impersonation on you again.”
“Concur.” Bird Dog descended back down to five hundred feet,
carefully staying three miles away from the submarine. “He’s going to have
to overfly, then come right or left to turn and come back over him.” Bird
Dog kicked into afterburner range, felt the Tomcat leap forward and shove
him back in the seat. “Suppose we just meet him down at the end of his
racetrack?”
The Tomcat overshot his prey, then pulled up into a tight starboard
orbit three miles in front of the Bear. Two minutes later, as the Bear
started its turn back toward its guardian submarine, Bird Dog toggled the
last Sidewinder off of the wing from an altitude of two hundred feet.
The missile had less than one mile to go to reach its target. Even if
the Bear had had some other tactic in mind, there was no time. Bird Dog
saw the Bear frantically ejecting flares and chaff, hoping to decoy the
Sidewinder, but the missile flew a perfect profile straight into the
engines beckoning so loudly in the infrared spectrum. Bird Dog yanked the
Tomcat up just as the Bear disintegrated into a flaming mass of metal and
machinery. “Scratch one Bear,” Gator said. “Good shot.”
“Do me a favor, Gator. Just one–I’ll never ask anything of you
again.”
“What?”
“Let’s just tell the boat that the missiles fell off the damned wings
or something. I’m never going to live it down if the skipper finds out I
shot a full load at that damned Bear.”
“Let’s go find us some gas. I’ll think about it.”
Bird Dog groaned.
CHAPTER 15
Friday, 30 December
1230 Local
TOmcat 201
Bird Dog plugged and sucked on the tanker uneventfully. The sight of
fuel gauges indicating a full load gave him a definite sense of comfort.
At loitering speed, that bought them at least four hours in which to decide
what to do. By that time, hopefully the carrier would have gotten the
terrorist situation under control. Absent any other good plan, Bird Dog
headed for the starboard marshall stack, entering it at the standard
altitude and commencing to orbit.
“That submarine would explain a good deal about the carrier’s
cooperation with those terrorists,” Gator said. “Having a cruise missile
sitting on your ass is no joke.”
“We were loaded up for anti-air,” Bird Dog swore. “A couple of
Rockeyes on the wings would have been a hell of a lot more help a little
while ago.”
“Well, why don’t we go back and get some?” Gator asked. “After all,
we don’t seem to have any weapons at all right now.”
“Trap on the carrier?”
“You have somewhere else in mind? There aren’t a whole hell of a lot
of choices out here, Bird Dog,” Gator said sarcastically. “Besides, you
have any better ideas?”
Bird Dog shook his head. He might not have a good idea, but he could
see a hell of a lot that could go wrong with this one. Who knew how much
control the carrier had over its own flight operations, with the terrorists
on board? Additionally, what were the odds that they could land, get
rearmed, and launch again without someone objecting?
“I guess it’s worth asking about,” he said finally. “Who do we have
comms with?”
“just the air boss. From what he says, he hasn’t heard from the
bridge, Combat, or TFCC in twenty minutes. I think that’s probably a good
indicator of their tactical status.”
“If they don’t have control of the bridge, how are they gonna get us
the right winds to land?”
“What, a little wind bothering you now? We can land in just about
anything except a tailwind, you know. Still, well, let’s give them a call
and see what they think of the idea. We’ll worry about the details later.”
Bird Dog picked up the radio to contact the air boss. As crazy as it
sounded, if the Tomcat could do something about the submarine on the
carrier’s tail, it might improve the situation.
1231 Local
USS Jefferson
The air boss shifted uneasily in his seat and glared down at the deck.
With the carrier heading west, the anemometer indicated a tailwind of