moving long-range targets, and maybe a FlightHawk to use as a slow-moving air-to-air target.”
“Good,” Daren said. “So we’ll have two Wolverines in the forward bay.”
“Make it four,” Grey said.
“Okay, four,” Daren said. “One FlightHawk in the aft bay and a rotary launcher with two Scorpions, two Anacondas, and… what’s the third target for?”
“Lancelot,” Grey said. “Two Lancelots. You
“Let’s find out,” Daren said. He touched his earpiece again. “Duty Officer, am I cleared to launch Lancelot missiles?”
“Stand by, Colonel Mace…. That is affirmative, sir. You are cleared to employ all expendables authorized for the squadron.”
“Cool,” Daren remarked. “Can’t wait to pop one of those babies off. What do you have for precision-guided standoff missiles nowadays, Zane?”
“We fly the AGM-165B Longhorn for short-range, operator-aimed, precision-guided missions,” Grey replied.
“Outstanding. Duty Officer, I want one FlightHawk unarmed target UCAV with telemetry, four unarmed Wolverine target cruise missiles with telemetry, two Scorpion missiles with telemetry payloads, two Anaconda missiles with telemetry, two Longhorn missiles with target-marking warheads, and two Lancelot missiles with telemetry payloads loaded in my sortie right away,” he said into his earpiece. “Request two ground targets on the Tonopah range—”
“One fixed, one moving,” Grey said. He was getting into it now.
“One fixed target, one moving target.”
“Yes, Colonel Mace. Please stand by, I will request authorization.” The reply did not take long. “Colonel Mace, Colonel Long has denied your request for training weapons for your sortie.”
“Duty Officer, pass the request to General Furness,” Daren responded.
“Yes, Colonel Mace. Please stand by.”
“Oh, crap,” Grey muttered. “The shit’s going to hit the fan now, sir.”
He was right. It did not take long for John Long to burst back into the lounge, his eyes burning with anger. “You son of a bitch!” Long shouted. “What is all this shit about uploading weapons and getting range time? Your task for today is basic flight orientation—”
“I can’t be wasting time on that stuff, John.”
“You will do it because
“John, I’m a bombardier,” Daren said. “I need some range time, I need to fly the jet, and I need to blow some shit up.”
“You can practice all that stuff in the simulators,” Long said. “Now, forget this request for flight time and —”
“I passed my request on to General Furness.”
“You…
“John, I told you, I’ll get your Vampires up and running, and a hell of a lot faster than you’ve got programmed into your timetables,” Mace said, getting to his feet to make a stand in front of the operations-group commander. “But I’m not going to be stuck doing stalls and approaches. I’m a navigator, a bombardier, a systems officer—”
“You will do it my way, Colonel, or you won’t do it at all!” Long barked.
“I need to get up to speed as quickly as I can on employing this squadron for combat,” Daren said. “I’ll venture a guess and say that all the other squadron commanders here have extensive experience in their weapon systems.”
“The rest of my squadron commanders seemed to have been more successful in progressing in their careers, that’s why.”
Daren let that jab roll off his chin. “I’ll also venture a guess and say that, next to Generals McLanahan and Furness, you are the most experienced person on this base in the EB-1A.”
Not exactly true, Long thought, but he did not deny that guess either.
“So I need to do everything I can to learn about the Vampire, and that doesn’t mean waste time with pilot shit. Let me do my thing, John. I promise, this unit will be fully qualified in all aspects. But I need to do it my way.”
“Colonel Mace, this is the duty officer,” the computerized female voice said. “General Furness has approved your request for aerial refueling, low-level training, and live weapons on your sortie. I will coordinate your request with your squadron munitions officer…. Colonel Mace, I am advised by your squadron munitions officer that your request will be handled immediately.”
“Duty Officer, get an estimated time to completion from Captain Weathers on uploading the weapons and relay my sortie timing to me and Lieutenant Grey.” Captain Weathers was the chief of the squadron munitions department.
“Yes, Colonel Mace.” Seconds later: “Colonel Mace, I have a preliminary estimated time of completion from munitions and have planned your sortie timing. Your new step time is eighteen hundred hours Zulu.”
Pretty good, Mace thought, uploading a stack of air-to-air and air-to-ground missiles and unmanned combat aircraft in a B-1 bomber in less than six hours without any notice was shit-hot in any unit, and especially good for a brand-new squadron. “Duty Officer, have Captain Weathers meet us at the aircraft during preflight to brief me on the weapons.”
“Yes, Colonel Mace. Your updated flight-planning materials are available on any terminal using your password. Be advised, your new sortie timing may exceed authorized peacetime-crew duty-day regulations.”
“Duty Officer, request a waiver of crew duty-day regulations.”
“Yes, Colonel Mace.” Moments later John Long got the request in his earpiece.
“You going to approve it, John?” Daren asked. “Or should I go to the general again?”
“You think you can just do whatever you feel like here?” Long growled, his voice shaking with anger. “I guess we know why you’ve been stuck in purgatory all these years since you screwed the pooch in the Sandbox, huh?” He turned and stormed out of the lounge.
Moments later the duty officer reported, “Colonel Mace, Colonel Long has authorized extension of crew duty day to sixteen hours.”
Daren responded with a polite “Thank you,” even though it was only a machine on the other end of the line.
Dean Grey looked at Mace for several moments, hoping he would fill in some details; when he didn’t, the curiosity got the better of him. “You were in Desert Storm, sir?” he asked.
“Yep.” Mace realized with a faint shock that Grey was barely in his teens when that war started.
“Flying what?”
“The Aardvark. SAC version.”
“The FB-111? I didn’t think we used any Strategic Air Command 111s in Desert Storm.”
“We did — and I strongly advise you to not ask any more questions about it,” Daren said seriously. He noticed Grey’s concerned expression. “It’s still classified, and it’ll give you nightmares. We’d better get going with planning this sortie.”
“Yes,
“I’m old school, Zane — I was around when we had a Strategic Air Command, and we in SAC didn’t get call signs back then. I guess the squadron’s going to have to name me.”
“We can do that, skipper,” Grey said with an evil smile. “And we’ll try not to stick with ‘Pappy’ or ‘Granddad.’ “
“I’d appreciate that. Let’s go.”
Six hours was barely enough time to do all the planning they needed for this flight, even with the computerized duty officer’s help, but as the morning wore on and more and more crew members filtered into the
