Mongo circled like a vulture, keeping his FLIR — and eyes — locked on for signs of survivors. There were none, and Mongo wondered what the controller had in mind. He sent another photo of the hulk as a prompt. Within a minute, he received his tasking:
STAND BY FOR SHOT
LIMA IN 1 MIKE
Mongo acknowledged and set himself up for another south to north run. As he descended to below 10,000 feet, he worked to keep his aiming diamond low on the hull. He saw the Fire Scout launch another guided rocket from inside a mile. The rocket motor was still burning when it exploded into the upturned hull, cutting it in half and sending a spray of debris that churned up the water on the far side. Within seconds, both pieces of the hull slipped below the waves. Now down on the water, he saw no signs of life, not even a floating body. The controller messaged him again:
GOOD WORK
CLEARED RTB
Mongo rogered the message, and, climbing through the buildup columns, set a course back to the ship. It was now time to pay more attention to his low-fuel state. Soon he was back at 35,000 feet, heading east with the sun high above.
Cruising at a transonic airspeed, he felt he was floating above the earth, in total dominion of it, looking down on the hapless merchant ships and dirty little fishing boats. They were clueless, like dumb sheep grazing in a meadow, protected by him who keeps watch, killing the wolf without remorse. He killed perfectly, as they had briefed it… and would not say a word about it, ever.
At 100 miles out, he keyed the mike and checked in with Strike control for vectors to the KC-10, the first words he had spoken in the two hours since he had manned the jet on the flight deck. The tanker was orbiting southeast of him at sixty miles, and he pulled power to enter a fuel-conserving descent as his radar locked it. He was low on fuel but would make it before the FUEL LO caution appeared on his display. After all, he was a professional, handpicked for this mission.
And ready for more.
CHAPTER 12
Several days later, after another long day at sea, Macho sat at her stateroom desk emailing her sister back home in Virginia. Today’s dissimilar air combat training hop against the Colombian Kfirs had been exhilarating, and as the XO’s trusted wingman, Macho had felt a kindred bond of sisterhood. Annie had led them out of the sun, gaining two early tallies. She had directed Macho to take the far bandit.
Macho came in high-to-low taking a big bite— the guy didn’t see her until she was almost saddled in for guns — and when he did, he took it up… a mistake.
Macho followed his predictable flight path with ease. Unable to maneuver hard, the gray delta-winged jet hung against the brilliant blue sky as it bled airspeed. It fell off right, and Macho followed it with her gun sight pipper on. Ho hum. Another day at the office. Staying behind her Kfir, with its nose buried, she noted Annie pushing her bandit around a mile away. White condensation poured off the Kfir’s wings as the pilot struggled to get his nose up and get the Hornet off him. Macho imagined “writing her name” on the fuselage of the aircraft in front of her with the imaginary bullets she was pumping into it. Satisfied, she called “Terminate,” and Annie soon followed. They joined up and returned home, logging some “practice plugs” on the Super Hornet tanker that orbited overhead the ship, and in sharp formation came into the break, both of them logging OK-3 wire passes. A great hop all around, Annie was a big sister she could look up to and a leader she could emulate.
Shane entered the stateroom after her day in CVIC, the carrier intel center. Her duty included debriefing pilots and updating launch and recovery information for their event briefings.
“Hiii!”
“Hi. How was CVIC?”
“Omigosh! It was so cool today! Commander Hofmeister assigned me to get the weather information for the flight briefings. The sailors in the meteorology office took me up to the tower and showed me how they launch weather balloons and take wind readings. It’s incredible up there! And they told me how the Captain turns the ship any way he wants in order to get the winds down the runway for you exactly the way you need them. Really cool! And everyone is so nice!”
I’ll bet, Macho thought.
“What did you do today?” Shane asked.
“Two-v-two with the XO against some Colombian Kfirs. We bumped heads about a hun’erd miles south of here.”
“How were they?”
Macho wasn’t expecting this question, but answered as if she were a pilot.
“They came at us in an echelon, not much in the way of pre-merge maneuvering. XO led us out of the sun, and we each glommed on to our own guy and pushed him around a bit. I think I had the new guy in their formation, and we were pretty far out to sea; they were probably worried about losing sight of land!”
“What kind of radar indications did you get?”
Impressed by the technical question, Macho remembered that the “Sweet Polly Purebred” who stood in front of her did have an understanding of threat radars.
“I was clean. Maybe that was their plan — so you spies couldn’t glean any intel. But they didn’t seem to lock us, and that makes sense because we were already rolling in on them when they began to turn.”
Shane nodded her understanding. “Yeah, they may have gone in silent.” After a moment, she changed the subject. “Are you writing your boyfriend?”
“No. Don’t have one. How about you?”
“I had one, but it didn’t work out.” Shane’s answer left a question hanging.
“What happened?” Macho asked her.
Shane formulated her answer and took a breath. “We met in college. He was a year older, good-looking, brother of my roommate. We dated, while in school, for three years. After he graduated, he asked me to marry him, and I said yes. He took a job in Alaska, and before he left, he wanted pictures of me “to keep him warm” at night and all that. You know… those kinds of pictures. Now, we had never done it, we were saving ourselves, but he begged and pleaded and we were engaged, so I took my top off. That’s it! And I covered myself with my hands and my hair. He took pictures with his smartphone, and… I was such an idiot. Months later, he called one night crying. He had shown the photos to some guys. No, he had sent the photos to some guys! I couldn’t believe how he had betrayed me! And, sure enough, it got out there, and people started whispering at school. Praise the Lord! I kept my commission, but I called off the engagement. It just killed his parents and his baby sister. We had gotten close. I was upset that I let them down.”
“Wow,” Macho said.
“You can’t tell anyone!” Shane flared. “I had to go away on a ship to leave Idaho behind, and here there are lots of cute guys, and they aren’t going to want a slut like me.”