Aces! I thought—a new plan forming in my mind. Originally, I was going to land on one of my father’s designated airstrips ten miles from the Regan International Airport.
Now…?
Things were about to change.
USS Goliath
While Tillman grew a little nervous at what he was seeing transpire before his eyes, Conrad Jones was quietly impressed with the way things were turning out.
“Flighty little thing—wouldn’t you say, Commander?” He said in a low voice. “She seems to have more than a knack for flying. Almost like watching a gifted ballerina perform for her unseen audience—eh?”
“You still want to carry this out?” He asked. “I mean—we’re not dealing with a stray Russian MiG here.”
“No…” Conrad responded easily. “What we are dealing with here is a smart woman with a perchance for surprises.”
“Is that why we wasted a small portion of my ship’s drones?” The man asked—irritated all of a sudden. “Just so you could test out a theory?”
“The prey we are sometimes after—” Conrad mused thoughtfully, “—has be put through its paces, before we can make the proper kill.”
“Are we talking about the Peacemaker or the Essex?”
“Both—I suppose.” Conrad said. “But since we know so much about the latter than the former—? It would stand to reason that we get to know so much about the intended target, before we dispatch it to oblivion—no?”
“I don’t have anything on that jet, Mr. Jones.” Tillman revealed. “All I’m seeing right now is speed and flight profiles, but nothing more than that. Plus, a couple of weapon demonstrations—of which one took us completely by surprise.”
“The Shadow Fire one?” Conrad said.
“Yes…that one. Where did the military come up with such a defensive countermeasure like that? I don’t recall seeing anything on the Air Force’s drawing boards in the past five years—which could come to matching what the Peacemaker was packing back there—over New Jersey.”
“This is the 21st century, Commander Tillman. Anything is now possible. After all…medical science is advancing far faster than anything known to man. So why not technology? I’ll admit—what the jet has would be considered fantastic—straight out of a science-fiction novel—but not too long ago, this cruiser, its advanced weapons systems, and its stealth systems would’ve been seen in the same book—say 40 years ago?”
The man had to agree with Jones on that premise—and even said so.
Which raised some eyebrows on the other end of the spectrum.
“Are you concerned that the Peacemaker may make chumps out of your precious ship, Commander?”
“It may be a tight fight, Mr. Jones, but I don’t think we’ll lose in the end.”
“So you think that you can outgun an experimental jet that can go faster than Mach 8?”
Tillman blanched at that sudden revelation.
“Muh-Mach…8?” He croaked. “But we’ve only seen her push to Mach 6! And even that—is incredible!”
Conrad shook his head. “Trust me, Commander. The Peacemaker is a one of kind fighting jet that can do anything that it was initially designed to do—defy human imagination.”
“I seriously doubt that very much.”
“Watch and see, then. Your precious escort destroyers are going to be in for one heck of a show.”
Tillman stared at the screen—with the small indicator marking the Peacemaker’s current position. From where he stood, the jet was just a few miles north of the Hudson River—where the main channel both emptied into the Atlantic Ocean and cut around the eastern flank of Staten Island.
Butterflies filled the man’s stomach and he wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew—after making the deal with Mr. Jones two years ago.
“This is going to get mighty embarrassing if things were to go badly for us.” The man said abruptly. “The US Navy has never suffered such serious setbacks since Pearl Harbor.”
“War is hell—as some of your countrymen have once vilified so vividly during the second Gulf War. Such losses are to be expected in a conflict, yet you seem to view them with such arcane trepidation. We British have lost more of its citizens during wars and such conflicts since the Dark Ages, that it’s become something of a national past-time. But you Americans abhor such losses because you believe it will diminish your patriotic spirit and your nationalist strength.”
“Can you blame us? We’re one of few remaining superpowers in the world—behind your country, China, and the Russian Republic.”
“And attitudes are so blasé in this new century. The old gives way to the new and you’re too terrified of such changes. Which is why it was so easy to recruit you to begin with.”
“How so?”
“To call upon your controversial arrogance was simple enough—anyone can provide the right kind of lure for those whom desire conflict above all else—? Is just a small bonus.”
“I want—” Tillman began, but was cut off when Conrad raised a hand at him.
“I know what you want, Commander. It’s been spelled out in triplicate since we got this little operation started. But you must realize that it works both ways. And of course, if you ever tried to cross me—?”
The other man shuddered for a second—giving Conrad a reason to smile.
“That’s what I thought. See? We both know the stakes and risks all too well. And not just that—? But the consequences as well.” Pointing to a section of one of the display screens, he added, “now let’s both step back and watch the action unfold—as your squadron launches their little counterattack.”
9:53 AM
Southwest section of the Hudson River.
The Hudson River quickly emptied into this part of the Atlantic—from what I could see below me at 15,000 feet—giving way to crystal blue waters and endless visibility.
The Peacemaker’s proximity alarm system had been automatically activated in the event I stayed at any altitude below 25,000 feet for more than five minutes.
Lidar scans kept me appraise of any type of aircraft which may stray in my immediate path or close by.
