missile, instantly crushing one wall of the silo.
The silo collapsed, pinching the missile at its waist and holding it in
position. Tombstone saw the silo shudder, then break in half. Its
forward portion had not even hit the ground when the area erupted in an
orange fireball.
Tombstone jinked the Tomcat away from the scene, satisfied. Three up,
three down.
“Good shooting, Stoney,” Tomboy said. “Glad I came along for the
ride.”
“I’m glad you did, too, love,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have had
you miss it for the world.”
“How about we grab a quick drink and buster back to the carrier?”
Tomboy suggested.
“Next stop, Texaco,” Tombstone said. He felt his spirits lift with the
Tomcat as they rose into the air.
07:15 Local (+5 GMT) Washington, D.C. “That’s it, then.” Senator
Dailey’s voice sounded relieved.
“At least until next time.” He turned to the admiral standing next to
him. “What about you, Keith? I’m not going to forget what you did
here today.”
Admiral Keith Loggins shook his head. “I was stupid, criminally
stupid.” He glanced up at the senator. “Ambition, personal power I
forgot the oath that I took so long ago to protect this country. Those
things . . . well, maybe that’s okay in your world. Senator no
disrespect intended, sir.
But for us there’s got to be a higher purpose in life. We’re here to
prevent wars, not start them. If we let personalities get in the way
of that, let our own personal ambition override our sound operational
thought, then we deserve what we get.” He looked back toward the
console from which Senator Williams had launched the weapon. “You
understand that. He never would have.”
“Maybe our worlds aren’t all that different, Keith,” the senator
said.
“Or at least, they shouldn’t be. If you’ve got a moment during the
next few days, I’d like to spend some time talking about what
happened.
Maybe we can work out some ways to avoid its happening again, some
approaches toward preventing the command and control structure from
getting in the way of the operational commander. I think we’ve both
learned a lesson out of this one.”
“I’d like that. Senator, although how much longer I’ll be in the
service I couldn’t say.” The admiral shrugged, then felt a weight lift
off his shoulders. “It might be time to retire.
Hell, three stars is enough for any man, don’t you think?
And Pamela well, it might be fun to spend some time alone with my new
wife.”
Senator Dailey looked startled. He quickly rearranged his ; face into
a look of congratulations. “Well, that is good news.
When’s the big date? I will be getting an invitation, I hope?”
Admiral Loggins smiled. “I haven’t asked her yet, Tom.
But nowwell, I’m starting to see things in a different light. And yes,
if she’ll have me, you can count on an invitation. We’d be honored by
your presence.”
The two men shook hands, the grip hard and certain. The disaster
they’d diverted today had cemented their friendship.
0718 Local (+5 GMT) Fulcrum 101
Santana heard one last yelp on the tactical circuit connecting him with
the Cuban naval base, and then the hissing silence that indicated the
transponder on the other end was destroyed. He swore, jinked his MiG
around in an impossibly tight curve, and nailed the Hornet that had
been glued onto him like a leech with a withering barrage of gunfire.
He was so close he caught a brief glimpse of the other pilot’s face,
partially masked by helmet and visor, before the entire cockpit
disintegrated into a scathingly hot ball of metal, flames, and flesh.
The base! That was the key. There was no point to this losing air
battle if he and his compadres didn’t buy enough time for the missiles
to ripple off their launchers. The air battle was not winnable, not in
the long run. There was too much firepower massed off the coast, too
many fighters waiting in the wings to relieve their battle-weary front
line.
Not that it looked so injured, he had to admit. Results thus far had
been startlingly disappointing. Even though they had practiced MiG on