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KRUGER AND SPECTRE were flown to Nellis by Jenny an hour after they had landed in their SU-30s. They were wearing the same non-descript flight suits as before, although this time Kruger wore Colonel rank on his shoulders. As Jenny taxied the Gulfstream to a stop on the transient ramp, the Wing Executive Officer was once again waiting to escort them.
They were taken to the Red Flag building, processed through security, and given visitor badges. They were escorted into the vault where pilots from multiple countries were rushing about. The Wing Exec explained that they had been in the middle of an international Red Flag and all aircraft had been recalled and the exercise terminated for the day in the wake of the Class A mishap.
Spectre had been there once before while flying the F-16. He had participated in a Red Flag shortly before his second deployment to Iraq. It had been an eye-opening experience to see all of the various aircraft come together in such a massive exercise, simulating the first week of a major conflict. He wondered if these aviators would soon be putting their training to the test in a war with North Korea. It was starting to seem more and more likely.
The Wing Exec took them upstairs to yet another inner vault and walked them into a briefing room where two men were sitting and talking. The older pilot was a Lieutenant Colonel and his nametag simply read “Dawg” while the younger pilot was a Captain who went by “Blade.”
Dawg turned and faced Kruger and Spectre as they walked in behind the Wing Exec.
“Sir, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Colonel Young and Captain Willis. Captain Willis is the mishap wingman from today’s event,” the Wing Exec said to Kruger before turning to the two pilots. “Gentlemen, this is Colonel Kruger and Major Specter, Air Force liaisons to DARPA.”
The pilots shook Spectre and Kruger’s hands. They were using cover identities given to them through the CIA to allow them full access to the base and its aircrew.
“Were you one of the pilots that flew into Restricted Area Sixty-Nine-Oh-One?” Kruger asked the Lieutenant Colonel.
“No, sir,” Dawg replied.
“Then you are excused,” Kruger replied gruffly as he nodded to the Wing Exec.
“Sir, I’d like to sit in on this meeting,” Dawg replied.
Kruger looked at the young captain sitting at the table. His eyes were bloodshot and he had the all-too-familiar thousand-yard stare Kruger had seen a hundred times before. “You okay, son?”
“I’m fine,” Blade replied.
“Sir, with all due respect, this is my squadron,” Dawg protested. “I have a pilot in critical condition from being hit by what I can only assume by your presence is your aircraft. I think I deserve answers.”
“You deserve answers?” Kruger asked angrily.
Spectre could see the rage building in Kruger and intervened. “It’s fine. We’ll debrief both of you when this is done. Let’s start with why two Raptors were in the restricted area in the first place.”
“Is this safety privileged as part of the Safety Investigation Board?” Dawg asked.
Before Kruger could reach across the table and strangle the irritating squadron commander, Spectre motioned for him to sit. Dawg reluctantly complied and they all sat at the table.
“Look, we’re not here for anything other than to find out what happened and protect our program. We’re not part of the SIB or AIB or anything like that. We just need answers because what we’re doing is vital to national security,” Spectre said as they sat.
“I wasn’t asking you, Major,” Dawg replied and looked to Kruger. “Sir, I just want to protect my people. That’s all.”
“Alright, bub, I’ve had enou-”
Spectre suddenly slammed his hand down on the table and pointed at Dawg. “Hey, dipshit, look at me.”
“Excuse me?” Dawg asked as both he and the captain jumped.
“You need to check your ego for a second and listen very carefully,” Spectre said in a low growl. “You have no idea who or what you’re dealing with right now. We’re trying to do this the easy way, but if you keep this up, we’re going to have to resort to alternative means. And I don’t think you want to piss off the good colonel any more than you already have.”
Dawg ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Spectre. “It’s been a long week and today has been a nightmare. My guy is in surgery and we’re all a little on edge right now. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Look, I get it,” Spectre said. “We all want the same thing here. Just answer the questions and we’ll be on our way so you can go deal with this mess. Fair?”
“Fair enough,” Dawg replied.
“Good call, bub,” Kruger said ominously.
“Blade, what happened?” Spectre asked the captain.
“We were escorting the strikers into the target area and Taco’s nav system dumped,” Blade replied.
“Taco was your flight lead?” Spectre asked.
Blade nodded.
“Major Dave Lory,” Dawg added.
“Then what happened?” Spectre asked.
“We set up our CAPs and Taco said he was going to reset the system,” Blade replied. “A few seconds later, he came back and said it was up and he was targeting a bogey, but the bullseye position he gave was out of the airspace.”
“And for the rules of engagement, a bogey was...”
“Unknown aircraft without hostile intent,” Dawg said.
“Continue,” Spectre said.
“I tried to tell him that he was targeting something outside the airspace, but our comms were being jammed and it was intermittent.”
“So, he went to visually ID it?” Spectre asked.
Blade nodded. “I left my CAP to support him.”
“Did you also pick up the aircraft with your sensors?” Spectre asked.
Blade nodded. “A few minutes later he called a visual ID over the fight frequency that he had ID’d a hostile Flanker and then the next call was that they had run into each other and he was punching out.”
“He said Flanker over the radio?” Spectre asked.
“I think so,” Dawg replied. “It all happened so fast, but I remember being confused because we weren’t fighting any Flankers. I figured he was just confused or it was a red air F-15 painted to look like a Flanker or contract red air or something.”
Spectre and Kruger exchanged a look.
“Did you see the aircraft?” Spectre asked.
Blade shook his head. “No, by the time I got there, Taco had ejected. I assumed the role of on scene commander and started working search and rescue assets to go get him. I never saw anything else.”
“How many aircraft were on frequency when he called the ID?” Spectre asked.
“All of the blue players plus the AWACS...Geez, I dunno. Thirty?”
“Can you give us the room for a second?” Kruger asked abruptly.
“Sure,” Dawg said. “We’ll be right outside.”
“Thank you,” Kruger said.
He waited for the two pilots to leave and then turned to Spectre.
“We’re done,” Kruger said. “There’s no way to salvage this.”
“Well, not necessarily,” Spectre said. “It sounds like the only guy that actually saw us was the flight lead.”
“And he called it out on the radio for everyone to hear,” Kruger replied. “Right before he ran into us. They’re going to investigate that. Not to mention, Woody was pretty shaken up after. I don’t think there’s any way to put the genie back in the bottle.”
Spectre shook his head. “This is the Air Force. The investigation will take weeks and the initial investigation is safety privileged anyway. By the time anyone knows about it, we’ll be long gone. Besides, we can blame it on contract red air.”
“Contract red air?”
“Yeah, the government is spending money to have contractors act as adversaries. We could easily come up with a cover story that we were testing these aircraft for the Lyons Group Aviation Consultants. Coolio could make that happen with a few keystrokes, and I’m sure we can get the CIA to help create the paperwork to make it look legit,” Spectre said.
Kruger considered it for a moment. “If you’re wrong and this gets out, don’t cry to me when you’re rotting in a North Korean prison, bub.”
Spectre smiled. “I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner. I’m sure it will work.”