End Game d-8
Page 36
"I'll talk, Jed. But I doubt they're going to listen."
Aboard the Deng Xiaoping,
in the northern Arabian Sea
0712
Captain Hongwu was surprised by the voice.Itwas deep and calm, sure of itself without being haughty, exactly like the voice he had heard on television after Beijing was saved.
"This is Lieutenant Colonel Tecumseh Bastian of the United States Air Force. I'm going to destroy your vessel unless you stand down the Tai-shan aircraft. The nuclear weapons launched by India have been neutralized. Your government has rescinded your order to attack."
"I am honored to speak to the man who saved Beijing from disaster," said Hongwu. "But I must follow my orders."
"Your government is in the process of issuing the order. You will receive it shortly."
Hongwu turned to his executive officer. "Have we received an order on the encrypted fleet frequency?" He shook his head.
"A nice trick, Colonel. I am afraid my duty requires me to shoot you down. It is with regret. You saved many of my relatives and friends with your bravery over my country."
"Then you know I am not a liar or someone who uses tricks. And you also know that you will not be able to shoot me down."
"The American plane is five miles from us!" warned the executive officer. "He's coming up the stern." "Fire the guns when he is range." "Only two are left." "Two should be enough."
"A communication!" shouted the radio officer. "An encrypted communication from Beijing directly!"
Aboard the Wisconsin,
approaching the Deng Xiaoping
0713
Dog could feel the Megafortress tucking her wings back. He was still too far to see the airplanes on the deck, but he knew about where they would be.
A pair of black clouds rose from the rear of the ship— flak. The bullets rose in an arc and fell away. He thought he could get in between them, though perhaps that was merely an optical illusion.
Tracers danced in front of his windscreen. Then he heard the sick thump-thump-thump of slugs slapping into his right wing.
Dog struggled to hold the plane steady. Without the computer to help trim the aircraft, the Megafortress was a stubborn beast. Once she had her momentum going in a certain direction, she insisted on following through.
Which was just as well in this case.
More tracers. Then the J-13 zoomed ahead and banked in front of him.
The ship was starting to get bigger. He'd have a fat target now. He could see the antiaircraft fire. It had been fired too early, too desperately.
The ship moved to his right, turning.
To get away?
He pushed on the stick. He was close enough. They were dead.
For a brief, flickering moment Colonel Tecumseh "Dog" Bastian thought of his daughter Breanna. He was proud of her, the woman she'd become. His one regret in life was that he'd been too busy to pay much attention to her growing up. He'd done his best to make it up now, but there were shortcomings you never really could excuse.
He had them now. He leaned toward the windscreen.
"They're standing down!" yelled Jed Barclay in his headset. "They've pulled the Tai-shan aircraft away from the launchers. They're turning out of the wind! Colonel — don't attack them! Don't attack them!"
Dog pulled back, clearing the carrier deck by three feet.
Aboard the Levitow,
over the Arabian Sea
0713
The six ejection seats fired almost simultaneously. The long explosion morphed into a howling wind.
Breanna helped her husband cinch the substitute helmet a few feet from the gaping holes in the floor of the Flighthawk deck.
"You ready?" she shouted in his face.
"Hell, no, but let's do it anyway," said Zen. He pulled her close, squeezing as tight as he could.
The plane rocked violently.
"We have to go out!" she yelled.
"Why were you mad at me?"
"Mad?"
"You were mad at me. I didn't pick it up at first, but then I figured it out."
"It wasn't important if I was."
"Yes." He held her tight, though she tried to pull away.
"I didn't want you to give up."
"Who gave up?"
"Your dream of walking."
"You want me to walk?" he said.
"I want you to be happy. I want — I do want you to walk," she said. He could feel her tears on his cheek. "But I don't want you to give up fighting. I want you to keep fighting. I don't want you to give up for me."
"I didn't give up," said Zen.
They looked at each other for an instant, a moment of time but an enternity in every other way.
"We have to go," said Breanna.
"Well, let's get the hell out of here."
Breanna stayed next to Zen as he crawled close to the blown-off hatches in the Megafortress.
She'd jump with him, holding on for as long as possible. If the slipstream slammed them against the jet, if it pushed them away to the water — they'd be together.
That was the way it should be. The only way.
"Here we go!" yelled Zen, and with one push they tumbled through the hatchway.
XI
Fates Unknown
NSC Situation Room,
Washington, D.C.
2120, 14 January 1998
(0720, 15 January, Karachi)
Jed had stood on the thinly carpeted cement floor for so long that his legs seemed to vibrate when he collapsed into the chair in front of the console.
"You look tired, young Jed," said the President.
"A little."
"You've done yeoman's work."
"We're not done yet."
"True," said the President grimly.
The Indians, Pakistanis, and Chinese seemed to have tacitly accepted a cease-fire, certainly for the moment. All three navies were conducting rescue operations in the Arabian Sea. But the situation remained exceedingly chaotic. Good portions of India and Pakistan, including both capitals, were without electricity and communications. It was anyone's guess how long it would take to rebuild the systems damaged by the EEMWBs. Just as it was anyone's guess whether tempers would eventually calm.
In the meantime, the U.S. had two aircraft down in the northern Arabian Sea and a third facing a several-thousand-mile trek without any electronics. The fate of the men and women who had bailed from the planes remained unknown. The Abner Read, herself badly damaged by the attack from the Chinese, was directing the Sharkboat and the Werewolf in rescue operations to recover the downed flight crews.
Dreamland's Whiplash Osprey would be in the area in two hours to help out.
"Coffee, Jed?" asked Peg Jordan, the NSA liaison.
"Coffee'd be great. Better get a pot. We're going to be here awhile."
About the Authors
DALE BROWN is a former U.S. Air Force captain and the author of fifteen previous bestsellers. Brown lives in Nevada, where he can often be found in the skies, piloting his own plane.
Jim DeFelice's recent techno-thrillers include Brother's Keeper (2000) and Havana Strike (1997). Jim has also written more than a dozen works of fiction and nonfiction for young people. He lives with his wife and son in upstate New York and can be contacted by e-mail at JDchester@aol.com.
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