| |
––––––––
Friday Afternoon
Rick sleeps. The rhythmic rocking and creaking of the old subway car traveling through quiet calm was a force too strong to resist. Rick dreams. Courtney stands in a gray fog calling out in search of her husband. Rick looks up in fright. The black sky erupts with fire; bright orange streaks fill the night. Courtney cries out as the gray fog winds around her like a python. The dense fog encapsulates her body as the snaking cloud turns to granite trapping her in solid rock. Rick tries to run to his wife. He runs and runs but does not move. Meteors explode in the sky, raining fiery hell around him as he runs. A wet tear drips from Courtney’s eye streaming clumsily down her rocky cheek. Rick struggles to escape the firestorm and rescue Courtney. A meteor hits the ground and explodes throwing Rick through the air. He lands with a hard thump.
The subway car jolts to a stop. Rick wakes to a shock. Jin and Becky locked in an intimate kiss. He shudders as the embarrassed observer. Their eyes open. Their lips reluctantly separate.
“Come on, love birds. Looks like this is the end of the line. Let’s find out where Aman sent us.” The subway door opens with a gritty sound. As the images of his dream fades, he thinks of Courtney.
The trio exits the boxy subway car and stands in a small station. A faded blue-winged insignia adorns the wall next to a metal door with an exit sign above it.
“This looks like our way out,” Jin says, walking to the door.
Rick hesitates.
Becky senses Rick’s caution. “This is the end of the subway. There’s only one exit. I don’t think Curtis and Aman would send us here if it wasn’t safe.” Becky pushes the metal bar on the door and walks through to a stairwell.
Five flights up the stairs and the trio finds another metal door. This time Rick pushes the metal bar, but the door won’t open.
“Something is holding it closed. Help me push it,” Rick says to Jin. They push the stubborn door together. “It’s opening, but there’s a metal shelf blocking the door,” says Jin.
“Push harder.” The feet of the shelf scrape loudly on the floor as it moves. The push until the opening is wide enough to squeeze through, stepping into a brightly lit convenience store.
“The store looks open, but nobody’s here,” says Jin.
“Hello. Hello!” Becky calls out as she walks through the store.
Rick looks around. “No staff. No customers. It’s snack time!” He grabs a bag of potato crisps and munches on salty chips as he wanders through the store. He notices a sign above the entrance. “Fairchild Express, I wonder if anyone knows there’s an express train below the store.”
“Where are we? The place is deserted,” says Becky.
“I don’t like to shoplift, but I’m starving and since no one is here, oh well,” Jin says as he stuffs his pockets with pastries and packages of nuts. Becky searches for healthier snack choices.
Rick takes a deep breath. “Fresh Air.” The air is fresh and clear. “Guess I don’t need this anymore.” He pulls on the D-Nox ring to remove it from his nose. The ring is lodged deeper in his nostrils than he expected and hurts when he pulls it. He tugs harder and twists to pull it out.
“Hey Jin, Becky. You don’t need this anymore,” he says, holding the ring for them to see before tossing it to the floor. The ring wiggles on the floor until Rick crushes it under his boot.
Jin carefully pulls the ring from his nose. The ring pops out with a snap. He lets out a long “Ooouch,” then continues his shopping spree.
Becky pulls on her D-Nox ring, but it doesn’t want to come out. She strains crossing her eyes as she pulls and wiggles the ring. “Mine doesn’t want to come out.” She gives a long steady pull. The fleshy appendages have extended deep into her nostrils. “It’s stretching. It won’t let go. Ah!” Becky pulls the ring an inch away from her nose, but the tentacle-like fleshy arms stretch, holding fast.
Rick notices Becky struggling with the ring. “Give it a good tug.”
“They’re going back in!” Becky gives Rick a panicked look as she holds the ring away from her nose, the stretched flesh trying to wiggle deeper, unwilling to yield. She gives the ring a strong yank, and the ring snaps out. “Ouch!” Her eyes well with tears from the sharp pain in her sinuses.
Becky looks at the ring. The long wormy arms are speckled with blood. She squeaks, tosses the ring, then wipes a drip of blood from her nose.
Jin looks out a window and spots a familiar building across a grassy promenade. “It’s the Air Force Academy,” he says to himself, then speaks louder. “We’re at the Air Force Academy,” he calls out to get Rick and Becky’s attention.
