74

TWO PINK FIGHTERS CLIMB as the third swoops low over the Egyptian frigate, its 20 mm. cannons blazing at five hundred feet before it loops to come right back, sending two AGM Harpoon missiles into the Egyptian vessel’s superstructure.

It collapses like tinfoil.

On the frigate, the crew dives for cover, abandoning the very guns that are its only defense.

On her bridge, the admiral is both surprised and incensed. “What is that?”

His executive officer is already on the squawk box. “All hands, defensive posture. All hands, defensive posture. We are under aerial attack!”

“By whom?” the admiral shouts above the tumult. “Who has pink Hornets?”

“Super Hornets, excellency.”

“The fucking gays have an air force?”