Honi looked down at the black high-heeled shoes she had picked out for her business suit. “Whatever you have has got to be better than these.”
Honi picked out the smallest sized fatigues, boots, and four pairs of socks, and went into the office bathroom to change. When she came out Jake, Stafford and Ken were standing in the office wearing their fatigues. They looked at her. Jake raised his eyebrows. She had her shirt cuffs turned back and buttoned, but the shirt was still billowing out around her. The pants fluffed out like old-fashioned riding trousers, which she had stuffed down into her obviously oversized boots.
“How are the boots?” Jake asked.
Honi looked down at her feet. “I feel like a duck. Four pairs of socks and they’re still loose.”
“Can you walk and run in them?”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
She walked out the office door. Jake watched as she jumped and shook. Then she ran awkwardly back and forth next to the grass runway. When she came back in, she looked discouraged.
“This isn’t going to work.”
Jake pulled his phone and called General Davies.
“We need a set of battle fatigues. What size?” he asked Honi.
“Women’s size four. And size five boots.”
Jake repeated the information to General Davies.
“Thank you, General.” Jake disconnected.
“They’ll be on the transport.”
She looked a little sheepish. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Are you kidding? We’re going into battle. I want you there right next to me.”
She looked back at him, eyes locked on his, and didn’t say a word.
“And right next to me,” Stafford said. He and Ken had come out to check on Honi.
“And me,” Ken added.
“We’re a team,” Jake said. “Come hell or high water, we’re still a team. Nothing is going to change that.”
She tightened her lips and nodded. “Thank you,” she said confidently.
“Now let’s pick out our weapons,” Jake said.
The back room of the office doubled as a sleeping area with four cots, and an armory. Jake and Stafford picked out M-16 rifles, Honi and Ken selected H&K MP5s. They all stuffed an extra clip in each vest pocket.
Jake’s phone buzzed. He looked at the message. “Assault force is in the air. Based on the carrier, USS Carl Vinson, off the coast of Chili. They’re six hours out.” He looked at the clock. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Six hours from now would make it eight in the evening local time, which was midnight, Universal Time — the deadline. He shook his head. “It’s too close. Too much can go wrong.”
“It’s all we can do,” Stafford replied. “We’ve got to try.”
Jake nodded and started pacing back and forth.
“Save your energy,” Stafford said quietly. “You’re going to need every ounce of it when we take the facility.”
“You’re going to need to eat,” Wessler said. He had opened six cans of beef stew and was warming it in a pot.
The warm food was welcomed and helped them relax a bit. Jake noticed each one glance at the clock on the wall every few minutes. In some ways, waiting was the hard part, not knowing what to expect, uncertain of the conditions they would encounter.
Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken drifted outside as the sun set. The mountain shadow had long ago cut off the direct light of the sun. Now, what light remained was fading fast.
“They’ll refuel in the air,” Stafford said. “Maybe twice, depending on the aircraft. You don’t want to go into combat with an empty fuel tank.”
“What bothers me is that we don’t know what kind of technology or weapons we’re going up against. We might not stand a chance,” Jake said.
“And what chance do we have if we don’t stop them?” Stafford said.
Jake looked at Honi and Ken. They were calm and determined. “Then we give it everything we have.”
Jake’s phone buzzed again. He checked the screen. “ETA ten minutes. Our ride’s almost here.”
They went inside, checked their weapons and walked back out to wait in the chilly night air. The heavy throb of large helicopter blades began to shake the air. Red and green lights appeared over the trees and a brilliant landing light came on, illuminating the landscape. The downwash whipped at them as an MV-22B Marine Osprey settled in over the grass runway and softly touched down. The back ramp opened up and two Army Special Forces soldiers bounded out toward them. The first soldier handed a stack of clothes and a set of boots to Honi.
“Uniform for the lady. Compliments of the United States Army. You can change on board, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
The four of them followed the two soldiers up the ramp, which closed just as the Osprey lifted off. The landing light and the running lights were turned off as the aircraft went dark for its approach against the target. Each soldier turned his back as Honi changed into her new uniform.
“Everything fit?” Jake asked.
“Perfectly.”
Everyone settled in for the half-hour flight to the Phoenix Organization’s communications facility. The Osprey rose and fell as it skipped over the terrain. Within a few minutes, three other Ospreys joined up next to them, one on the right and two on the left. At ten minutes before the attack, a soldier on each side of the Osprey opened the side panels and clamped the high-speed Dillon M134D Gatling Guns into position. They connected the curved ammunition feeders to the side of the weapons, plugged in the power cords, and started them up.
“Ready on the left,” a soldier yelled over the noise.
“Ready on the right,” the other soldier echoed.
Honi stood and looked out the left side panel.
“What the hell is that?” she shouted. She motioned for Jake to join her.
In the distance in front of them, Jake and Honi saw a glowing disc rise out of the darkness of the trees, and start moving off to the left at high speed.
“UFO, ma’am,” the left-side gunner said. “I’ve seen ‘em before. Just pray it keeps on going. They’re real nasty to deal with, ma’am.”
She turned to Jake. “Well,” she said with a smile on her face. “At least we know we’re in the right place.”
CHAPTER 19
Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken strapped on their helmets and powered up their night-vision systems. Everything appeared in various shades of green, with heat sources particularly bright.
“We’re goin’ in!” the left-side gunner shouted. “Air support is sixty seconds out.”
Soldiers ran from the building below and started shooting at the Ospreys with automatic weapons. The Osprey gunners returned fire with the Gatling Guns. The hand-held weapons used by the men on the ground fired 10 rounds per second. The Gatling Guns on the Ospreys fired 50 rounds per second. The difference was decisive. Jake and Honi watched as the Osprey gunners swept over the soldiers running out of the building. Every fifth round fired from the Gatling Gun was a tracer, with a small amount of phosphorus burning at the back end of the bullet. The effect in the night-vision goggles was an almost constant beam of bright green light streaming from the Gatling Guns, which allowed the gunners to see where the bullets were going in the dark.
There were two large saucer-shaped objects covered with camo tarps on the ground next to the building. Jake watched as an enemy soldier yanked the tarp off the first saucer and ran into a lowered ramp on the underside of the vehicle.
“Open door!” Jake shouted to the gunner pointing at the saucer closest to the building. “Focus your fire into the open door!”
The gunner swept his fire into the doorway as the ramp began closing.