They look across a courtyard and a grassy field. In the distance is the Cadet Chapel with its iconic design of seventeen spires rising one hundred fifty feet into the sky. The building glistens in the afternoon sun.
Antique jets rising from the quad on steel pedestals decorate each corner of the field. Parked at the center of the field is a sleek modern jet with the canopy open. Rick smiles. “Did anyone order an airplane?”
Becky looks around. “It’s so quiet. The entire campus is deserted.”
“I guess asteroid storms spoil school attendance,” Rick says, eyeing the jet.
Jin works with his VUE. “I’ll tap into the Academy net.”
“That jet could be our ticket home. Let’s check it out,” Rick says, enthusiastically pulling Becky and Jin out the door leading to the courtyard.
As they run across the courtyard three sonic booms in quick succession, pound the air. Rick stops to look up. He doesn’t see any meteors. Three supersonic jets top the mountains west of the chapel and roar as they fly over the Academy grounds at low altitude and great speed. The trio ducks under a tree with a thick canopy to shield themselves.
“It’s got to be Kobalt. Let’s go,” shouts Rick as he runs to the jet and climbs the metal ladder to the cockpit. From the top of the ladder, Rick calls back, “It’s a two-seater!”
“Can you fly a jet?” asks Becky.
“I used to fly Cessna’s with my Uncle. The fundamentals should be the same. How different can this be?” says Rick.
Jin examines the jet on his VUE. The display fills with information and details about the aircraft. “This is a TX-200B, advanced Air Force training aircraft capable of vertical take-off and landing with a top speed of Mach 1.8 or 1,370 miles per hour with a range of 1,200 nautical miles and a climb rate of 45,000 feet per minute. The TX-200 trainer can—”
Rick interrupts Jin. “Hey, buddy, like I said, how different can it be. You’re in first. Climb up. Becky will sit on your lap. It might be cozy. Just squeeze in,” Rick says as he steps into the pilot’s seat and pulls on the helmet.
“It’s the only plane we have so we’ll make do,” Becky says as she pushes Jin up the ladder.
Jin scrambles into the rear instructor’s seat sitting as low as possible to make room for Becky. Becky sits on his lap. “There isn’t enough room for both of us and the helmet. This has to go,” Jin says as he tosses the helmet onto the grass.
The instructor’s seat sits behind and above the pilot, allowing the instructor to look over the pilots’ shoulder. “Wow, nice view from up here. It’s like stadium seating,” says Becky.
Curtis’s image appears in Jins VUE. “Hey, did you guys make it out of the subway? We lost signal.”
“Yeah, thanks to you and Aman we made it out of New Zion,” says Jin.
Becky feels cramped, and her foot is twisted. She presses her hands on Jin’s thighs to raise up and straighten her foot. The snacks in Jin’s pockets squish and crackle. Once Becky’s foot is free, she drops on Jin.
“Ah, ouch! You crushed my Twinkie,” Jin cries.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to get comfortable,” Becky apologizes as she wiggles her hips.
“Sorry, guys. I hope I’m not interrupting something,” says Curtis.
“Hang on, Curtis. We’re busy,” Jin says, breathing hard with the weight of Becky on him.
Curtis hides his eyes. “Oh Jesus. Sorry.”
All Jin can see is the back of Becky’s head. He looks to the left and right to view out the sides of the canopy. “OK, Rick. We’re in. You sure you can fly this thing?” Jin asks.
“Fly? What? Hey, where are you guys?” Curtis asks.
Rick looks at the cockpit. He expected to see a dizzying arrangement of switches, indicators, and dials, but finds a clean flight console equipped with three touch screens encircling the pilot, a flight stick, throttle control, and a few switches. It’s like nothing he’s seen before.
“I used to fly my uncle’s Cessna Skyhawk, but that was years ago. This is different, but I think I can figure it out. I just need a minute,” Rick says as he examines the flight controls.
“Good news, we made it to the Air Force Academy. Bad news, the bad guys are here, too. Good news, we found a jet. Bad news, the bad guys have jets too!” Jin recaps.
Curtis leans back in his chair with a stunned look and mouths. “OK.”
