“Break right! Altitude–now!” he snapped, tactical reflexes taking over
for considered thought.
Bird Dog obeyed instantly, wrenching the aircraft through a tight
turn, slamming the throttles forward, and immediately climbing for
altitude. “What-”
“Missile inbound,” Gator said sharply, his eyes now locked on the
small, glowing blip on his radar screen. “At least that’s what it looks
like. We already know they have Stingers–I don’t want to take any
chances.”
“Holy shit,” Bird Dog breathed. “You mean-”
“Get us the fuck out of here, Bird Dog,” Gator snarled, his temper
barely under control. “You want to discuss the finer points of Stinger
weaponry, let’s do it at thirty thousand feet. Right now, I’m a little
busy back here.” The RIO’s hands flew over the controls, ejecting flares
and chaff into the wake behind them.
“And if they had any doubts about where we were, we just fixed that,”
Bird Dog said unhappily. “We just lit up that night sky like it was
mid-June.”
1150 Local
Aflu
White Wolf gasped as the night exploded into fiery brilliance. The
sun–no, five suns–no, wait. He shut his eyes as the light bombarded his
painfully dilated pupils. Not suns at all, not some relic from an old
legend, but flares.
The Americans. Pride and vindication coursed through his soul as his
prediction of American aid proved to be true. It had to be them. The
intruders would have shunned the light, and would not have left their
patrols out wandering randomly had more forces been expected.
He focused on the man patrolling, now halfway between the western edge
of the island and the cliff. He stood still, his head thrown back as he
stared at the flares, his night vision completely destroyed. White Wolf
debated with himself for just a moment, then concluded his southern
counterpart would arrive at the same decision. “Shut your eyes,” he said
sharply, quietly. His men obeyed instantly. A few of them ducked their
faces down in the crook of their elbows, understanding what White Wolf was
trying to accomplish.
The flares would last no longer than five minutes, not nearly enough
time for the patrol to reach their location. In addition, any man that
exited the ice cavern would immediately be blinded as well. The Inuits, on
the other hand, by shielding their faces, were preserving their night
vision. The moment the flares went out, they would be well prepared to
attack immediately, and could take advantage of the element of surprise.
But for the plan to work, one man had to watch and see when the flares
disappeared. He sighed, resigning himself to being left out of the fight.
Younger bodies, faster feet would do the fighting this time. He watched
the man, keeping the flares in sight in his peripheral vision. He waited.
Tomcat 201
“It fell off,” Gator reported, studying his radar screen. “if you
know they’re coming, if you catch them in time, those suckers aren’t too
bad to outrun. Nothing like a Sidewinder or Sparrow.”
“But just as bad if it gets us.” Bird Dog leveled off at eight
thousand feet, just above the tops of the clouds. In the background, he
could hear TAO on Jefferson demanding an explanation. Not only had Bird
Dog left his assigned altitude, but the erratic movements and changes in
altitude had caused alarm on board the carrier.
“You tell ’em what happened,” Bird Dog said, his eyes still glued
downward. “I have a feeling there’s something else I’m supposed to see,
and I’m not getting it.”
Aflu
“Now,” White Wolf whispered urgently. The seven men around him sprang
up as the last light from the flares faded. Opening their eyes, the
landscape around them came into sharp focus.
To his left, White Wolf could see men pouring out of the ice cavern
and fanning across the landscape. White Wolf’s second in command took
charge, leading the attack with several silent, deadly arrows into the
throats of the men nearest to him. They fell, unnoticed by their comrades
ahead of them.
Moments later, the inevitable happened. The man in the lead glanced
back, noticed two men lying in the snow, and sounded the alarm. As he did
so, the Inuits rose up from concealment and charged down the slope, firing