Malibu minutes before, when they’d been jumped by a pair of Fulcrums.
“I’m clear and I’m moving in.”
“See if you can cut this guy off. You take the left, I’ll stay on his
right.”
“Rog.”
Half a mile ahead and below, the Fulcrum was pulling out of its dive and
cutting to the right. Batman brought his stick over, trying to lead the
Russian with a tighter turn to starboard. A thousand feet off the deck,
the Fulcrum hurtled past an American helicopter carrier, the huge LHA
Nassau.
Batman had just switched back to missiles when the hurtling Russian
interceptor disintegrated in midair, silvery fragments spraying out like
a shotgun blast, then ignited in a billowing cloud of orange flame.
“Scratch that MiG,” Malibu said in Batman’s headset. “I think he just
got nailed by one of Nassau’s CIWS.”
“I think you’re right.” He pulled the F-14 up sharply. Phalanx
point-defense systems sometimes had trouble telling the good guys from
the bad, and Batman had no wish to fly into its deadly, mile-deep kill
zone.
Pulling level at six thousand feet, Batman checked his stores. They’d
launched with four Phoenix, two AMRAAMs, and a pair of Sidewinders.
They were down to two AIM-54s and one each of the others. “Talk to me,
Malibu,” he said. “Where’s a target? Gimme some ass to kick.”
“Nothing close. I think the leakers all got capped. I’ll see if I can
tag a Hawkeye for a vector.”
Strickland’s Tomcat drew alongside to the left. Looking across the
distance separating them, Batman could see Striker in the front seat,
K-Bar in the back, the numerals 211 of the other aircraft’s modex number
vivid on its nose.
“How’s the score standing now, Batman?” Striker asked.
Batman shook his head. “I got four, but two of ’em were Phoenix kills
at extreme range, and we might not get credit.” With so many missiles in
the air at the same time, it was sometimes difficult to assess whose
AIM-54s had killed which enemy aircraft. “I don’t know how Brewer did.”
“Why not ask her?” Brewer’s voice cut in. Brewer’s 218 Tomcat pulled in
on the right. “What, Batman? Only two confirmed kills? You’re
slipping.
Pogie’n me got four already! Fox threes, every one!”
“Tracked ’em all the way to target,” Damiano added. “And no others
anywhere close, so we know we scored.”
“Nuggets’ luck,” Malibu said.
“Yeah,” Batman added. “What’s that make it now, Brewer? Nine to
eight?”
“Nice try, Batman,” Brewer replied. “We’re still only counting
confirmed kills. Make that nine to six!”
“Damn, Batman,” Malibu said, sounding hurt. “We can’t let a mere slip
of a girl do this to us!”
“I’ll ‘slip-of-a-girl’ you, Mal.”
“Gee, I don’t know, Batman,” Malibu said. “What do you think? I don’t
feel these Phoenix kills should count, do you? I mean, did John Wayne
shoot down a bad guy from a hundred miles away? We oughta just keep
score on the ones that’re up close and personal!”
“Uh-uh,” Brewer replied, and Batman heard her chuckle. “No changing the
bet. Score’s nine to six, women’s advantage.”
“I think we’re being taken, Malibu. These women nowadays. You can’t-”
“Gold Eagles, Gold Eagles, this is Eagle Two-oh-one,” Coyote’s voice
said, cutting in. “Gather in, chicks. Time to head for home.”
“Two-oh-one, Two-oh-two,” Batman called. “Hey, Coyote! What’s the
gouge?”
“Batman, Coyote. We’re going back in by squadrons for refuel and rearm,
and we’re up first in the Marshall Stack.”
“On our way. Are the bad guys gone?”
“Most of ’em. But we’re leaving the ones that’re left to the Ike and
the Nimitz. We’ve got other fish to fry.”
“Two-oh-one, Two-one-one,” Strickland called. “What fish did you have
in mind?”
“The skipper’s got a job for us, Striker,” Coyote said. “And man, if
you’ve been having fun so far, you’re gonna love this!”
1535 hours
Viper ready room
U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Lieutenant Chris Hanson slumped back into her chair in VF-95’s ready
room, aware of the rustle and thump of other NFOs filing in, aware of
the murmuring conversations around her, but mostly aware only of how
tired she was. It seemed like the Vipers had been on alert for years.
She’d been aloft on CAP last night until 0730 that morning, had just