D
allas Stone’s voice came over the mission center speakers. “The F-35 is turning west. If it maintains its current course, it will be flying over the North Korean mainland in under five minutes.”
“Gage, please patch my phone into the speakers so we can all hear,” Hail asked his friend.
Renner did some computer voodoo, and Kara’s private conversation with Pepper became public. Hail held out his hand and Kara placed his phone in it.
“This is Hail,” he began, talking through the microphones in the room. “What the hell is going on with your F-35? Are you guys crazy? This moron jet pilot is going to bring a load of heat down on us and for absolutely no reason.” Hail was mad and his tone did nothing to disguise that fact.
In contrast, Pepper’s tone was contrite. “We know. It would appear that we’re having a possible communications problem with our Navy pilot, or there may be an issue that’s out of our control.”
Hail looked at Kara and she looked back at him with a blank expression. “What issue are you talking about?” Hail demanded.
Pepper paused for a moment, and Hail sensed the news was going to be even worse than he had anticipated. “We may have a rogue pilot on our hands,” Pepper said shamefully.
“Jesus,” Hail groaned.
Kara looked both sickened and ashamed.
“Hold for a second,” Hail told Pepper.
Hail pressed the mute button on his phone and turned to Renner. “Get us the hell out of here. Let’s head south at best speed.”
“Absolutely,” Renner agreed.
Hail unmuted his phone and let it fall back into his lap, unsure what was left to be said. As far as he was concerned, Pepper, and for that matter, the entire Washington entourage had screwed him. They could have easily told him about their back-up plan, but they chose not to. And to Marshall Hail, that meant they had purposely put him and his crew in danger. Hail chastised himself for not taking Renner’s advice to carry out the mission from Indonesian waters. They could have launched the drones from the Hail Laser’s catapult and still have run the operation a thousand miles away. So, there was enough blame to go around, but if Pepper and his tribe hadn’t put a crazy pilot into the air, then the mission would have played out exactly as planned.
“Are you still there?” Pepper asked.
“Yeah,” Hail said. He said Yeah like it was a cuss word. “But I don’t know what we have to talk about. We’re bugging out. This pilot thing is your mess, not mine.”
Pepper didn’t say anything, so Hail pressed the END button on his phone.
“Let’s finish this,” Hail told Renner.
Renner returned to his control station and accessed the drone called Men at Work.
The pilots who had flown the THINGS had left their stations and were standing around the room watching the video on the big screens being sent by Men at Work and Blondie.
Gage Renner pulled in the throttle trigger and angled the propellers to the right. Still on its side, the drone was dragged a few feet before righting itself and taking flight. The drone gained altitude quickly, and for the first time, Hail and his crew got a look at the devastation from above. As the drone passed over the missing warehouse roof they saw the floor of the warehouse was now replaced by a large pit. Tons of flammable debris had fallen into the shallow pit and was burning, creating North Korea’s largest campfire.
“Wow,” Kara said. “There is absolutely nothing left.”
The areas inside the warehouse where the large perfect missile sections had once rested, wrapped snuggly in protective plastic, now looked like jagged metal teeth that protruded from dirt and broken concrete.
“We did all of that,” Hail reminded Kara. “We didn’t need your help.”
Kara shot back, “It wasn’t me.”
“Could you have stopped it? Could you have warned me?” Hail asked, but it sounded more like condemnation.
Kara said nothing, and Hail added, “I thought so.”
Renner’s drone had finished its pass over the warehouse and had flown back over the fence and was closing in on Blondie’s position in the field.
He asked Knox, “Give me a light, please?”
Knox reached down and flipped on an icon that read ID LIGHT.
An infrared light appeared on Men at Work’s video feed. Renner turned toward it and continued to fly out into the field and toward Blondie’s light.
Dallas Stone’s voice came over the mission room’s speakers, “The North Koreans have eyes on the F-35. Prince’s radar just detected two military aircraft taking off from Wonsan Air Base.”
“Damn,” Hail said. “Do we have any idea what type of aircraft they scrambled?”
“Checking now,” Stone said. A moment later, “This doesn’t look good. The ICAO ping indicates they are Chengdu J-20s.”
Renner and Hail looked at each other, confused about the information.
“Are you sure? The Chengdu J-20 is the new Chinese superjet. How in the world could North Korea get their hands on those?”
Dallas came back with, “You got me. I Googled it, and you’re right. They shouldn’t have any.”
Hail looked at Renner and rolled his eyes.
“The Chengdu J-20 is a badass aircraft,” Dallas added. “They were built specifically to go up against the American F-35.”
“I understand. Thanks, Dallas,” Hail said.
Then almost as an afterthought, Hail told Stone, “Bring the ship’s railgun online and load a guided projectile.”
“Roger that, Skipper,” Stone responded.
Hail turned to Kara who was still standing nervously next to him. “Your pilot is in a world of hurt,” he told her.
Kara gave him an angry look and said, “I told you, it wasn’t my call.”
Hail ignored her and looked back to Renner and asked him, “What’s the status of Men at Work?”
“I’m already down,” Renner said.
Hail looked at the screen. Both Blondie’s and Men at Work’s cameras showed the identical image. It was the same long-distance shot of the burning warehouse. Renner had landed Men at Work on the back of Blondie.
“Do it,” Hail told Renner.
Without hesitation, Renner typed in four digits and pressed the icon on the screen labeled SELF DESTRUCT. Men at Work blew another deep hole into the North Korean soil, blowing Blondie to tiny pieces along with it.