So far…?
Everything was within a 1.5 mile radius of the Peacemaker and not posing an immediate threat.
IFF and TDI systems were scanning for those same F15Cs which had harassed me a couple days ago, but nothing new cropped up.
So no threats…I thought as I nosed my plane over a few degrees to the left and continued over Staten Island.
The place looked absolutely beautiful from where I sat. Concrete-laid towers reached up for the skies above them, while traffic of all kinds filled the arteries of the Big Apple.
I snapped a few dozen pictures with the Starlight Vision Camera and a few other digi-cams—filtered through the few promising ones which I accessed from the jet’s mainframe.
New York was said to be the “City that Never Sleeps”—and from what I could tell…?
That moniker fit to a tee.
Proximity alarms sounded sharply in the cockpit—drawing my attention.
Three Boeing 787s were climbing up from Reagan International at a pretty gentle clip—each from a different angle.
I saw that one was going to be crossing my path in a little more than three minutes, so I banked down and away from the approaching airliner and reduced my speed further to about 500mph.
I didn’t want an accidental collision on my hands and even if it did happen, there was little chance that the airliner would survive the encounter intact.
In less than thirty seconds I was able to put some safe distance between me and the 787—but I was certain that no one had spotted me.
I banked left thinking that nothing else would happen when the ship’s IFF and TDI systems went into ALERT mode.
“Now what…?” I thought out loud—making a quick scoping of the displays in front and off to the right.
Three new target reticules popped up somewhere on the Hudson just eight miles
ahead of me, while the IFF ripped through a host of target acquisition possibilities which weren’t there before.
From what I could see, the IFF was scrutinizing ships this time—not aircraft—and it made me wonder just who would be dumb enough to try and attack me now.
Now that…
And I blinked.
“What the—?” I muttered in shock—seeing the grid bar (and screen) where my PAS had been activated recently.
It had gone completely dark.
In the three seconds it took me to look right and then left—I soon discovered that there were no more commercial air traffic in this part of the Hudson!
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.
“That’s not possible…!” I barked in sudden fear—before the IFF came up with something that froze me in place.
“Th-three Daedalus-class DEs?!”
I had heard that these ships were prickly little urchins on a completely different level—but I never expected to cross paths with any of them in this lifetime.
Coming in at 534 feet with 287 crewmembers, these modified Pegasus-class frigates were a force to be reckoned with on any sea (and land) borne battlefield.
The destroyers sported advanced stealth capabilities on par with any ship in the US Navy, fiercely armed with 2 quad-fire 8-inch guns, four SAM Paladin Quickfire missiles, and four, 25-inch torpedo tubes—including three modified DASH-2 helicopters carried on its aft deck.
It also sported 2 extra PIANorvo 80mm Ringmaster, auto-cooling-rapid fire, assault cannons situated atop the aft superstructure.
The roof of the hanger had a new Mk-2 10 20mm Vulcan Phalanx CIWS for added anti-aircraft protection, or cover whenever the DASH-2; Cobra-171 ASW Helicopters were ready to fly.
To my knowledge—and the IFF’s—only ten of these fast moving 40-knot ships were actually built over the past several years—to replace the aging Brooke Robbins-class destroyer escorts from the late 1990s.
So why are they here??? And why have they been designated a triple-threat to my jet’s IFF and TDI systems?
The only thing which could cross my mind—at that point—was that those ships in question were either operating under war-time conditions set forth by the US government, or somebody down there saw me as a serious enough threat to be taken seriously.
Either way, I was screwed.
I could hold off maybe the first ship, but not three. Not without risking serious damage to the Peacemaker itself.
But a close-up reveled that they were between me and the HMS Essex.
“So in order for me to get from here to there…?” I mused in the comm pickup. I then had the computer plot me a course which would take me past the ships and out of their range of fire—but still get me to the Essex quick smart.
The computer gave me some options, but none of them were all that appealing to my survival instincts.
No matter which way I went, I would be under fire from at least two of the three picket-line destroyers.
I eased up on the stick a little and engaged the VTOL-thrusters for a second—so that I could think of my next move.
Whatever that was.
***
USS Goliath.
“What is she waiting for?!” Tillman grumbled out loud—clearly not happy with the way things were going.
The readouts showed the Peacemaker in an unmistakable hover—which he didn’t think was possible—given the odd aerodynamics of the plane itself.
“She’s thinking.” Conrad quickly deduced from where he sat—one console bank away from the wrap-around screen displays. “Which means that she’s not as stupid as we first thought.”
“I never said that,” Tillman complained. “I was just implying that our resident female pilot was a tad bit headstrong and determined.”
“Oh, she’s definitely that.” Conrad complimented openly. “But she’s also easily swayed or bought. It didn’t take her long to accept the money I had offered her—nor did it take her long to take our dear prince on the joyride of his life.”
“So you keep telling me.” The other man said darkly. “But I doubt she would be foolish enough to take on three Daedalus-class destroyer escorts from our squadron.”