Rick flips a switch cover open and presses the power button. Screens in the cockpit come to life and a graphical interface appears in his helmet. He touches an icon marked canopy. The canopy closes. Becky wiggles scrunching lower, allowing the glass cover to lock closed. “Hey, watch the Twinkie,” Jin squawks.
Becky’s face is five inches from the instructors’ screen, which is a duplicate of the pilots’ display. A list of training modules appears. Becky presses the TX-200 introduction module. A video plays on Rick’s center screen, showing the exterior of the TX-200 narrated by a gruff training instructor’s voice.
“Welcome to the TX-200 trainer. As a qualified cadet, you have fulfilled hours of classroom and simulator training. Your training now continues in the TX trainer and the advanced flight training modules. Once in the air, your instructor will select a training module. I am your flight nom. I handle all tasks related to navigation, management of flight computers, and control surfaces. The Fly-by-Wire and Advanced Flight Control Systems take care of the flying, allowing you to focus on your mission objectives. Think of the TX-200 as your office in the sky. I know you want to pilot the aircraft. This is unnecessary. You can trust and rely on the automated flight controls to do the flying. However, you can override the system and take control via the flight stick and throttle if your instructor allows. I will assist and guide you as needed. Training modules include various mission scenarios. You must successfully accomplish all assigned mission objectives before advancing to the next module.”
Rick spots the three jets approaching again. “Our friends are back. I think we will skip class today. Becky, can you mute the nom and override the flight system? We need to get out of here.” Three Scramjets roar past, buzzing the top of the Cadet Chapel at a blazing speed, heading east.
“Looks like they were expecting us,” says Jin, trying to get a good look at the jets as they whiz past. His VUE locks on to the image of the trailing jet and fills with information about the Scramjet. The TX-200 shakes from the wake of the low-flying craft.
Buckley Air Force Base–Aurora, CO
A radar operator spots aircraft making passes over the Air Force Academy. He alerts the Officer in Command. “Sir, we have three unauthorized aircraft making passes over the Academy flying at low altitude and high velocity. I also have a slow-moving helicopter coming in from the South.”
“Where did they come from? We’re supposed to have control of this airspace!”
“The three aircraft came out of nowhere, sir. The helicopter appears to be from Fort Carson,” a radar operator replies.
“Operators, you cannot just focus on Denver. Keep your eyes open. Get three F-35’s over there pronto. Don’t engage unless fired on. Let’s see what’s going on.” Three F-35’s hightail it to the Air Force Academy.
Rick watches the high-speed aircraft become small dots on the horizon.
“I don’t think they spotted us,” Becky says in a hopeful tone.
“At the speed they’re flying, I doubt they can see much of anything on the ground,” says Jin.
Rick flips a switch to start the engines. The TX-200 turbine engines turn with a whining sound.
Jin reads information in his VUE. “They are flying Hypersonic Scramjets capable of speeds up to Mach 6 with a ceiling elevation of eighty thousand feet. Without Scramjets engaged they travel at up to Mach 3. Wherever we’re going, they can get there faster.”
“Maybe we can get out of here before they come back. It’ll take a couple minutes for them to turn around and make another sweep. Let’s vamoose!” says Rick.
Becky notices another aircraft on the TX-200’s radar. “There’s another aircraft. It’s moving slowly, but it’s getting close,” Becky reports.
They hear the thumping beat of a helicopter rotor. The helicopter hovers over Fairchild Hall, like it's searching for something. It then passes over Mitchell Hall and moves toward the Terrazzo and the TX-200.
Jin watches the helicopter come in for a landing. He examines the copter in his VUE. “It’s an old Huey H-1. Looks like an antique but is armed and dangerous. They’re landing. I think they’re looking for us.” A squad of Black Guard jump out of the Huey while it’s still several feet above the ground and run toward the TX.
“Like I said, time to vamoose!” Rick exclaims. He punches VTOL on the screen and the turbines roar to life. The TX-200’s thrust vectoring nozzles point at the ground. The front turbofan provides stability as Rick increases thrust, pushing the TX-200 off the ground.
The Black Guard see the TX lifting off and start shooting. This time they’re firing real bullets.
Becky screams. “They’re shooting at us!”
Jin skims the specifications of the TX-200 in his VUE. Instead of reading the specifications out loud, Jin says, “Don’t worry. We’re bulletproof. At least from small-arms fire.”
