promise. But we have this.” Naji was a supreme navigator at the drone control station. On the screen, once he zoomed in, three Phantom fighters were surveying the area by flying in tiered steps.
“They’re looking for the drone,” said Naji.
Shazad placed a hand on Naji’s shoulder. “Then let’s not disappoint them,” he said.
Naji knew exactly what the man was saying. Moving the joystick forward, Naji commanded the drone to dive.
The wolf was wending its way to the sheep.
#
“This is Coven One to Covens Two and Three: any visuals?”
“Coven Two, that’s a negative. I’m seeing nothing but blue sky.”
“Coven Three is also negative. Suggest we move to coordinates east at vector two-five-six.”
“Copy that. Moving to vector two-five-six.”
As soon as the last word left Coven One’s lips, the wing to Coven Two’s fighter jet went up in an eruption of flame and broken metal, the section having been sheared off by a remora as the plane began to roll.
A Reaper drone suddenly sped by them as if they were standing still.
“Coven One to Two!”
“I’m going down, One.”
“Copy that! Go to protocol!”
“ Out! ”
As the wounded plane righted itself for a moment, its canopy suddenly popped free and the pilot ejected.
That left two planes with which to engage the drone.
#
The Reaper had zeroed in on the fighter jet that was on the eastern periphery of the trio--the one farthest from the group. As the mechanical predator fell back, the remaining two fighter jets banked away from each other in wide arcs, coming around behind the drone.
But the Reaper curved into an upward path, making an arc of its own, sweeping back to engage the jets.
The last remora on the drone’s back disconnected from its holding clamps and streamed forward on a preprogrammed route. It moved with immeasurable speed, the vehicle bobbing and weaving in open space, flipping and gyrating with uncanny ease as it bore down on the second fighter jet, chasing it as if in play. The jet rolled in clockwise revolutions before banking hard to the left, then to the right, trying its best to shake off the remora that was closing fast.
In a move worthy of an air show, the fighter flipped and executed an immediate vertical rise. But the remora did the same, following in the jet’s path until they collided, the remora and its five pounds of Semtex igniting a fireball explosion four miles above the Earth’s floor.
The pilot never had a chance to eject.
Coven One continued its pursuit of the Reaper that had emptied its entire payload. The drone headed east, then south, its course a winding one as the jet locked on and fired a missile. The projectile disengaged from the plane’s undercarriage and took flight, closing the gap between them in seconds. It struck the drone, ending the service life of a fifteen million dollar piece of artillery.
“Coven One to Base.”
“Go, Coven One.”
“We have one for pickup and one KIA. Do you copy?”
“We copy, Coven One. We have support on its way.”
“Also note: the tango is down. I repeat: the tango is down.”
“We copy, Coven One.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Raven Rock, the Underground Pentagon
By the time Marine One landed safely at the Raven Rock helipad, Base Command was up and running.
The nerve center was a cavern-like room with banks of LCD monitors occupying the entirety of the east wall. A massive, rectangular table acting as the space's centerpiece was large enough to sit two dozen people comfortably, with each seat fronting a computer station including an integrated flip screen.
President Carmichael had flown in key people from his administration, including the leading principals of America’s intelligence agencies, including the CIA, NSA, the DNI and the FBI; his national security A-listers. Before them, each had their high-definition tabletop screens raised while images downloaded.
“Remoras,” was all the president said, his voice flat as he stared at his monitor.
“They’re looking for the drone,” said Naji.
Shazad placed a hand on Naji’s shoulder. “Then let’s not disappoint them,” he said.
Naji knew exactly what the man was saying. Moving the joystick forward, Naji commanded the drone to dive.
The wolf was wending its way to the sheep.
#
“This is Coven One to Covens Two and Three: any visuals?”
“Coven Two, that’s a negative. I’m seeing nothing but blue sky.”
“Coven Three is also negative. Suggest we move to coordinates east at vector two-five-six.”
“Copy that. Moving to vector two-five-six.”
As soon as the last word left Coven One’s lips, the wing to Coven Two’s fighter jet went up in an eruption of flame and broken metal, the section having been sheared off by a remora as the plane began to roll.
A Reaper drone suddenly sped by them as if they were standing still.
“Coven One to Two!”
“I’m going down, One.”
“Copy that! Go to protocol!”
“ Out! ”
As the wounded plane righted itself for a moment, its canopy suddenly popped free and the pilot ejected.
That left two planes with which to engage the drone.
#
The Reaper had zeroed in on the fighter jet that was on the eastern periphery of the trio--the one farthest from the group. As the mechanical predator fell back, the remaining two fighter jets banked away from each other in wide arcs, coming around behind the drone.
But the Reaper curved into an upward path, making an arc of its own, sweeping back to engage the jets.
The last remora on the drone’s back disconnected from its holding clamps and streamed forward on a preprogrammed route. It moved with immeasurable speed, the vehicle bobbing and weaving in open space, flipping and gyrating with uncanny ease as it bore down on the second fighter jet, chasing it as if in play. The jet rolled in clockwise revolutions before banking hard to the left, then to the right, trying its best to shake off the remora that was closing fast.
In a move worthy of an air show, the fighter flipped and executed an immediate vertical rise. But the remora did the same, following in the jet’s path until they collided, the remora and its five pounds of Semtex igniting a fireball explosion four miles above the Earth’s floor.
The pilot never had a chance to eject.
Coven One continued its pursuit of the Reaper that had emptied its entire payload. The drone headed east, then south, its course a winding one as the jet locked on and fired a missile. The projectile disengaged from the plane’s undercarriage and took flight, closing the gap between them in seconds. It struck the drone, ending the service life of a fifteen million dollar piece of artillery.
“Coven One to Base.”
“Go, Coven One.”
“We have one for pickup and one KIA. Do you copy?”
“We copy, Coven One. We have support on its way.”
“Also note: the tango is down. I repeat: the tango is down.”
“We copy, Coven One.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Raven Rock, the Underground Pentagon
By the time Marine One landed safely at the Raven Rock helipad, Base Command was up and running.
The nerve center was a cavern-like room with banks of LCD monitors occupying the entirety of the east wall. A massive, rectangular table acting as the space's centerpiece was large enough to sit two dozen people comfortably, with each seat fronting a computer station including an integrated flip screen.
President Carmichael had flown in key people from his administration, including the leading principals of America’s intelligence agencies, including the CIA, NSA, the DNI and the FBI; his national security A-listers. Before them, each had their high-definition tabletop screens raised while images downloaded.
“Remoras,” was all the president said, his voice flat as he stared at his monitor.
Similar Books
