by Colin Weldon
“What the hell are they doing?” shouted Admiral Fisher, “get the CO on the phone and find out what the hell is going on.”
“Sir, do we engage?” Lewis shouted at Heller.
“Engage?” Heller replied.
“Yes, sir, engage the French air force; they’ve just attacked our plane without provocation – we have to engage!” he urged.
Heller begin to sweat.
“Sir!” Fisher said.
Heller looked back at the screen. It looked like his whole body was shaking.
“Engage them; take out that fighter!” Heller said, “and get me the French President and UK PM on the phone now!” he shouted.
Hammond picked up a nearby phone.
“Weapons free!” he said
Air Force One
Eddie felt like he was in a dream. The plane had banked so hard that Hiran had ended up on the floor. Abigail’s body had rolled over to the corner of the room. Hiran’s computer had toppled over and was now lying face down next to the desk. Nora was hanging onto the side of the table and was craning her neck to see out of the window. Royo was doing the same. Then the voice came over the PA system.
“Weapons lock, everybody hold on,” came Strom’s voice.
“They’re firing on us!” Eddie shouted.
The plane banked hard in the opposite direction, causing Hiran to tumble sideways into the desk and sending Eddie, Nora and Holt shooting out of their chairs and into the side wall. Royo was also out of his chair and on the floor. Eddie could hear the hits of bullets as they ricocheted off the outside of the fuselage. He could also hear the popping of the countermeasures as they were launched from the plane. His stomach lurched as Air Force One went into a hard nose dive. He suddenly felt weightless, like being on the top of a rollercoaster as gravity took its grip and sent you plummeting towards the ground. He could feel his body lift cleanly off the floor. He felt a wave of dizziness as his eyes rose and he caught a glimpse of the chaos going on outside. There were fighters all over the place like fireflies, all shooting at each other. There was a dogfight taking place outside the plane. He saw one fighter explode as a missile hit it squarely on the top of its airframe. There was no visible parachute deployment. It was a war. The plane banked hard again, dropping Eddie back to the floor. There was clunking sound as Eddie’s head hit the corner of the table.
“Mother fucker,” he said gritting his teeth.
“I need to get to the flight deck to see what the hell is going on!” he shouted at Nora. “You wanna shoot me, shoot me, otherwise give me a fucking hand.” He said extending his arm out to hers.
Nora was on the ground also and looking at him through the table legs.
“I need to get the president to the POD!” shouted Holt.
The escape pod, used for a catastrophic emergency, was located at the rear of the plane. Eddie glanced at Holt and then back at Nora.
“Let him go, Nora,” he said as a missile flew really close to the window. Eddie knew that this plane had methods of jamming and disrupting heat-seeking missiles but that sounded way too close for comfort.
“Come on, he dies up here and you’re definitely out of options.”
She stared hard at Royo.
“Go!” she said to Holt, clambering to her feet and making her way to the door.
“I’m staying here!” Royo said sitting on his knees with his elbows on the desk. “For now, this is my god damn plane. I’ll decide when I leave it.”
“All due respect, but that decision isn’t up to you sir,” Holt said grabbing onto his arm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tarsis was a skilled pilot. Not that he had ever stepped into a fighter jet before today. The tactics and training were all part of a single program. A program amongst thousands of tactical databases. The sky around the plane was ablaze with fire. Scattered jets from the French, English and US air forces were climbing, diving, spinning, shooting and exploding all around him. He was, at present, trying to dispatch three fighters on his tail that were proving to be hindrances to his primary mission. He had successfully hit Air Force One in both the tail section and left wing before they got a weapons lock onto him. He had to target it manually, using his own optical sensors as the EM jamming equipment made it impossible for his fighter to get a weapons lock. That was just one of the defensive systems that it had deployed. As soon as Tarsis had broken formation and fired the first shot, a section of fuselage under the main body of Air Force One had broken away and much like the president’s car, had deployed a swarm of high-speed disc shaped drones. Tarsis counted twenty of them in total.
They were each equipped with their very own jet propulsion engines and, of course, armed with high calibre bullets that directed their fire right at Tarsis’s fighter jet. Amongst the bright red glow of the flares, the drones formed a ring around the plane and began firing. The knowledge of these particular defensive systems was not anywhere in Tarsis’s main memory banks and so he was forced to improvise. The manoeuvres Tarsis was able to perform in this particular aircraft were well beyond what any normal person would have been able to do. To deal with the incoming fire from the wall of drones surrounding the plane, Tarsis first took the fighter and banked hard right, placing the jet into a continuous spin while at the same time directing it so that it would move slowly from left to right behind Air Force One.
Most fighter pilots would have passed out with the g forces of the manoeuvres. Tarsis’s vision, however, kept a perfect lock on his position relative to the plane at all times and he was able to shoot out the drones one by one relatively quickly. Following that, he had tried several of his MICA RF air-to-air missiles. One of them had come close despite the anti missile system being deployed by Air Force One, grazing the right side of the main fuselage. It had, however, not hit its target. It was at this stage that all hell had broken loose in the sky around him. The tones inside his cockpit alerted him to a weapons lock from pursuing aircraft. He was comforted by the fact that one of the engines on the left wing of Air Force One looked like it was on fire. He would have to come back and finish the job.
