Battle Born (57 page)

“The first thing I’ll need, sir,” Patrick said, “is the 111th Bomb Squadron, Nevada Air National Guard, and their planes, modified and flown up here as quickly as possible.”

“What?” Samson asked incredulously. “After what you went through with that bunch, you still want to use them? You can have their planes, Patrick—that’ll be a no-brainer. But the Nevada Air National Guard?”

“Sir, they are still the best Bone drivers in the business,” Patrick insisted. “When I did my evaluation of that unit, I was thinking like a BUFF or B-2 bomber guy—low, slow, and fly the blue line. I realized that once we got over Korea, Operation Battle Born won’t work if we fly that way. This mission calls for crews who can think and react like close-air-support attack planes, not bombers. They have to drive down the enemy’s
throat to do this mission. Those guys are the best because they fly like that all the time—they don’t know any other way.”

“Then you got ’em,” Samson said. “What else do you need? Tanker support, AWACS, fighter cover?”

“We need Takedown,” Patrick replied.

“You need who?”

“Takedown—that’s the Navy version of Coronet Tiger,” Patrick said. “Brad Elliott originally got Coronet Tiger from the Navy, and they still have patrol planes modified with the system—on P-3 Orions, I believe. We need that plane, plus its support teams. I also need the
Grand Island.
”

“You mean the USS
Grand Island?
The cruiser we almost fried testing Lancelot?”

“Yep,” Patrick said. “We need someone to watch our backsides and to provide some air defense support. Besides, they know a lot of our secrets anyway—might as well make them part of the team.”

“Well, that might be a tough sell, but I’ll do it,” Samson said with a smile. “What’s the plan?”

“I plan on flying missions or manning the VC with other crews flying the EB-1 until someone orders me to stop,” Patrick said. “I’ll send Dave back to base to supervise the retrofit of the four Bones at Dreamland, and I’ll send Nancy and Wendy out to Patuxent River to supervise the Takedown flight crew setup. In less than seventy-two hours, we’ll be fully operational here. I just hope this region doesn’t blow up in our faces before then.”

111TH BOMB SQUADRON HEADQUARTERS,
RENO-TAHOE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT,
RENO, NEVADA
THE NEXT DAY

T
he news about Korea was so nonstop and so shocking that, even after just a few days, it seemed as if it was already old news. Rebecca Furness was hardly paying attention to the TV tuned to CNN in her office as she took pictures, plaques, and other assorted memorabilia off the walls and stacked them neatly in boxes.

At first, it did appear as if the Korean people’s revolution was going to hold. Led by the United States, foreign troops started moving off the Korean peninsula within hours of the formal request. At several times, Russian, Chinese, and American transport and cargo vessels shared the same waters, packed full with troops, dependents, and equipment. In fact, it appeared as if all three nations had actually
increased
their naval presence in the region—given the opportunity to sail plenty of vessels into Korean waters, all nations did so with gusto. All of the ships operated near each other without protest or problems. It all led the world to believe that a peaceful transition to democracy was actually possible in Korea.

But then the missile attacks and the destruction of a major Korean city reportedly by a Chinese ballistic missile snapped the world back to reality. Tensions were high again in the blink of an eye. American military forces, already at a high state of alert, were placed on an even more advanced stage of readiness, as far advanced as possible without actually flying aircraft or sending ships to Korea or appearing as if they threatened China or Russia.

There was little talk from China—all of the bellicose
language coming from Asia was from the Korean Communist government-in-exile. President Kim Jong-il was on CNN almost hourly, loudly proclaiming that President Kwon of United Korea wanted nothing more than to precipitate a superpower conflict so Japan and Korea could emerge as leaders of a new Asian power bloc.

All the other noise on CNN came from President Kevin Martindale’s critics, who slammed him mercilessly. He was not tough enough with the Chinese or Koreans; he should never have relinquished the lost Korean or Japanese bases; he should send more troops or more aircraft carriers into Asia; and on it went for a dozen other perceived deficiencies. Half his critics wanted war with the Chinese—the other half wanted Martindale out of the White House and
then
war with China.