Conrad ordered one of the techs to blow up a profile grid of the Hudson River in question and then had him call up the assigned targeted markers afterwards—each positioned accordingly.
The Peacemaker was in navy blue and the other three ships were in blood red—each with its own real-time profile data.
“Not all at once to be sure.” He contemplated. “But our dear Ms. Anderson is something of a combat tactician and a shrewd game player. She knows what’s at stake here and what she wants is to get on the Essex quickly.”
“What? Whatever for?”
“If I were her, I would want some answers to what’s been going on lately. And our dear captain could expose our whole operation—if she were allowed to talk.”
Tillman shifted back and forth a little on his feet, but he said nothing.
“So taking her out and laying the blame on Ms. Anderson would…provide us some cover then?”
“More than enough to get the ball game rolling, I’d say.” Conrad answered with self-bent satisfaction. Looking at the three red markers, the man smiled.
“Ah, I see the three ship commanders have done exactly what I wanted them to do: Activate their weapon systems.”
“But they aren’t firing.”
“Not yet, no. But we’ll get to that in a second—no?”
Tillman brushed back his blond hair in muted frustration.
“God…all this waiting is killing me.”
“Be patient, my dear Commander. Everything will happen in due course. You can’t expect an operation of this magnitude to be over and done with in a matter of minutes—can you?”
“Sometimes,” the man admitted frankly. “What used to take hours has now boiled down to mere minutes.”
“And in time, that will be translated into mere seconds—as things advance along their own prescribed course of evolution. But for now, we must deal with things as they come. Not as we want them to be. Do you get what I am saying, Mr. Tillman?”
The other man appeared slightly rankled at being referred to as mister, but he let the insult slide past without protest.
“I understand.”
“Contact Captain Moon and have the three ships implement a weapons’ lock on the Peacemaker. Shake up her tree a little—as it were.”
Tillman nodded and instructed one of his radio techs to get a hold of the destroyer-escort commander.
10:17 AM.
I had just started on a modified course change when the TDI went from ALERT to WARNING in the next five minutes—after I had dangled out here like a fresh worm on a hook.
Two of three destroyers now had weapons lock on me—which I didn’t think was possible—so I decided to pull the plug on their little advantage and activated the optical stealth option.
Like a Klingon cloaking effect, the Peacemaker shimmered out of sight and blended in with its immediate surroundings.
I sat back with a smug expression on my face—watching as the TDI displays in front of me cool off and wink out; imagining what those idiots down there thought of me now.
Can’t hit what you can’t see—can you you fucking morons? I crowed silently—before engaging the ship’s thrusters and dipped down towards my intended target.
The altimeter display dropped to about 15,000 at 348mph and then lower still as the Hudson River rushed up to meet me—as I floated past one of the two destroyers with the generalist of ease.
I could see a few crewmen on the top decks, but heaven only knew what they were thinking—as I cruised past at about 2,000 feet in a nice and easy flight pattern—straight and true towards the HMS Essex. (Which laid three miles ahead of me.)
Bliss. I thought—believing that this would be the easiest part of the mission yet.
Five minutes later.
Both Conrad and Tillman were shocked as
one—as the target data in question just upped and vanished from the screens in front of them.
“What the—!” Tillman bit out—astonished. Turning quickly, he bellowed: “Did we lose her?!”
The tech next to Conrad Jones shook his head—as did four others; whom were hammering out commands at their respective stations—trying to get some answers from the tracking systems and the combat-data computers.
“No sir!” One of them returned rigidly. “She just…disappeared from our scopes! Like she was never there in the first place!”
“How the hell can a plane do that?! It’s not possible! Not in this day and age!”
Conrad settled back into his seat and thought this one over. It was apparent that the Peacemaker did indeed have a few more tricks up her sleeve and its pilot was more cunning than he gave her credit for.
“It looks like we’ll have to flush out our little quail bird instead.” He murmured to himself. “Go for the direct approach instead of just a simple tease.”
Overheard, Tillman stared at the man and said sharply, “and how do you propose we do that? She’s gone. Our systems may be able to break through all kinds of stealth, but I’ve never seen anything like that—except maybe in a Star Trek movie! But that‘s just science-fiction!”
“Must be a by-product of Skunk Works,” the Englishman postulated quietly. “A new type of invisibility cloak. Possibly a new form of stealth which makes what we have obsolete. But if that’s the case—? Then we’re going to have to take away that technological advantage—won‘t we?”
“Like I said: How are we going to do that?” Tillman ardently repeated himself from where he stood.
“You have a brain—don’t you, Commander? I suggest you use it. A jet like that can’t maintain such a stealthy little trick for long. And knowing that she hasn’t left the area quite yet…what would you do in her place? How would you escalate things just so that she would no choice but to take evasive action? And in plain sight?”
“I’d flood the area immediately with decoy missiles and then hit them head on with live ordinance—just so it looks good to any outside observer. She would have to drop that invisibility screen of hers to take evasive action.”
The Peacemaker Page 19