Several bullets hit the aircraft as it skims across the ground. Becky closes her eyes, scrunching lower. “I hope you’re right.”
Rick moves the throttle forward. The aircraft rises faster in the air as the thrust nozzles rotate pushing the jet forward, passing over the Fairchild Building. Soon the TX-200 is flying like a jet.
The Huey takes off in chase leaving the Black Guard behind. It slowly gains altitude attempting to follow the TX. The Huey lines up behind the TX and fires its M240D machine guns. Bullets ping as they hit the TX. Rick punches the throttle and pulls back the flight stick. The TX-200 rockets into the sky climbing to fifteen thousand feet in thirty seconds leaving the Huey far behind.
Rick flies as fast as possible. Once they are clear of the Huey, he drops the TX to a low altitude heading south. “I’m engaging the Terrain-Following Radar. It’s like an autopilot that flies the aircraft to fly at very low altitude, hugging the ground. I’m hoping the terrain masking will help us avoid detection from their radar.”
Rick can select a hard, medium, or soft ride. The settings vary how closely the aircraft flies to the ground and the forces exerted on the pilot as the aircraft adjusts for changes in the terrain. Rick selects the icon marked hard. “Hang on. The ride could get rough.” The TX-200 dips flying closer to the ground. In less than a minute, they pass the city of Colorado Springs.
“Set destination. Las Vegas,” Rick instructs the flight nom. The navigation system routes the flight path for Las Vegas, and the aircraft adjusts course.
The sound of the helicopter firing on the TX jolts Kobalt to action. He calls the Scramjet pilots. “Split up. Cover north, west, and south. If I know Munday, the last direction he will go is east. There aren’t many planes in the air. Find that jet!” The Scramjets peel out of formation in search of the TX-200.
Kobalt’s jet heads west over the Rocky Mountains. Within a minute, the Scramjet heading south gets a hit. “Captain Kobalt. We have an Air Force TX-200 flying west-south-west at low altitude.”
“That’s him. Everyone is to join up heading south. We’ve got him,” Kobalt shouts confidently.
The TX’s Auto-Nav and TFR systems hug the ground at high speed, heading for Las Vegas. The jet rapidly rises and falls with the terrain at a constant elevation of ninety feet.
“You sure you can’t make this ride any rougher?” Becky asks through her chattering teeth.
“Sorry for the bumps. I’m hoping Kobalt won’t spot us at this altitude.”
The Scramjets fly in formation high above, and far ahead, of the TX.
“Time to play a game of chicken with Dr. Munday,” says Kobalt.
The Scramjets turn and drop elevation, setting a course to meet the TX-200 head on.
Jin shouts over the noise into Becky’s ear. “Beck, relax. I think we lost them. Thirty minutes from now, we’ll be landing at Curtis’s house.”
Rick watches the horizon as the landscape races past, keeping an eye out for Kobalt’s jets. He sees a black dot. He checks the radar. The screen shows three objects approaching fast.
“Oh shit. Here they come. Hang on!” Rick holds his hands just above the flight controls and switches the ride hardness to “medium.” The elevation of the TX rises slightly, reducing the jostling.
“They’re heading right for us,” cries Becky.
The Scramjets are moving so fast it’s difficult to judge distance. “We don’t have a lot of options here. We’re hugging the surface. If I drop altitude, the wake from the Scramjets could force the TX down. If I turn and the terrain changes, we could hit a wingtip. That leaves only one direction. My uncle always told me to face my fears head on.”
At these speeds, jets cover great distances in seconds. The Scramjets are almost on them. Impact is a certainty. Becky clenches Jin’s thighs closing her eyes. “I can’t watch.”
As the Scramjets bear down on the TX, Jin nervously repeats, “Oh man, oh man, oh man.”
Rick grabs the flight stick, pulling it back hard while jamming the throttle to the max. The TX responds instantly, shooting straight into the sky just as the Scramjets pass. Flames from the TX afterburners lick the canopy of Kobalt’s jet.
The G-forces of the rocketing TX push Rick deep into his seat, feeling double or triple his body weight. Becky squashes Jin and they both gasp for breath. Rick levels off momentarily before pointing the TX into a dive aiming for the cover of the surface. Hugging the surface is safer than being a sitting duck at high elevations.