When the news came over CNN that China and Korea had exchanged missiles, Rebecca thought the world was going to end in the next thirty minutes—about the time it would take long-range sub-launched ICBMs to fly from Asia or Siberia to North America, or vice versa. She had never in her life felt so powerless. She stopped her packing and watched, mesmerized, as the reporters and anchors tried to keep on reporting developments in northeast Asia, even as they, too, knew that their planet could be on fire at any moment.

When the thirty minutes came and went, Rebecca felt enormous relief. Maybe cooler heads were going to prevail here. Maybe everything would be all right. But then President Kim or some Chinese government official would get on the air and promise death, and her panic would start all over again.

“You know,” she heard a familiar voice say, “this is a really shitty office.” She turned and saw Rinc Seaver standing in her doorway, watching her.

Rebecca looked around, then nodded. Her office was
a former storeroom on the top floor of the General James A. May hangar at Reno-Tahoe International Airport. It wasn’t the normal unit commander’s office, but she chose it and fixed it up because it overlooked the flight line and had better access to the maintenance teams downstairs, which were the lifeblood of any flying unit. “I’ve had bigger ones, nicer ones,” she said. “But it’s not the size that matters, it’s what you do with it.”

“Are we still talking about offices, Beck?” Rinc said with a smile.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe not.”

“I would certainly prefer to talk about us.”

She favored him with a smile in return, then motioned to the TV. “Have you been watching this? It’s incredible. One second I feel okay, and the next I think I can hear the nukes flying in.”

“I can’t watch it anymore,” Rinc said. “It’s driving me nuts, especially since I can’t do anything about it. Besides, I’m concerned about other things—other
persons.
” He stepped over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Hi, stranger,” he said.

“Hi yourself.”

She did not exactly return his kiss, and he could feel the tension in her body. His shoulders slumped as she turned away and began packing boxes again. “Either I’m losing my touch, or I’m losing
you
,” he said.

“I’m just distracted . . . pissed off . . . frustrated . . . take your pick,” Rebecca said. “I’m a full-time guardsman, Rinc. This was my job. I’ve never been fired from a job before in my life. And this was my first combat-coded command, something I’ve wanted since I started pilot training.”

“I know,” Rinc said. “What’s more, we lost our unit when we were doing our jobs better than anyone else. It sucks.”

Rebecca looked at Rinc. “You seem in a pretty good mood. Oh yeah, that’s right—you still have a job.”

“You can have one too, if you want,” Rinc said. “The company is thinking about putting another plane on the line. I talked to them about splitting hours. They provide decent benefits, we get the use of the planes at cost in case we set up some type of rating instruction, and we get to stay in town and . . .”

“I tried that once before—I found I didn’t like it,” Rebecca said. “I like military flying better. I like command even more.”

Rinc shrugged. “Why not accept the offer while you look around for another position?” he suggested. “We could use you, and we’d still be together.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so, which? The ‘we could use you’ part or the ‘we’d still be together’ part?”

“Rinc, sometimes you . . . dammit, sometimes
men
can be so frustrating,” Rebecca said. “I just lost my job. I’m hurt. You just lost your job. You don’t seem to care. I don’t see you for weeks after your accident. I’m hurt. You don’t see me for weeks after your accident, and it’s no big deal. Does it ever become a big deal for you?”

“Beck, we got tossed out of a job—we didn’t receive a death sentence, we didn’t get a red ‘A’ painted on our foreheads, we are still breathing,” Rinc said. “We can overcome everything else. Life goes on. We press on.”

“Well, I lost some things that were special to me,” Rebecca said. “My command, my career, my future.”

“But you can have that again. I’m offering you all of it. My bosses want you. I want you. The business is expanding, and there’s a future for you there if you want it.”

“Pushing another flying service? Forget it. I did that, back in New York. It wasn’t for me. I’ve worked hard to get my light colonel’s leaves and my own command,
Rinc—I can’t just leave it and go to work for someone else.” She reached out and held his hand. “The California Air National Guard tanker wing is looking for a commander down in Riverside. They want to interview me. I think I’ve got a really good shot at it. KC-135Rs, maybe KC-10s in the future. Lots of missions, high visibility, lots of money.”

“And what do I do? Fly Stratobladders? No thanks,” Rinc said. “I’ve put in my time in support squadrons. I’m part owner of a good business here in Reno, and I get a stick and throttles and windows in my planes, even the little piston-powered ones. Why would I give that up?”

