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He checked Hawk Two—still riding behind the MiGs shadowing the Be
“Be
“I’m going to lose the co
Englehardt didn’t answer. The Flighthawk and her mother ship were moving away from each other at close to a thousand miles an hour—or sixteen a minute.
“Disco
“Be
Starship felt the Megafortress lurch beneath him.
“We’re on it,” said Englehardt.
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293
Near the Chinese-Pakistani border
2340
DANNY FREAH SQUATTED TO ONE SIDE OF THE PASSAGEWAY
between the Osprey’s cockpit and cargo area, watching as the aircraft headed toward the landing zone. He could see the Flighthawk’s red-yellow tracers arcing across the sky. Small bursts of green rose up toward the spray—ground fire.
“What do you think, Captain?” asked one of the pilots.
“I think we’re going in, if you can make it.”
“We can make it.”
Da
“LZ is hot. Show these bastards what the Marine Corps is made of.”
Aboard Dreamland Be
over the Chinese-Indian border
2343
“MIGS ARE TALKING TO THEIR BASE AGAIN,” SULLIVAN TOLD
Englehardt. “I’m betting they don’t like our course change.”
“How close is the Cheli?”
“Their nearest Flighthawk is still ten minutes off.”
Ten more minutes. Englehardt worked his tongue around his mouth, trying to generate a little more moisture for his throat.
“They’re dropping off,” said Sullivan.
For a moment Englehardt felt relieved. The Indians must be low on fuel by now, he thought, and were backing off and going home.
Then he realized that wasn’t the case at all.
“Evasive maneuvers. Give me flares!” he shouted, a second before the missile-launch warning buzzed on the cockpit dash.
STARSHIP WAS JUST ZEROING IN ON A CLUSTER OF SMALL
arms f lashes at the landing zone when the Megafortress 294
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
seemed to plunge beneath him. He kept his hand steady, staying with his target and ignoring the urge to jump back into Hawk Two and battle the MiGs.
The key thing to remember when you’re flying two planes, Zen always said, is to finish one thing at a time.
Zen.
Starship lit the Flighthawk’s ca
He let off on the trigger and pulled up. He didn’t see any more tracers from the ground. If there were more guerrillas there, they’d taken cover.
“Hawk One orbit at 15,000 after targets are destroyed,” he told the computer. “Da
ENGLEHARDT PUSHED HARD ON THE STICK, THROWING HIS
whole body against it. The Megafortress twisted herself hard to comply, jerking to the right and pulling her nose up.
Between the sharp maneuvers and the cascading decoys exploding behind the plane, the heat-seeking missiles the MiGs had fired flew by harmlessly, exploding more than two miles away.
Now it was his turn.
His turn. His brain stuttered, as if it were an electrical switch with contacts that weren’t quite clicking.
“Stinger air mines,” he said. “Sullivan?”
“Targets out of range.”
“Fuck.”
Everyone on the circuit seemed to be hyperventilating.
Englehardt turned his eyes toward the sitrep screen on the lower left portion of his dash. His position was marked out in the center—where were the Flighthawks and the MiGs?
A tremendous fireball flared in the corner of the windscreen—a partial answer to his question.
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295
* * *
STARSHIP BROUGHT UP THE MAIN SCREEN OF HAWK TWO
just in time to see the robot turn away from the MiG it had destroyed.
“Good work, dude,” he told the computer. “I’ll take it from here.”
The second MiG had turned to the east after firing its missiles. Now about twenty miles from the Megafortress, it was banking through a turn that would leave it in position to launch its AMRAAMskis.
“Bandit Two is getting into position to attack,” said Starship over the interphone. “I’m not going to be able to close the gap before he fires.”
“Be
“You want me to get him or are you going to use the Anacondas?” prompted Starship.
“He’s ours,” said Sullivan, the copilot.
“Yeah, we got him,” said Englehardt. “Anacondas. Take him, Kevin.”
Near the Chinese-Pakistani border
2350
JENNIFER GLEASON SNUGGED HER BULLETPROOF VEST
tighter as Da
She wasn’t scared, but standing in the bay of the aircraft with no way of making a real contribution made her feel almost helpless. A single Marine corporal had stayed behind with her, guarding the defused warhead; everyone else was taking on the guerrillas outside.
A bullet or maybe a rock splinter tinged against the side of 296
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
the Osprey. Je
Two or three minutes passed without anything else happening. No longer hearing any gunfire, she took a step toward the door.
The Marine caught her shirt. “Excuse me, miss. The captain said you are to stay inside until he gives the OK.”
“It’s safe.”
The corporal frowned. “Sorry, ma’am. His orders.”
“Would you go outside?”
“Not the question.”
“Well what the fuck is the question?”
The Marine frowned but didn’t let go. He swung his other hand up and pushed the boom mike for his radio closer to his mouth. Je
“Captain says proceed with caution.”
“Caution is my middle name,” said Je
She could see clusters of Marines on both the left and right; they were standing upright.
Je
“Where’s Captain Freah?” she asked a nearby Marine.
“That way.” He pointed across the field in the direction of the two trucks destroyed by the Flighthawk. “Careful, ma’am.
We’re still mopping up. Those suckers were hiding in the rocks and grass.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Je
297
tired of waiting for the parade to pass. She caught a whiff of burnt metal and vinyl from one of the trucks that was still smoldering up ahead.