, Falcon One. We’re waiting for your ID.”
As Jerry rolled in he spotted a dozen white barrels being pushed from one of the bunkers. The barrels were shoved onto one of the helicopters. As he dipped lower, the men pushing the barrels scattered. One hauled out what looked like a long pipe and pointed it at him.
“Holy shit! A missile!” He pulled back on the stick with his right hand, slapped the side of his fighter with his left hand to unload his decoy flares, and hit the afterburners, all in one motion.
The F-16 responded sluggishly. Jerry thought fast — he was moving too slow. Dumping his ordnance, he shot straight up. As the gee indicator pegged, he cut back on the thrust. Looking back over his shoulder, half the men were scattered over the ground from his wash and load that hit the ground.
“Jerry — what’s up?”
Jerry tried to keep his voice from shaking. “The bastards tried to bag me. They’re loading barrels into the helicopters.”
“This is Wendover CP — those are medical supplies, Falcon One. You spooked our men. They didn’t know you were coming. Sorry about the misunderstanding.”
“Pete, flip up to Wing plus one.” A moment passed, then, “You there, Pete?”
“Yeah. What do you think about that white barrel story?”
The airborne Wendover voice broke in. “Those, gentlemen, are the ‘devices’ stored at Alpha Base. Any other questions?”
Jerry was silent. His ten-year career as an Air Force officer flashed before him. Damn. What if he was wrong? What if there really was a rescue operation going on down there? But he couldn’t be wrong. He saw those barrels with his own eyes. And what else could they be but storage containers for nukes? He clicked the mike. “Airborne Wendover, what do you suggest?”
“Take out the helicopters.”
“There are people down there—”
“You think those buildings on fire is part of a joke? A hoax? How many men do you think have died trying to prevent what is happening right now?”