A hail of gunfire sped its way past his left and right wings as he pulled up hard and soared into a thin layer of cloud directly overhead, leaving the main body of the dog fight below him. He turned his head to try and get a visual on the pursuing aircraft. He spotted five on his tail. He calculated a trajectory that would enable him to deal with the two closest fighters. While still in a vertical climb he quickly turned his plane one hundred and eighty degrees and pulled up hard, causing his fighter to flip into a downward-facing direction. The manoeuvre was close to nine g’s. Tarsis remained calm, in control, as the plane headed straight for his attackers. He put it into a spin and locked on his guns, opening fire on the lead. It exploded instantly. The other four banked hard left and right as he took his plane straight through the middle of them. Tarsis glanced at the wreckage of the fighter he had just destroyed as he passed through the fireball falling from the sky. He could see a layer of smoke like breadcrumbs leading all the way to Air Force One. There were fighters all around, xriss-crossing the sky in a hail of missile launches and high calibre bullets. He ignored them and resumed the pursuit of his primary target.
Air Force One
“What’s the situation?” Eddie said to Colonel Strom in the cockpit.
Strom was in his late forties by the looks of it but was in excellent shape and had tightly cropped black hair. He had one of those strong military jaw lines that seemed to be standard with high-ranking officers. Strom looked briefly at Eddie and Nora before turning his attention back to his flight controls.
“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted grappling with the control panel.
It was shaking violently in Strom’s hands. Beside him, was a younger officer. Eddie did not know his name. He was in his thirties and had a blond buzz cut. He was looking angrily at Nora.
“Eyes on the board, Charlie!” shouted Strom to the co-pilot.
Charlie swivelled his gaze back to the control panel.
“If you’re here to kill us I’d get on with it if I were you, we’re kinda busy up here!” Strom said flicking a switch over his head.
“The president is on his way to the POD,” said Eddie.
“I don’t like the idea of ditching him in the middle of the sea,” replied Strom, “and what is she doing in the cockpit?” he shouted at Eddie.
“Forget about her, can we make it down?” Eddie said.
“I’ll let you know when we’re there, I’m trying for LaGuardia. For the moment, the pursuing fighter that took a pot shot at us has fallen away. I don’t know what the hell is going on but a war just broke out up here,” said Strom
“Yeah, I’ve noticed”
Eddie saw that Nora was gazing through the window. She turned to him suddenly.
“I’ll help you stop this thing,” she said as the cockpit began to shudder and shake, “if you help me escape this.”
Eddie did not know what to say. His head was still sore and he was feeling beaten up. He had no idea who he was fighting for anymore. The lines between the good guys and the bad seemed to have smudged. He let out a long sigh and shook his head.
“It’s not like you’ve given me much of a fucking choice now, is it?” he said.
The cockpit shook again as the thundering sound of jets screamed past the windows. Eddie looked forward and saw a French fighter fly by, almost clipping its wings against the window is was so close.
“Jesus Christ!” shouted Strom, banking hard right.
Eddie grabbed the back of the seat as Nora was sent tumbling into the far wall. There was a high-pitched screeching sound.
“Shit!” Eddie said. His knuckles had turned white.
A shower of sparks rained down from overhead as an electrical surge blew out from over their heads.
“We’ve lost internal electrical power!” shouted Strom, “we can’t eject the escape POD now, even if we wanted to.”
Eddie looked out the window and saw buildings. They were approaching land.
“How far!” Eddie shouted.
“Twenty miles, but one more shot like that and we’re done for,” Strom said, trying to level out the plane.
“You guys have air-to-air missiles on this thing?” Eddie said.
Strom turned around and looked at him.
“I don’t know if they’ll fire!” he said, beads of sweat running down his face.
Eddie looked back at Hiran.
“Can you do anything?” he shouted at him.
“Maybe. I’ll have to get in there,” he said pointing to the co-pilot’s seat.
Eddie slapped Charlie on the shoulder.
“Get up and let my man in there,” he said.
Charlie looked at Strom who nodded.
“Do as he says. I’ve got this,” he said
Charlie unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out, exchanging places with Hiran who instantly began trying to interface his computer with the on-board systems.
“Christ, he really did a number on this,” he said plugging a wire directly from his computer into an input port.
“Where is he?” Eddie said leaning forward and trying to get a visual.
Nora peered out the window alongside him.
“I don’t see him,” she said.
“Ok, I have access to air to air, bringing up the external targeting systems,” said Hiran, his concentration fixed on the central computer console in front of him.
“I need to reroute the internal power systems. It might get cold in here,” he continued.
Eddie felt a sudden chill on his face as the warm central air shut off.
“Got him,” Hiran said, ‘coming in hard from the rear.”
“Ok, hold on,” said Strom pitching the nose down and banking hard to the left.
