Repeat, can you divert to Anchorage?"
"Negative, negative," Elliott replied. "Less than one-five minutes of fuel at present rate of loss. No navigation equipment. Magnetic instruments only. We are only estimating our present position.
"Understand, Genesis," the senior controller said and looked over to his NCO partner.
"Got the boss on the line, sir," the NCO said. The senior controller grabbed the phone.
"Colonel Sands here."
"Major Falls in the Command Post, sir. Inbound inflight emergency requesting a strip alert tanker.
"How far out is he?" Sands asked.
"He estimates about one hundred and seventy miles now.
sir. He said less than fifteen minutes of fuel."
"Hell, we might not make it even if we launched right now.
Who is it?"
"They're using a strange call sign, sir," Falls said "Genesis. It's a special ops call sign out of Edwards."
Sands swore under his breath. Special Operations. An experimental or highly classified mission. But from Edwards'."
"How's the runway now?"
Slick as owl shit, sir. RCR still about ten. Fifty feet either side of centerline is free of ice to about twelve RCR.Taxiways are about eight RCR.
"Status of the strip alert bird?"
"In the green, sir," Falls said, glancing over at his assistant.
The NCO cupped his hand over the telephone he was using.
"The crew's being recalled to the pad, sir," the NCO reported.
"Have them report directly to their plane," Falls said. He turned to his telephone. "Crews are responding to their planes, sir.
"Get an authentication from this Genesis," Sands said.
"I'm on my way."
"Command post clear. "Falls opened the communications code book, checked that the date and time were good and turned to his radio.
"Genesis, this is Icepack control. Authenticate Alpha Echo.
Elliott turned to Ormack. "They want me to authenticate."
"We don't have any code documents."
"Unable to authenticate, Icepack," Elliott replied quickly.
Falls winced. What the hell was going on?
"Genesis, we cannot provide strip alert support without authentication.
"Icepack, this is the senior controller aboard Genesis," Elliott said over the high-frequency radio. "The communications compartment has been severely damaged. Half the crew is dead or injured. We have no means to authenticate."
A few moments later Colonel Sands was wriggling his chubby desk-bound body out of his parka. "Status?"
"He said he was unable to authenticate, sir," Falls said.
"Fire inside their crew compartment and communications center, injuries. The senior controller seems to be the one in command." "Senior controller?Communications center?Sounds like an AWACS or EC-135-but it's an Edwards call sign?" Sands picked up the microphone.
"Genesis, this is Icepack. Over. "He bent toward the speaker.
"Go ahead, Icepack. Urgently need strip alert support."
Sands searched his memory. "I recognize that voice.
Where?" He keyed the microphone. "Genesis, say type of aircraft and souls on board.
"Unable, Icepack."
"Son of a bitch," Sands said half-aloud. "What's going on?
Damn… thatvoice. "Hethoughtquickly "Gethold of Anchorage Center, find out where this guy came from.
"Already did that, Colonel," the NCO told him. "Nothing.
No squawk. Not even radar contact. He's been outside the ADIZ until now."
"Then screw him," Sands asked. "This sounds too fishy. We due for an air defense test or something?" Falls shook his head. Sands grimaced and keyed the microphone. "Genesis.
strip alert support is not authorized without proper authentication.
Unless you identify yourself, you'll have to swim back. Elliott looked preoccupied as Ormack said, "What do we do now, we've only got-" "Sands!" Elliott suddenly blurted out. "Eddie Sands!That sorry son of a bitch. They stuck his ass in Shemya. "Elliott keyed his microphone.
"We are unable to authenticate… scum-maggot.
Sands paled as if he had seen a ghost. Slowly he brought the microphone to his lips.
Falls glared at his wing commander as if he had been slapped in the face. Sands angrily jammed the mike button down. "Say again, Genesis."
"You heard me, slime-worm," Elliott shot back. "Unable to authenticate.
To Falls' immense surprise, a hint of a smile began to creep across Sands' face.
"Genesis," Sands said carefully, the smile still working its way across the pudgy face of the Shemya wing commander.
"Once more. Is this for real?"
"Affirmative… dirt bag. "Aboard the Megafortress, Ormack looked befuddled.
"What… T' "He'll have the tanker airborne in five minutes," Elliott told Ormack, relaxing in his ejection seat. "Crew, prepare for refueling. "Sands dropped the microphone into Falls' lap.
"Has the strip alert crew called in?"
"No, sir, I expect them any-" p his "Call the vice commander," Sands said, zipping u parka. "Tell him he's got the store. Put me on the strip alert flight orders. Notify Reynolds that I'm coming aboard for his emergency refueling."
Faster than any of his men had ever seen the pudgy commander move, Sands was out the door. Falls' partner looked baffled as the full-bird colonel sped down the hallway and into the subzero cold outside.
"What the hell?"
"Don't ask me, Bill," Falls said.
"What about the old standard operating procedures?"
Falls thought a moment. "We follow them, even if the colonel doesn't.
Notify the interceptor squadron on alert. Tell them the KC-10 is taking off in support of emergency refueling, but that the aircraft they'll be rendezvousing with is unidentified. The unidentified aircraft is not considered hostile but it has refused or is somehow unable to establish contact with any civilian or military agency.
"Got it. "The NCO picked up the phone and dialed as rapidly as he could.
McLanahan was announcing: "Eleven o'clock, seventy miles. "Over the newly assigned U.H.F command post frequency they were using as the air refueling frequency, he said, "Icepack one-oh-one, Genesis has radar contact at seventy miles at your two o'clock position."
The pilot of Icepack 101, the KC-10 tanker from Shemya, looked to Colonel Sands, who was sitting in the I.P jumpseat between himself and his KC-10's co-pilot.
"A new voice," the pilot, Joe Reynolds remarked. "Sounds like a nav if I ever heard one. I thought there was only one survivor on board?"
"Radar contact at seventy miles?" Sands echoed. "Maybe not as helpless as they said they were.":"Do we keep on going?" Reynolds asked.
"We keep on going," Sands told him. "I recognize a voice on board.
Precontact check complete," Ormack said aboard the Old Dog. "All external lights are off right now."
"Good," Elliott said.
Just then Wendy Tork reported, "I've got search radar contact at eleven o'clock."
"That's the tanker," McLanahan said. Wendy checked the c Oscillos ope-like frequency pattern on the frequency video display.
"Confirmed," she said.
McLanahan flipped on a switch marked BEACON on his manual tuning radar control panel, checking that the radar frequency remained on the preset "doghouse" beacon frequenCy range. The tiny dot representing the tanker on his radar changed into a line of six tiny rectangles in a one-two-three dot pattern. "I've got his beacon. "He switched to interplane.
"One-oh-one, contact your beacon. Beacon to standby."
The six-dot pattern disappeared. "Go back to operate. II The pattern reappeared.
"Positive ID, our eleven o'clock, sixty-five miles."
"Check on air-to-air TACAN, " the pilot aboard Icepack IO 1 acknowledged. The mileage on the air-to-air TACAN receiver.
the two aircraft, slowh which gave the distance between filed 11 clicked down.
"What do you hope to find, sir?" Reynolds asked the wing commander alongside him.