He’d be left with only manual hydraulics, if that. And no electronics
whatsoever. That meant he couldn’t fire missile shell, he’d be lucky if
the EMP didn’t trip something in the fire control circuitry and
inadvertently ignite something while they were on the wings.
“Nukes. My God. And if they miss, or don’t fire?” He let his voice
trail off.
“Then we’re in the middle of the biggest political cluster-fuck in
twenty years,” Tomboy finished. “Tombstone, that command center it’s
gotta be destroyed. And we can’t trust a UAV that’s never been tested
in combat to do it.”
His RIO his wife was making eminently good sense.
There was no longer any question in his mind about BDA.
What he needed now was complete and total destruction of the command
center before it could launch weapons possibly nuclear weapon sat the
continental U.S. Furthermore, he needed to make that happen before the
United States was tempted to use its mobile nuclear arsenal, now
circling, he suspected, in the skies over Cuba.
“You’re right,” he said softly. He paused for a moment, then asked,
“Are you up for this? You know it’s dangerous.”
Tomboy’s voice was calm and level. “You know I’m in.
We’re all in this together. Tombstone. This was our role in life
before we met each other, and right now it’s more important than
anything I’ve ever done. Except maybe no, let’s go on,” she concluded
firmly.
Something in her tone of voice bothered him, but he let it pass,
pressed as he was by the need for an immediate decision on the
mission.
As pilot in command, he had the ultimate say-so in where the Tomcat
went and how she executed her mission. And in this case, that would
include disobeying orders from the rightful battle group commander. He
flipped the switch back over to the tactical circuit. “Batman, you’re
coming in weak and broken. I can’t read you at all.” He felt oddly
amused at that old, hoary trick that pilots and aviators used
everywhere for avoiding complying with directions from the ground they
didn’t like.
Batman knew the ploy, too. “Damn it, Stoney, don’t you pull this
crap,” he roared, his rage clearly evident over the crystal-clear
circuit. “You’re not having radio problems.
Don’t you even” “Switching to secondary,” Tombstone announced calmly.
“Home Plate, this is Tomcat Two-zero-two, switching to secondary.
Primary circuit is weak and broken, possibly from some form of, uh .
.
. sunspot interference. Yes, sunspots. I do believe that’s it.”
Tombstone switched the radio off.
“What will he do?” Tomboy asked softly. “I know he doesn’t believe
you.”
“You’re almost right he doesn’t believe me about the radio, but he does
believe I’m going to ignore his orders. It’s up to him now. Give me a
vector back to the command post.”
Tomboy spieled off a series of numbers, directions, and speeds, and
Tombstone jerked the Tomcat around in a tight turn. He finished off
with a barrel roll just for the hell of it, not bothering to let Tomboy
know about it beforehand. Her yelp from the backseat registered her
protest.
“Ten minutes,” Tomboy said, her voice still a few notes higher than
normal. Among other things that he’d have to pay for the barrel roll
would be among them.
“See if you can find that UAV for me,” Tombstone said.
“It’s probably over water, though I gather it’s inside the twelve-mile
territorial limits. If it weren’t. Batman wouldn’t be as worried as
he is about us bustering out of here we’d have a little bit more
time.”
“No sign of it,” Tomboy said promptly. “I’ve been scanning for it in
tracking mode ever since Batman mentioned it. Those little bastards
are hard as hell to find, Stoney. I wouldn’t count on our gaining
contact.”
Unless we’re both inbound on the same target area and our separation
decreases dramatically, he added silently.
That may be the first time we’ll get contact on it as we’re both
launching at the target. And if that little bastard is nuclear. God
help me. And Tomboy. Again, something in her comments over the last
few minutes, coupled with an odd sense of resignation in her voice,