Eddie felt a surge as his stomach lurched upwards. He placed his hands on the roof of the cockpit to try and steady himself.
“Amraam activated,” Strom said looking at Hiran briefly.
“The computer has a lock,” Hiran said.
“Here goes nothing,” Strom said as a high-pitched tone began ringing through the cockpit.
* * *
Tarsis calculated that he could get another shot off before having to break away again. Air Force One was now in a dive, just passing twenty thousand feet. Tarsis was less than half a mile behind her and matching her manoeuvres easily. He could see the emerging skyline in the distance and figured he had another six seconds to accomplish his mission. It was too late to break away from the attack run and while he calculated that there was a seventy one per cent chance that the pursuing aircraft would get a weapons lock on him before he could fire, he was ninety three per cent sure that he could evade them once they had. Five seconds, Tarsis looked away from the plane and glanced briefly as a low hanging cloud formation over the eastern seaboard.
The sun was coming from directly overhead and casting splitting beams of light over the buildings and houses below. He thought it was rather pretty. Four seconds to weapons lock and he looked back at Air force One which was now passing fifteen thousand feet and banking hard right. He saw panels on the underside of the aircraft open suddenly and looked curiously at them. They were still too high to engage their landing gear and wondered what it was they were attempting to do. Three seconds and a sound in his cockpit alerted him to an incoming weapons lock from the two fighters on his tail. Two seconds and another tone alerted him to another weapons lock, this one coming from dead ahead. His heads up display began blinking with the sudden release of missiles. Coming from both ahead, and behind.
He frowned and watched as two trails of smoke appeared from the underside of Air Force One and began heading in his direction. One second later, his mission was over. Four missiles launched from behind and two from in front. They had got him. It was now time to evade or be destroyed. He growled in frustration through his artificial teeth and pulled up hard. He hit his after-burners and broke off his assault, heading for the blue skies above.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
White House Situation Room
“We’ve lost contact with the bogie. Air Force One is losing altitude and appears to have taken damage to the tail and port and starboard engines,” said an officer next to the satellite imagery, “we’re getting sporadic electrical short outs and radio comms are out.”
Heller looked on in horror at the nightmare unfolding before him, he looked to Admiral Fisher, who was on battle readiness alert and was diverting the second and fifth fleet out of the Persian Gulf and into the Arabian Sea to reposition for a potential first strike at their former European allies. It was total chaos, reports of US fighters taking down French aircraft, RAF fighters hitting US fighters and Air Force One on fire. He imagined back to that morning, kissing his girls goodbye, the look of admiration in their eyes. When they eventually found out about him, if they ever grew up, if they knew what he had become. He never thought of himself as evil. A weakness had overcome him. A lust for success, for power, he wanted to make a difference. He wondered whether just killing himself would be the best solution, but looking up at the screen, at what was about to happen to the President. He was about to become the leader of the free world and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
Air Force One
“Charlie let’s shoot for Mattituck airbase,” said Strom, “we’ve just lost number three.”
The plane shook and dropped suddenly with the loss of power from another engine.
“The runway isn’t long enough, not by a long shot,” Charlie said to Strom.
“No choice,” Strom said as another power draining sound echoed through the cockpit. “Shit, Charlie we’re down to one. I suggest everybody strap in; this may get a little dicey,”
said Strom flicking on his comm system, “Holt, this is Strom. If you can hear me, the POD will not, I repeat will NOT launch, get the president back up to the main cabin and strap yourselves in. We’re going to be making an emergency landing!”
Eddie looked around the cockpit.
“There are seats back there, sit down and buckle up,” said Strom.
Eddie saw the pull down seats and obeyed, as did Nora and Hiran. He looked at Nora.
“Things are messy enough. No taking pot shots at any of us, ok?”
“You were a Navy seal, huh?” she said.
“Still am,” Eddie replied.
“You ever leave a man behind?” she said.
Eddie’s thoughts were instantly brought back to a sand-filled camp where he was shackled to a wall day after day. The look of desperation on his team members’ faces as they looked to him for help. Their broken wills as they were tortured and killed. He had left them behind. He’d had no choice. He looked at Nora silently.
“Now you understand. Eddie,” Nora said.
Mattituck Airbase New York
“Dee, I don’t understand why, after fifteen years, you keep putting pickles in my sandwiches,” said Wilbur Reinhold as he looked out of the air traffic control office at his Cessna 172, which was parked outside. It had a bold red stripe running from the window of the cockpit all the way to the tail and had the word ‘Dee’ written in script on the door. Wilbur had retired from the US Postal service nearly two years ago and was enjoying his retirement, managing the small airfield and giving flying lessons and sight seeing trips in his plane along the eastern seaboard. The low lying fog today had meant that he had been grounded, so he was spending his day watching the events in Paris on TV and generally pottering about in the maintenance hanger. His distrust of the government ran deeply in his bones and he did not believe a word of it. ‘This is bullshit’ he had said to his wife Dee after the announcement. ‘Some rich assholes are trying to make a buck in the markets. It’s always an inside job’
