He started to press the button to reply when he heard Jug’s voice. “US Navy warship, this is US Navy aircraft call sign Devil One. I am in a turn to the north, do not fire on me.”
Jug’s jet banked left, and Colt turned to follow him, putting distance between them and the aircraft carrier. “Should we tell them about the missiles?”
“Shit. I don’t know.”
On the one hand, neither pilot wanted the carrier to be caught with its pants down with two anti-ship cruise missiles skimming the water’s surface to sink it. But, on the other, if they admitted they had launched the missiles, Alpha Whiskey would likely declare them as hostile and target them with birds.
After several seconds, Colt finally spoke. “I think we have to.”
“I don’t know, man.”
But Colt didn’t give Jug the chance to argue. “US Navy warship, this is US Navy aircraft call sign Devil Two. You have two anti-ship cruise missiles targeting the carrier—”
The rest of his transmission was drowned out by the high-pitched tone of his radar warning receiver.
“They’ve locked us up!”
Beth hadn’t even had time to sit in her chair in the middle of the Combat Information Center when the sailors operating the Aegis system identified two additional contacts. The chief continued manipulating the radar’s controls while speaking quietly into his headset. “Two new contacts. Track Numbers Seven One Eight Seven and Six Five Eight Two, high supersonic and descending rapidly. Suspected cruise missiles.”
Beth bolted forward across the darkened space and stared at the large screen showing the air picture around the Mobile Bay. “Status on the first two contacts,” she said.
“Turning north,” the sailor replied.
“Any response to our queries?”
Almost as if in answer to her request, she heard a pilot’s voice come over the speaker. “US Navy warship, this is US Navy aircraft call sign Devil One. I am in a turn to the north, do not fire on me.”
“What about the new contacts?” she asked.
“Passing ten thousand feet. Over one thousand miles per hour.”
She glanced over to the Master Chief, who held a phone to his ear, waiting for word from the Weapons Officer who was trying to reach somebody at the Naval Air Weapons Station in China Lake. The aircraft had identified itself using the test aircraft’s call sign, but the two new contacts were heading in the opposite direction of the former Bonhomme Richard.
You are the captain…
Shit!
She took a deep breath and spoke in a deliberately calm voice that carried across the room. “Kill Track Numbers Seven One Eight Seven and Six Five Eight Two. Monitor the first two contacts.”
“Aye aye, ma’am,” Martin said, then spun back to his console.
Based on the information she had available and the flight profiles of the two new contacts, she was relatively certain they were both cruise missiles. Whether they had targeted the carrier was irrelevant in her mind; she felt confident she could defend her decision to a board of inquiry if it ended up being the wrong choice.
“Missile one away,” Martin said. “Missile two away.”
She looked up at the display showing the symbols that represented two RIM-174 Standard Extended Range Active Missiles leaving the ship’s vertical launcher to intercept the cruise missiles. She still felt good about her decision, but the other two contacts were another story altogether. She would make the same call if it came to that, but there was no way she was going to authorize launching one of her surface-to-air missiles at a known American aircraft unless she was one hundred percent certain their intentions were hostile.
In the brief silence that followed, she heard another voice come over the speaker. “US Navy warship, this is US Navy aircraft call sign Devil Two. You have two anti-ship cruise missiles targeting the carrier…”
She didn’t wait for the rest of the transmission. “Target Track Numbers One Eight Four Five and Two Four One Eight!”
“Aye, ma’am!”
Again, she looked at Ben. “Master Chief! I need answers!”
Colt saw Jug engage his afterburner, and he matched him by advancing his throttle to the fire wall and nosing over to gain speed. Both pilots wanted to build as much separation as possible between them and the guided-missile cruiser targeting them. The radar warning receiver continued screeching at him, but the tone hadn’t changed to indicate a missile had been fired yet.
“US Navy warship!” Colt shouted. “This is Devil Two. You are targeting a US Navy emergency aircraft squawking the appropriate code and complying with your instructions. Do not fire!”
“Devil Two, continue flowing north,” the emotionless voice said.
Colt slammed his fist against the canopy in frustration, then looked down at his Panoramic Cockpit Display to assess his fuel state. If they continued flowing north, he would run out of gas before he could recover at Point Mugu, and he knew Jug’s situation was even more dire. “Jug, what’s your state?”
There was a pause. “Not good. I’m on fumes.”
Looking at his moving map, he selected the closest base. “Can you make North Island?”
“I don’t think so.”
Jug took his jet out of afterburner, and Colt angled his jet to rendezvous on Jug’s left side, closing to within a mile. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to shooting the darkened Joint Strike Fighter out of the sky. And now he needed to somehow convince Alpha Whiskey they weren’t a threat so he could get them to an airfield and land before fuel starvation caused them to flame out.
Dividing his time between flying formation and coming up with a solution, he looked down at the moving map display again and saw the narrow island representing the northern portion of the Southern California Offshore Range. The auxiliary landing field on the north end of San Clemente Island was their best bet.
“Let’s circle back and descend for San Clemente,” Colt suggested.
“They’re not gonna like it.”
Colt double-clicked the microphone switch to let Jug know he’d heard him, then did his best to assuage the cruiser crew’s concerns. “US Navy warship, this is Devil Two. We are emergency aircraft descending to land at San Clemente Island. Do not fire on us. I say again, do not fire!”
The response was immediate. “Devil Two, if you turn south, you will be engaged. Continue flowing north.”
Dammit!
Colt asked Jug, “What do you think, brother?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been shot at tonight.”
Click. Click.
Colt fell back in trail and allowed Devil One to take the lead. Jug began a right-hand turn and descended for the airfield only thirty miles behind them. In most situations, he would have felt comfortable with where they were, but with the glowing FUEL LO caution staring him in the face from the Integrated Caution, Advisory and Warning System, he knew he was in an even more precarious position than his wingman.
“Buzzer on,” Jug said.
Here we go.
52
When the flashlight turned on and illuminated a dark-haired woman dressed in camouflage, Punky reacted on instinct and shifted the pistol’s front sight post to center mass. Out of habit, she shouted a command for the woman to freeze, but when she recognized the stubby submachine gun in her hand, she pressed back on the trigger.