The observer smiled and clicked the stop button.
Nothing remained on the main wall display as well. The position hacks of the three attackers had faded, ghostlike, from the screen at the moment of the last missile launch. The track of the fourth invader, the one that had ambushed the Combat Air Patrol, had disappeared as well, dissipating as it had spiraled down toward the desert.
All that remained in the sky over the A-GCC were the two humiliated Air Guard F-16s, returning to their base.
The observer pocketed his watch, left his corner and walked to where Cassin
stared at the master screen. “Thank you, Colonel,” he said. “You and your staff have been most helpful. This exercise is concluded. ”
Then he turned and left the command center.
USS Bon Homme Richard, LHD-6
48 Miles off San Diego, California
0058 Hours; Zone Time, September 25, 2008
The first warning the steaming watch in the wheelhouse had was the appearance of the Marine sentry. Crossing to the portside bridge windows, the Marine tugged on the tapes that bound up the canvas dodger mounted over the windscreen. Unrolling the canvas to block out the view of the big amphib’s full length flight deck, he put his back to the windows and went to a watchful parade rest.
The helm and lee helmsman at the wheel and engine controls exchanged glances,
but the Officer of the Watch murmured, “Eyes forward, gentlemen. You know the drill.”
A few moments later, a voice rolled from the ship’s MC-1 loudspeakers. “Stand by to recover aircraft. Stand by to recover aircraft. Set all special
security protocols. Secure all topside video cameras. All unauthorized
personnel proceed below decks immediately. I say again, all unauthorized
personnel proceed below decks immediately.”
For the past week, the crew of the Bonne Homme Richard, affectionately referred to by all hands as “The Bonny Dick”, had been involved in some very deep mojo indeed.
The Wasp class LHD had been designed and intended to carry the bulk of a Marine Expeditionary Unit and its supporting air elements. On this cruise however, someone else had come aboard and had taken over. Just who was a matter of some conjecture.
The Air One Flight Control Center at the aft end of the LHD’s island was manned by a complement of the mysterious strangers. Likewise, the aircraft handling details and fire and crash crews standing to on the flight deck were also numbered among the nameless.
The ship’s aviation service spaces had also been declared off limits with the after half of the hangar bay walled off by a tarpaulin barricade, guarded by prowling, pistol packing Marine sentries.
Nor was this security contingent made up of commonplace leathernecks. These were Fleet Marine Force, the same hand-picked unit that stood guard over the navy’s nuclear weapons arsenals.
Shipboard scuttlebutt had naturally run wild, but no concrete conclusions had yet been reached.
The watch officer tilted his head, listening to the voice in his command headset.
“Helmsman, come left to zero nine eight true. Put her across the wind.”
“Helm coming left to zero nine eight true, sir.”
They were swinging across the wind to recover the VTOL aircraft.
A trilling roar began to filter down from the night. The crew of the Bonny Dick had become very well-acquainted with that sound over these past two weeks. It was very similar to the sound of the conventional helicopters they were accustomed to handling, but not quite the same. Not quite.
Whatever they were, they only flew after dark, launching after sunset and returning before dawn. Daylight would find the flight deck empty.
The shipboard speculators had one more clue to mull over. The airdales and aviators who had come aboard to maintain and fly this mystery air group all wore the same odd little unit patch on their flight and service gear. There was no unit name, number or motto on the simple circular black device, just the horizontal slash of a silver lightning bolt morphing into a red-eyed striking Cobra, its fangs bared.
*
Still wearing his life jacket and survival gear harness over a camo-pattern flight suit, the wiry naval aviator with the movie star’s face came to a relaxed parade rest before Captain DeVille’s desk.
“How did it go tonight, CAG?” The Bon Homme Richard’s commander inquired, using the anachronistic but traditional acronym for ‘Commander Air Group.’ As the one man of the LHD’s compliment authorized to know the nature and intent of the black squadron carried by his vessel, he had the privilege of asking.
“Pretty good, sir,” the aviator smiled. “In fact, it couldn’t have gone better. I’m damn pleased with how this outfit is dialing in, especially with all of the
developmental work we still have to do with the technology. I’d say we’re damn near deployable as we stand.”
The LHD’s skipper replied with an ironic smile of his own. “I’m pleased to hear that, Vince. After you launched this evening, we received a
flash red from NAVSPECFORCE headquarters at Pearl.”
DeVille unlocked a desk drawer and removed a message flimsy, passing it to the
younger officer. “We’ve been ordered to abort your training cruise two days early. The SPEED Cobras
are to be flown off to Edwards Air Force Base tomorrow night and we’ll land your support personnel and equipment at Coronado the following morning.
I am authorized to inform you that your squadron is to be airlifted out of
Edwards to an undisclosed forward staging base within the next seventy-two
hours.”
Deville handed a second flimsy across the desk. “There was a second communication designated specifically for you.”
Commander Vincent Arkady’s expression went from amiable enthusiasm to thoughtful neutrality as he considered the flimsy. Its sender was Admiral Elliot MacIntyre and its message was succinct in the extreme.
One word:
NOW.
Arkady looked up from the message. “It says all it needs to, Captain.”
CNN Television
1920 Hours; Zone Time, September 30, 2008
“Senator Donovan, you’ve been a player in our current controversial involvement in the Indonesian
crisis from the beginning. Now it appears to be evolving into the Amanda
Garrett crisis. Do you have any input for us in this recent turn of events?”
“Firstly, Larry, I’d like to make it clear that both I and my party have stood firmly against the
Childress administration’s reckless brand of cowboy interventionism, not only in Indonesia but around the
world. Having said that, I must also say that a loose cannon spawns loose
cannons.”
“How do you mean, Senator?”
