overcame the aircraft’s inertia and the Prowler accelerated from a
leisurely roll to a thundering bolt down the deck.
Fourteen seconds later, it was over. The catapult officer stared
toward the bow, watched the aircraft disappear from view as it briefly
lost altitude, then saw it reappear as it struggled for airspeed. The
angle of ascent was minimal at first, gradually steepening as the
Prowler overcame gravity.
Seconds later, another Prowler shot off the bow cat, gained altitude,
and joined its wingman as they ascended.
Two down twenty-seven to go. The catapult officer turned his attention
aft. The JBDs were already lowered, and two Tomcats were taxiing
forward eagerly.
It was going to be a long morning.
Thirty minutes later, the deck was still and quiet. The carrier had
launched two Prowlers, fourteen Tomcats, and ten FA-18s. Additionally,
another EA6 had gotten airborne to replace one that was experiencing
difficulties with its CAINS system. Add to that total two KA 6
tankers, and the carrier had a full alpha strike package in the air.
Back behind the carrier, a SAR helo kept station. The catapult officer
glanced down at his schedule and frowned. One helo was already
airborne why did the schedule call for another?
He wasn’t entirely certain, but he suspected it might have something to
do with the small boat launched in the wee hours from the carrier’s aft
deck. No matter he hadn’t been briefed on it; therefore, he had no
need to know. All he did was launch ’em-it was up to someone else to
decide the whys. He glanced up at the tower. And to get them back on
deck.
The second helo’s launch was markedly anti climatic after so many
jets.
It quivered slightly on the deck, jolted once, then crept up into the
air. It moved slightly to port, away from the carrier and over open
water, and began gaining altitude. The catapult officer watched from
his enclosed bubble as it headed out due west until it was merely a
speck on the horizon.
Not that it ought to be flying at all, the catapult officer thought.
As an F/A-18 pilot himself, he took it as an article of faith that a
helicopter had no more right to be airborne than a bumblebee. Only
problem was, no one had bothered to tell either the bug or the helo. A
collection of one thousand parts flying in close proximity to each
other. He shuddered at the old gibe it was too close for comfort. No,
give him speeds in excess of Mach 1 and two wings full of weapons over
a helicopter anytime. Speed meant safety.
0440 Local (+5 GMT) Fuentes Naval Base “No, I didn’t bring any doggy
biscuits. So shoot me.”
Huerta’s voice sounded sharp for the first time since the mission had
begun. “How the hell was I supposed to know?”
“Well, do something,” Pamela hissed. She gestured toward the east.
“When does the sun come up, anyway?”
None of them bothered to answer the question. They still had some
time. Not enough, but the covering darkness would last at least
another hour. After that, the first traces of light would start
illuminating the compound, increasing the danger of detection
logarithmically.
“We’re going to have to wait for a moment, then,” Sikes said, his voice
low and quiet. He glanced at his watch.
“Another eight minutes, I think. Then we use the silencers.”
“Why not use them now?” Pamela demanded.
Sikes saw the tension in her face, and saw her start to move before she
even shifted her weight by much. He grabbed her by the elbow, his hand
a steel band around her upper arm, and dragged her back down to the
ground. “You shut up and stay under cover or you’ll jeopardize the
whole mission. I don’t want you here but we’ve got a job to do.
You’re not gonna screw it up, not like you did before. Now shut up.”
“But what are you,” she began.
Huerta slapped one massive hand across her mouth, catching her head in
the crooK of his arm.” you heard the commander,” he said. “You stay
quiet voluntarily or I crush your larynx.” He smiled congenially. “I