Chapter 1 #2
Amid the celebration, one of the technicians noticed a problem. After confirming it wasn’t on the receiving end, he alerted Offerman. “General, we’re losing telemetry on the EAGL.”
The celebration hit a wall. The laughter died. Everyone turned back to the screens they’d been watching earlier. Video from the chase planes showed the aircraft flying straight and level. It appeared fine.
“What data blocks are dropping out?” Offerman asked.
“We’ve lost navigation,” the technician said. “Speed, altitude, heading, temperature.”
On another screen, which showed a virtual mock-up of the cockpit, the indicators went from accurate numbers to a series of question marks. Seconds later they became dashed lines. Engine readouts failed next.
“Were losing laser telemetry now,” a technician from Scion reported.
Offerman wavered as he felt a sudden numbness in his knees. If not for the view from the chase plane they would have no way of knowing if the C-17 was still flying or had exploded midair.
“Contact the pilot,” Offerman said calmly.
The Air Force communication specialist put in several calls, but to no avail. “No response.”
“Aircraft is turning and descending,” someone called out.
“Contact the chase planes,” Offerman ordered. “Find out what the hell is going on.”
The communications specialist made the calls. “Blue Shadow Leader, this is Bullfrog. We’ve lost communications and telemetry with the EAGL. Track shows it changing course and descending. Can you confirm?”
The fighter pilot’s steely voice came back an instant later. “Confirmed. EAGL is departing approved course. Aircraft is not responding to radio calls.”
“Look at this,” the Scion representative said.
He’d pulled up a low-resolution feed from the cameras inside the aircraft.
The video wasn’t watched live because it was really only useful to review the crew performance after the fact.
It showed the laser technicians slumped in their chairs.
Caldwell’s body could be seen on the floor, a swath of dark liquid seeping out from underneath him.
“Damn,” someone blurted out. “It’s a hijacking.”
Offerman wasted no more time. “Send the self-destruct signal. Take it down.”
Keys were turned. A switch guarded by plastic glass was revealed. The keys were turned again, arming the system. The Air Force staff sergeant in charge of the self-destruct system looked up for confirmation.
“Do it,” Offerman snapped.
The switch was pressed and held. The signal went out via satellite. A sickening delay followed during which Offerman wondered what his next career would be after blowing up a billion-dollar aircraft. At least he’d go out with a bang.
Every eye focused on the view from the chase plane, awaiting a series of explosions that would start in the center of the fuselage, rupture the fuel lines, and quickly produce a massive fireball.
But nothing happened.
The sergeant reset the system and sent the signal again. “No response,” he announced.
Curses filled the room. The assembled officers couldn’t believe what they were seeing and hearing.
Offerman grabbed the microphone and spoke to the F-35 pilots. “Chase team, this is Bullfrog actual. The EAGL has been hijacked. I repeat, the EAGL has been hijacked. I’m giving you a direct order: Shoot down that plane.”
The lead pilot responded in a businesslike tone, asking for a code word only they and Offerman knew.
“Confirmation code Red Whistle Falcon,” Offerman said.
“Red Whistle confirmed,” the fighter pilot replied. “Stand by.”
General Offerman turned to the screen in time to see a missile launched from one of the F-35s. It raced forward in a trail of smoke, exploding long before it reached the EAGL. A second missile met the same fate.
“They’re using the laser,” someone shouted.
The screen flared once more as the first F-35 exploded in a ball of flame. Offerman pressed the talk switch, communicating with the second chase plane. “Shadow Two, switch to guns,” he snapped. “Fire immediately! Fire imm—”
It was too late. This time there was no explosion, only a flare on the lens, followed by static. A moment later, the screen went dark, and the words Signal Loss appeared at the top.
Offerman froze, stunned into silence while staring at the dark screen.
Somewhere over the Arctic, the second fireball in the sky was dimming.
It marked the end of Falcon Two and the beginning of a new danger, the true depths of which Offerman struggled to fathom.
They’d built a machine that could rule the sky, proven its worth in a difficult test, and now lost it to parties unknown.
Reality began to sink in. Offerman felt his hands trembling. He tucked them in his pockets and tried to slow his breathing. “Give me the EAGL’s last known position and heading.”
The technician gave a position report and then announced a heading. “One-five-five degrees.”
The men in the room didn’t need a map to tell them where that heading would take the plane. They’d spent their lives preparing for combat with the Russian bear. A heading of one-five-five would take the EAGL to Russia, directly to the sprawling military complex in the port city of Murmansk.
“Get me the Pentagon,” Offerman said grimly. “We need to deliver the bad news.”