Chapter 34
Feeling a heightened sense of anxiety, Scott leveled the plane at eight hundred feet and adjusted the power to maintain a speed of 140 knots. Passing the bow of the carrier off to the left, the Learjet felt comfortable. Dalton was prepared to commence his approach.
"Here we go," he said, beginning a shallow, descending left turn abreast of the ship's island. "This looks good."
Because of the gust factor, Scott had to keep varying his bank angle while in the descent.
"You're lookin' good," CAG Paddles said when the Learjet was halfway through the 180-degree turn to final. "Slightly high, ease it down, ease it down a little — take your time."
Scott barely inched the power back to make the correction. "Kilo Hotel," Jackie acknowledged, glancing at the stormy seas.
She shifted her gaze to the pitching deck of the carrier. "This does not give me a warm, comfortable feeling."
"Yeah, there are other things I'd rather be doing," Scott said, keeping his focus aimed at the carrier deck. "But you have to admit it's exciting."
"So is jumping into an alligator pit."
Rolling wings level on short final, Scott picked up the bright yellow-orange meatball in the middle of the Fresnel optical landing system. The ball provided a visual glide-slope to the pilot on final approach.
"Okay," Scott said, "Learjet, ball, state three hundred pounds."
"Learjet, ball, three hundred pounds," Jackie radioed to the LSO while Scott was maintaining 140 knots.
"Roger ball," CAG Paddles said, shooting a look at the flight deck and deck-status light. It was red, indicating the barricade wasn't ready. He waited until the last second, hoping that he could bring the Learjet aboard on this pass.
"Kilo Hotel," the LSO said with clear irritation in his voice, "do a three-sixty to port — the barricade isn't rigged yet."
Scott swore to himself, added power, and rolled into a 360-degree turn to the left. "Great — just perfect."
Jackie acknowledged the instructions and saw the airspeed indicator fall slightly below 140. "Watch your speed."
"Got it," Scott said, easing the left throttle forward.
Her heart was clutched by a grip of ice and her blood chilled. "I don't like this — we're running out of fuel."
Very gently, Scott juggled the power and tried to be patient. "Come on, people, get it together."
The rig master was personally changing the barricade pendant when he caught a glimpse of the civilian plane turning toward the carrier. He worked feverishly, but time was against him.
Rolling out on final, Scott maintained his altitude until he was in close and had a centered ball.
"Learjet, ball, two hundred fifty pounds," Jackie reported. Scott began a descent to keep the ball centered.
"Roger ball — you're right on," Paddles said in a soothing voice. "It looks like you do this every day."
Scott knew the LSO was nursing him, but it helped him concentrate on his flying technique. Nearing the flight deck on his second pass, Dalton was trying to keep the ball in the center and maintain lineup in the gusty winds. They were only a few seconds from being on the flight deck.
"Wave off, foul deck," CAG Paddles grumbled, initiating the bright red wave-off lights. "We're going to make this happen, I promise."
"Damn," Scott said to himself. "Do you believe this?"
Jackie was silent, her heart pounding against her chest.
Dalton slowly added power, lowered the left wing a few degrees, and fed in rudder to counter the airplane's tendency to yaw. The struggling Learjet barely cleared the barricade as it was being raised.
"Turn downwind," Paddles said, watching the deck-crew and air-wing personnel clear the landing area. The men ran toward the safety area behind the starboard foul-deck line.
"Kilo Hotel, you have a clear deck and the barricade is in position — bring it aboard."
Jackie acknowledged the transmission while Scott smoothly banked the Learjet into a tight left turn. He focused on what he knew would be their last pass. "Well, Jackie, think about the bright side of this situation."
She gave him a suspicious look. "And what would that be?"
"If we go into the drink, at least we won't hit any orphanages or retirement homes."
Jackie was suffering from a severe case of dry mouth. "Graveyard humor, that's exactly what I need right now."
Scott rolled into the groove near the back of the pitching and rolling ship and immediately tried to spot the deck — eyeing the flight deck instead of flying the ball — something an LSO doesn't like to see.
"A little power," CAG Paddles coached. The deck bottomed out of a trough and began moving upward. "Power… power."
Dalton was making the adjustment when the left engine began spinning down. "Uh-oh, brace yourself!"
"Power!" the LSO radioed in an effort to salvage the landing. "Power, power, POWER!"
Total silence followed. Scott lowered the Learjet's nose in a desperate attempt to maintain airspeed. The plane-cum-glider was now descending like a manhole cover. Scott knew he would soon be out of airspeed, altitude, and ideas — but he was on centerline and had plenty of forward motion. "This is gonna be ugly!"
Just before he crossed the round down, Dalton heard the famous words that were now meaningless.
"Cut, cut, cut," CAG Paddles yelled over the radio. The deck heaved upward to meet the Learjet.
Reflexively, Scott pulled the useless power lever to idle and planted the Learjet in a bone jarring arrival. The crash landing snapped the nose gear off and drove both main landing gears up through the wings.
The airplane sailed up the flight deck and viciously slammed into the barricade, which brought the heavily damaged Learjet to a quick and safe halt.
Jackie and Scott had been hanging in their shoulder straps from the tremendous G-forces during the rapid deceleration.
The crash crew raced toward the airplane, but there was no fire — the fuel tanks were almost bone dry. The crew could not believe the right engine was missing.
Thankful that they were on deck safely, Scott heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, folks, that was one of my better landings, and we look forward to serving you in the future."
"At least we're in one piece," Jackie said, unbuckling her seat belt and shoulder straps. "Under the circumstances, I give you an A-plus."
Chapter 35
The flying command post was on the first leg of a round-robin course when the five-minute warning arrived.
President Macklin was on a conference hookup with General Bancroft at NORAD and General Chalmers at the Pentagon. Everyone at the top of the chain of command, both civilian and military, was in agreement. United States forces would counterattack with overwhelming nuclear force if NORAD detected and authenticated a missile launch from China.
Gathered around a long conference table, the president and his men watched the minutes tick away as General Bancroft gave them updates and silently prayed.
With one minute to go, the president rose from his chair. "Well, gentlemen, this is the time when we have to believe in—"
The secretary of state's phone rang, shattering the silence. Brett Shannon snatched it off the cradle, listened intently, and looked at Macklin. "Liu Fan-ding has had a stroke."
"Who's in charge?" the president asked. "What are their intentions — has the deadline been called off?"
Shannon repeated the questions to the caller while the last few seconds to deadline were ticking away.
"Say again," Shannon said in frustration. "Has the deadline been canceled — where do we stand on the deadline?"
"Mr. President," General Chalmers said, "we're about out of time."
Macklin tightly gripped the handset. "Hold on, Les — let's sort through this new information."