As soon as Becky can breathe, she shouts, “Couldn’t you have just shot them, or something?”
“This is a trainer. No guns. Sorry. I didn’t have time to warn you.”
“Nice move Rick, but how are we going to lose these guys?” Jin asks.
“I’m thinking.” Rick pushes the jet to an altitude of two hundred feet traveling at six hundred miles per hour and reengages the TFR tracking. The TX dips toward Earth and begins its undulating movements as it tracks the terrain.
The Air Force F-35s spot the three Scramjets playing chicken with a TX-200 but keep their distance. The F-35 pilots cheer for the little TX as it suddenly pulls up to avoid a head on collision with the larger Scramjets. They watch the TX dive back to Earth. “Wow, that pilot is a tiger,” says one pilot.
“Those guys were moving at the speed of heat, warp one, man,” says the other.
“Request permission to engage the Scramjets. That TX is gonna need some help or he’ll end up a smoking hole, in no time.”
As the TX zips across the San Luis Valley, Rick spots an opening in the mountains ahead. He takes control of the TX and aims for Highway 160, which curves through the mountains. Rick reengages the TFR setting the ride hardness to “soft.” The TX gracefully traverses and swoops through the mountain passes. “This is better,” says Becky.
“The mountain scenery is stunning,” says Jin. Each turn of the jet displays a new panorama of snowcapped peaks, lakes, and streams. It’s a momentary solace from the menace, hunting to kill them.
The OIC calls the base commander requesting permission to engage the Scramjets. The Base Commander sends video streams from the F-35s to the Raven Rock Mountain Complex, an underground facility which serves as the Alternate National Military Command Center, in times of crisis.
Raven Rock patches the video through to nearby Camp David where the stream appears on screens in the underground command center where Tug Grimes and General Casey, Secretary of the Air Force get briefed on all developments.
The men watch the TX evade the Scramjets and dive for the deck. “Where did those Scramjets come from? We only have ten in our fleet. Last time I checked they’re all in Asia,” says the Air Force general.
Tug watches the TX and wonders. Just an hour earlier he received an e-mail from an analyst at Homeland with the name of the person suspected of broadcasting the Perth News. “Can the F-35s determine who’s flying that TX? And who’s flying the Scramjets? I’d like to know who’s who before the shooting starts.”
The Scramjets have turned and are now in pursuit of the TX, which is weaving its way through the mountain passes hugging the curves of Highway 160.
The F-35s use their CNI (Communications, Navigation, and Identification suite) software programmable radio to interrogate the radio and data transmissions of the TX and the Scramjets. An F-35 transmits the data received to the Base Commander and Camp David.
Military staff interpret the data and report their findings. “Secretary Grimes, the Scramjets are coming back as not registered. They aren’t ours. The TX-200 is assigned to the Air Force Academy for a demonstration day. We picked up data from a VUE lens worn by the occupant of the TX. The lens is registered to a civilian named Jin Goldberg.” The military staff member looks perplexed.
Tug Grimes stands. “Take out the Scramjets. The TX is friendly.”
Kobalt’s Scramjet advances until it’s flying above and behind the TX as it makes turns through the tight mountain passes. A Scramjet is a larger craft than the TX with enough room for the pilot, copilot, and six passengers. Scramjets are built for speed and high altitude, so they have a shorter wingspan than a conventional jet. Flying low and slow is a challenge for the Scramjet pilots.
Kobalt sits behind the pilot, giving orders. “Blow them out of the sky!”
The pilot fights to hold the Scramjet steady at low speed. “You know we aren’t armed. We don’t have any way to blow them out of the sky and I can’t hold this speed. We’ll crash if I don’t increase speed.” The pilot pushes the thrust forward and pulls back the flight stick. The lead Scramjet shoots into the sky followed by the other two.
As the Scramjets race high into the atmosphere, Kobalt thinks out loud. “We will crash. We’ll drop on top of them, forcing them down. Number Two will swoop down and land on top of the TX, forcing them down or into a mountainside. Number Three will line up behind Number Two in case Number Two fails. We’ll line up behind Number Three. Munday won’t have a chance.”
The pilots of the Scramjets aren’t very excited about this plan. They hope the TX will be the one crashing, and not of one of them.