“How about for me?” Rebecca asked, a little crossly. “Do it so we can stay together. Start a branch of your flying service down there. Fly for the airlines—you have lots of experience, a commercial license, an Airline Transport Pilot rating. Get a corporate position. Or just come down and be with me. You’re a young guy. You can do anything you want. I don’t have as many opportunities as you, Rinc. When I find a good one, I have to go for it.” She could tell that not only was he
not
considering the idea, he was decidedly uncomfortable even thinking about it. “Or does the idea of following a woman’s career totally gross you out?”

“It’s not that . . .”

“Bullshit. What is it, then? My age?”

“Hey, I’ve never thought of you as an ‘older woman,’” Rinc said angrily. “You know that. You’re as sexy and vibrant and hot as any college hard-body.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Rebecca asked. “C’mon, Rinc. Give it a try.”

“I don’t know,” Rinc said. Rebecca sensed that he was wrestling with an even greater dilemma than just their future together. “It’s just . . . well, I was getting a little tired of the Air Guard scene. I was looking forward
to settling down and taking it easy with this little flying service in Reno.”

“Well, don’t fly for the Guard,” she said. “Do other stuff.”

“But I’d be exposed to it all the time, being with you. I’m not sure if I want that.”

“Why, for Christ’s sake? You don’t have to have anything to do with the Guard, except maybe a few social-type functions. You can handle that. Besides, if you’re doing your corporate or airline thing, you’ll probably be on the road most of the time anyway.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be involved because
you’ll
be involved.”

“So? I still don’t get it.” She looked at him for several long moments; then: “What is it, Rodeo? Tell me.” He remained silent, his eyes darting back and forth as if reliving some horrible event in his life. Now she studied his face intently, reading the thoughts and emotions that seemed to cross it—and not liking what she was sensing. “It’s not that you don’t want to be around
me
, Rinc,” she said in a quiet, strained voice, “is it? You don’t want to be around the Air Guard. Why?” Still no response. “Rinc, you gotta tell me. It’s about the accident, right?”

“No.”

“Tell me, Rinc. Get it off your chest. It’s all history now, lover.”

“Forget about it. It’s nothing.”

“I can’t forget about it until you do,” Rebecca said. “It’s obvious that whatever is bugging you is standing between us. I need to know. Please.”

Rinc started to pace the office. Every step he took seemed to cause him immense pain, but Rebecca knew the true pain was in his soul. “You lost it that day, didn’t you, Rinc?”

Rinc’s eyes were fixed on the floor. “Yes,” he said in
a low, barely audible voice. “It was nuts on that plane, Beck. It wasn’t recovering. We were practically upside down. I thought I could recover it. Mad Dog had his fingers on the PREPARE TO EJECT switch, and I told him no. I kept on saying, ‘I got it, I got it.’ I suddenly realized I was going to fly it all the way into the ground, and I didn’t issue a command—I just went.”

“Rinc, it’s all right,” Rebecca said, going to him and taking his hand. “The important thing is, you got out alive . . .”

“Like hell it is
!” John Long shouted. He was standing in the doorway of Rebecca’s office, his eyes bulging in fury. “So you finally admit it—you
did
screw up!”

“John, get out,” Rebecca said. “This is between him and me.”

But Long had already sped into the office and he shoved Seaver back against Rebecca’s desk. Rinc made no attempt to resist. Long pinned him against the desk and started pummeling him with his right fist. “You bastard!” he shouted. “You cowardly bastard! You caused that accident! You caused that crash! You killed those men!
My friends are dead because of you
!”

Furness had no choice—she jabbed her right elbow back into Long’s face, then pushed him away. He flew backward, blood spurting from his nose.

“So that’s why you’ve been protecting him—you two have been screwing each other all this time,” Long said, holding his nose to try to stop the bleeding. “God damn you . . .”

“That’s enough, Colonel!”

“I’m not your subordinate anymore, bitch!” Long snapped. “And even if I was, I call ’em like I see ’em. You covered up for him even though you suspected something was wrong. How can you do that, Furness? How can you cover up for a piece of shit like that, over
the rest of your unit? There’s no dick or piece of ass good enough for anyone to turn on their own!”