First Strike

Five seconds separated the two at launch, but that might decrease slightly during flight time.

In the next instant, Armstrong’s heart sung with joy. It was a small blip of light on-screen, searing, the pattern of the pixels lingering on the retina for seconds afterward. Small, but intensely brilliant.

“Interception!” The targeting coordinator’s voice was jubilant. “Oh, dear God, we got it.”

Armstrong slumped back in his chair as relief washed through him. They got it — it had taken two shots, something they would spend months and months poring over and analyzing, but they got it. Whatever the warhead, it was now reduced to its components high in the atmosphere where they would be disbursed by the jet stream. They would watch, of course, but most biological and chemical weapons have notoriously short life spans. The nuclear, well, that might take a while longer, but there would be more than enough nations monitoring it.

“Senior Chief Armstrong, I don’t know if you’re listening. But, if you are, my congratulations.” Coyote was almost howling, he was so jubilant. “Damned fine job, gentlemen — damned fine.” Someone produced champagne. Armstrong took a glass and bemusedly wondered what corporate planner had thought to stock it and when. Surely it had not happened in the last sixteen hours? No, and the fact chilled him, that someone had foreseen the possibility of this happening and had made provisions for it. Did they also stock sackcloth and ashes, in the case of failure? Or grief counselors, perhaps? Someone who would insist that they share their feelings, bond, and do all that other happy horseshit?

Bill Carter pounded him on the back, spilling some of the champagne, but nobody cared. “You did it! You did it!”

“We did it,” Armstrong corrected, and walked over to clink his glass with the weapons coordinator. “We did it.”

One final thought struck him. He had prayed that their system would work, that they would shoot the missile down. But had there been someone on the other end praying that it would work?

TWENTY-FOUR

Bermuda

Monday, November 13

1200 local (GMT-4)

Late fall had been unusually mild on the island. Tombstone walked down the sand near the edge of the water. Waves rushed over his toes, straining sand out from beneath his feet, then deposited it around his ankles. He felt like he was sinking into the earth and that if he stood there long enough he would eventually disappear beneath the beach.

He had been walking for two hours, conscious of being very alone, and trying to sort out what had happened over the last two weeks. Evidence of the conflict was everywhere on the island. In the distance ahead of him, he could see a black pile of twisted metal, the remains of a Russian MiG shot down in the second air battle. It was cordoned off with yellow police tape with an MP standing guard. The American casualty teams were dispersed throughout the island, counting and identifying casualties and preparing the mortal remains for transfer.

Instead of returning to Jefferson, Tombstone had reconsidered his options. Yes, he was certain he could get the MiG back down on deck. Certain of his own skill, at least. The airframe itself, after the death-defying pullout from the spin, he was not so certain about. Surely her metal had been stressed beyond anything her designers had intended. Was he willing to bet that she would hold together for another carrier landing?

No, he decided. She had done more than anyone could ask any airframe. So, he’d turned away from the carrier and headed back toward land. A military air traffic controller was in charge in the tower, but he was evidently getting guidance from the naval forces. Tombstone had done a flyby, waggling his wings to indicate loss of communications, and then turned in on a standard approach pattern. His IFF was set to the code indicating communications difficulties as well, and he hoped that the tower’s gear was still operative.

It had not taken the American Marines long to completely retake the island. The air control tower at the airport had been the last holdout. When the American forces had finally broken in, they’d found that the Russians were already dead. The man who was apparently their commander had executed them, then himself.

And now what? Tombstone stopped walking and turned to look up at the sun. Was Tomboy alive? Would he ever see her again?

His uncle had not been so sure. He had become convinced that the photo of Tomboy was a fake, just another way to stir up doubt and contention within the United States.

But why? Over Bermuda? No, that didn’t make sense. What possible motive could they have for trying to make America believe that Russia was holding American POWs?

The sun beat down on his face, forcing him to shut his eyes. He could still feel the heat on his eyelids and see the afterimage of the sun on his retinas.

If she’s alive, I’ll find her. I have somewhere to start now — I will find her.

GLOSSARY

0–3 LEVEL The third deck above the main deck. Designations for decks above the main deck (also known as the damage control deck) begin with zero (e.g., 0–3). The zero is pronounced as “oh” in conversation. Decks below the main deck do not have the initial zero, and are numbered down from the main deck (e.g., deck 11 is below deck 3). Deck 0–7 is above deck 0–3.

1MC The general announcing system on a ship or submarine. Every ship has many different interior communications systems, most of them linking parts of the ship for a specific purpose. Most operate off sound-powered phones. The circuit designators consist of a number followed by two letters that indicate the specific purpose of the circuit (e.g., 2AS might be an antisubmarine warfare circuit that connects the sonar supervisor, the USW watch officer, and the sailor at the torpedo launched).

AIR BOSS A senior commander or captain assigned to the aircraft carrier, in charge of flight operations. The “Boss” is assisted by the Mini-Boss in Pri-Fly, located in the tower on board the carrier. The Air Boss is always in the tower during flight operations, overseeing the launch and recovery cycles, declaring a green deck, and monitoring the safe approach of aircraft to the carrier.

AIR WING Composed of the aircraft squadrons assigned to the battle group. The individual squadron commanding officers report to the Air Wing commander, who reports to the admiral.

AIRDALE Slang for an officer or enlisted person in the aviation fields. Includes pilots, NFOs, aviation intelligence officers, and maintenance officers and the enlisted technicians who support aviation. The antithesis of an airdale is a “shoe.”

AKULA Late model Russian-built attack nuclear submarine, an SSN is fast, deadly, and deep diving.

ALR-67 Detects, analyzes, and evaluates electromagnetic signals, and emits a warning signal if the parameters are compatible with an immediate threat to the aircraft (e.g., seeker head on an antiair missile). Can also detect an enemy radar in either a search or a targeting mode.

ALTITUDE Is safety. With enough air space under the wings, a pilot can solve any problem.

AMRAAM Advanced Medium Range Anti Air Missile.

ANGELS Thousands of feet over ground. Angels twenty is 20,000 feet. Cherubs indicates hundreds of feet (e.g., cherubs five is 500 feet).

ASW Antisubmarine Warfare, recently renamed Undersea Warfare.

AVIONICS Black boxes and systems that comprise an aircraft’s combat systems.

AW Aviation antisubmarine warfare technician, the enlisted specialist flying in an S-3, P- 3, or helo USW aircraft. As this book goes to press, there is discussion of renaming the specialty.

AWACS An aircraft entirely too good for the Air Force, the Advanced Warning Aviation