Rick sweats knowing the Scramjets are bearing down on them. He hopes the zigzagging of the plane following the highway will make it harder to get a lock on the TX when suddenly the Scramjets zoom past them. “I thought for sure they were about to fire a missile and blow us out of the sky,” Rick says.
“Where did they go?” asks Becky.
“I thought we were goners. They must have had us in their sights,” says Jin.
The mountains fall away behind the TX as they fly over grassy plains.
“I don’t know what they’re up to, but I’m not waiting around to find out. We’ll be easier prey over these meadows,” Rick says as he takes control of the TX increasing speed as they fly over Lake Nighthorse.
Jin checks his VUE to read the specifications of the Scramjets again. “I’ve got it. I know what happened. We were going too slow through the mountains. They designed Scramjets fly very fast at high altitudes. We need to slow down.”
The TX flies over flat farmland at three hundred feet. “That makes no sense. We’re exposed out here. If we slow down, we’ll be easier to shoot out of the sky.”
Becky checks the map on her monitor. “Mesa Verde Canyon is up ahead. If we can get down in the canyon, it might give us some cover.”
“Mesa Verde here we come,” Rick says, as he pushes the throttle forward and jets screams across the low hills and farmland.
The Scramjets make a high turn then dive one after the other lining up in pursuit of the TX. Number Two leads the way with Number Three lined up behind leaving a two-mile gap between them. Kobalt’s jet hangs farther back to observe the impending crash of the TX and the death of Rick Munday.
The pilot of Scramjet Number Two reports. “I wish we could just heat up this nugget with a winder. He’s using all his go-juice burning for that canyon. We’re fangs out.”
Number Two speeds forward chasing the supersonic TX-200 across Colorado farmlands. “I’ll try to make the TX crash before it gets to the canyon.”
“They’re after us Rick. We’ll never make it to the canyon. Drop your speed. Slow down,” Jin urges.
“They’ll shoot us. Jin! Are you crazy?” exclaims Becky.
Rick eases up on the throttle and drops to two hundred feet. Becky feels the TX slowing. “You’ll get us killed.”
“I think Jin’s right. Why haven’t they shot us? They could have easily launched missiles from miles away and blown us out of the sky before we ever saw them, but they didn’t,” Rick says as he decreases airspeed.
The Scramjets are chasing the TX-200 flying east to west. The three F-35s come in from the north flying down a mountain canyon toward the town of Mayday, Colorado. They watch the Scramjets swoop down and line up one behind the other after the TX.
“Isn’t that sweet? They’re lining up so nicely for us,” says one pilot.
Scramjet Number Two zooms close until he is just above and behind the TX. “He’s above us. He’s right on top of us! What’s he trying to do?” Becky asks, looking at the bottom of the Scramjet through the glass canopy.
“I’ve got a lock on the lead Scramjet, but he’s too close to the TX,” says one of the F-35 pilots.
The Scramjet pilot concentrates on getting directly above the TX while struggling to keep the larger jet stable at the slow speed. Rick looks up through the canopy, watching the plane above. The Scramjet pilot is about to drop his aircraft on the smaller TX. Rick engages the deceleron, creating an airbrake. The TX slows abruptly and slides behind the Scramjet, just as it drops.
The F-35 pilot sees the Scramjet pull ahead of the TX and lets his AIM-9X sidewinder air-to-air missile fly.
Rick disengages the deceleron and pushes the throttle to maneuver above the Scramjet. He pulls back on the flight stick and punches the throttle, hitting the unstable Scramjet with a burst of jet blast. The Scramjet dips to the right tipping toward Earth. At the low elevation even at the slow speed, the Scramjet has only seconds to adjust before slamming into the ground.
Becky and Rick watch the Scramjet dip and cheer triumphantly.
Jin wrenches his neck trying to see the Scramjet. “Is he going—?” Before he can finish his question, the sidewinder hits the Scramjet exploding in a fury of hot metal and fire. Becky screams as a wave of fire and heat envelope the TX.
Shrapnel from the shattered aircraft hits the TX with a ping, ping, ping, punching holes in the fuselage. Jin braces himself as the jet shutters from the blast. He holds Becky tighter. The F-35 pilots watch the Scramjet evaporate as the TX flies out of the eruption of fire.
“Two more lined up like ducks in a row. Let’s heat em up. I’ve got a lock.” The second pilot fires. An AIM-9X leaps off his wing, flying directly for Scramjet Number Three. The third F-35 pilot watches the rocket zoom across the sky toward the Scramjet for several seconds. He gets a lock on Scramjet Number One and fires his Sidewinder. Scramjet Number Three turns and speeds up, trying to outrun the guided missile. Death is delayed—for a second. The Scramjet explodes in a ball of fire.
Kobalt watches in horror as a missile fired by an unseen enemy, blows the first Scramjet out of the sky. He knows he has only seconds. If someone is targeting the Scramjets, they will not stop at shooting down just one of them. “Engage countermeasures,” the pilot yells.
Kobalt leaps from his seat. The aircraft door is two steps away. He lifts a lever to open the door. The door doesn’t open all the way, so he kicks it open and jumps out of the aircraft pulling the ripcord on his chute as soon as he clears the aircraft. He hears the explosion of Number Three being hit. Seconds later he watches Number One, his Scramjet, disintegrate in a ball of flames. Kobalt is the only survivor.
Kobalt hangs below his parachute shaking his fist and yells, “Damn you, Munday! Your luck won’t last.”
Scramjets are exploding. Rick looks to the east. It’s late afternoon. The storms will start soon, but so far, the skies are clear. Becky is screaming hysterically. She stops mid-scream and shouts, “What the hell is happening?” Rick levels off and returns to his original heading flying over Mesa Verde National Park.
The Three F-35s surround the TX. Becky shrieks. “Oh my God!” The lead F-35 flies in front of the TX and tips its wings left and right. “I’m not sure what that means, but at least they aren’t shooting at us,” says Jin.
“I think the cavalry arrived to save the day,” Rick says as he looks over to the F-35 on the left. Rick sees the pilot give a thumbs-up. Rick gives a thumbs-up in reply.
“They saved us. Jin, they saved us,” cries Becky.
“Rick was doing a decent job. But I’d say they showed up at the right time,” says Jin.
The lead F-35 pilot radios the TX-200. “Good flying, TX. Glad you made it through that. We are to escort you to Buckley Air Force Base.”
Rick keys his mic. “Thanks for your help. Much appreciated. Where’s Buckley? We’re flying to Las Vegas.”
“Buckley Air Force Base is near Denver. We are to escort you to Buckley by order of the Secretary of Defense. It seems you’ve made a friend. It was his order to intercept you.”
“I don’t know why the Secretary of Defense would be interested. Thanks for the offer, but we really need to get to Vegas.”
Gravity pulls six asteroids from space into Earth’s atmosphere, transforming them into super-heated meteors.
“I don’t ask questions. It’s above my pay grade. You’re out for a joy ride in a TX-200 being chased by supersonic Scramjets, of unknown origin. If the Secretary of Defense sends for you, you go. You’re going to Buckley.” The F-35s move in a tight formation surrounding the TX. If Rick tries to break formation, he will surely crash into one of the F-35s.
The air force jets bank in a slow wide turn with the TX at the center of the formation. As they turn the six meteors come into view soaring through the sky. In the distance a dozen more fireballs streak westward.
The lead pilot radios Rick. “Hey, buddy, storms are starting up. Time to hightail it back. You don’t want to be up here with those flaming bitches exploding.” The F-35s break formation and begin flying at speed to Buckley.
“Roger that,” says Rick, giving the pilot a nod. The F-35’s accelerate. Rick hesitates, letting the jets fly ahead.
It takes a few seconds for the lead pilot to figure out Rick is not hightailing it for Buckley. “Hey, what are you doing? I’m telling you once the skies heat up, you don’t want to be flying through that crap. If we weren’t at risk of being slammed by meteors, I’d drag you all the way back to Buckley.”
Rick turns west toward Vegas. “Sorry, like I said we’ve got to get to Vegas.”
The pilot doesn’t want to disobey orders, but he doesn’t want to risk flying through an exploding meteor, either. “All right. You want to stay out here in the middle of a meteor storm; you are no longer my responsibility. Adios, amigo.”
Rick resets the course for Las Vegas. “Muchas gracias, Captain. We appreciate your help. You saved the day. Please give our regards to the Secretary of Defense.” Rick pushes the throttle forward and jets toward Vegas.
