Captain Browne stood behind the TAO who looked over his shoulder for guidance. How were they to handle this contact coming at them at only 200 feet, well below a safe altitude for innocent passage and, in the current situation, a hostile flight profile?
Browne studied the screen. He had seconds to make a decision. Shoot down this bogey? Or risk the ship?
“Thump them,” he said.
“Sir?” the watch officer asked, puzzled.
“Have the damn Rhino’s thump them, weapons safe, but scare them off. Tell them to thump him. They’ll know what you mean. Now. Keep warning the unidentified aircraft that they are standing into danger.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the watch officer responded and relayed the message to both aircraft, using a tactical frequency for the Hobos and the emergency GUARD frequency for the Cessna.
In the cockpit of the lead Super Hornet, Hobo 203, the pilot was as low as he dared in a tight turn to affect the rendezvous. When he got the word to thump the contact, he pulled hard to an intercept heading and lit the cans. He then leveled at fifty feet over the waves which whizzed underneath him like white lines on an interstate highway. His wingman swung around hard to line up at the Citation’s six o’clock and make his own run. Recording his HUD and FLIR video the entire time, the lead bore in from the right side of the business jet, looking up at the white-painted Cessna to assess closure and range. The intruder continued straight ahead as the lead Rhino flew his aircraft to a position in front of its nose and pulled straight up in front of it, overbanking left to watch the result. The Citation seemed to veer left, then continue straight.
Hobo 207 was now a mile behind the bogey, unseen, and coming at it supersonic. The lead Hobo watched his wingman’s shock wave bounce off the surface of the water as it sprinted to catch its prey. Once it got to the Citation, the Rhino pulled hard up and to the left, within a wingspan of the unknown jet. Jolted by another unexpected fighter, the message sunk in. The Cessna now turned away from the ship, which it could see on the horizon, and headed back toward Puerto Rico.
With the speed brake extended, the lead Hobo joined on the Cessna’s right wing and his wingman soon joined on the left as the Citation headed away from Mother. The Hobo pilots watched the pilots of the jet and could sense that they were nervous. Behind the pilots, through the passenger windows, they saw people with big TV cameras. Soon, one person held up a flag against a window. The lead eased closer, accepting wingtip overlap, to get a better look. Within seconds, the lead identified the flag as a logo of a U.S. network news outlet.
Once this was transmitted to the ship, the lead Hobo received instructions. At one hundred miles from Mother, with the Puerto Rican coast in sight, the Super Hornet pilot pointed his finger at the Citation co-pilot, then pointed to Puerto Rico, and brushed his hand as if to sweep them away. In unison, both Rhinos pulled up and away from the media snoopers, watching the white jet over their shoulders as they climbed behind it. They orbited high off the coast for a time, keeping watch through the clouds below until summoned home by a relieved Tactical Action Officer.
CHAPTER 40
Macho entered her stateroom and noticed right away that Shane’s rack was stripped of linen. Her fold-down desk was up, and Macho lowered it. Empty. She opened one of Shane’s metal drawers. Empty. A ship-supplied bath towel was left hanging on a hook, but Shane’s robe was gone, her closet empty. Macho opened the medicine cabinet over the sink. All of her roommate’s items were gone.
Macho wondered what had happened. Why was Shane gone? Was she still on the ship? Sudden illness or loss of a loved one? She hoped Shane was okay and called the ready room.
“Ready Five, Lieutenant Rutledge, sir or ma’am.”
“Ghost, Macho. Is Shane down there?”
“Nope, haven’t seen Wonder Woman in a while. What’s up?”
“Is she still on the ship?”
“Should be. Let me ask the OPSO.”
Macho heard him ask the Operations Officer, Lieutenant Commander “Stretch” Armstrong, if Shane was still aboard.
“Yeah, OPSO says, as far as he knows, she’s still aboard. Do you think she’s not?”
“She’s my roommate, but all her stuff is gone.”
When Ghost didn’t respond, Macho added, “I’m going to CVIC to check.”
“Okay, let me know,” Ghost replied and hung up.
Macho closed the stateroom door behind her and headed to CVIC. Could she have fallen overboard? No, why clean out everything in the room? Suicide? No, she is the happiest person I know. It puzzled Macho that all Shane’s stuff was missing and she had moved out with no warning. She hoped Shane was in CVIC.
Macho arrived and was buzzed in. She stepped into the main planning room and saw Shane seated at a table studying a chart. A wave of relief flooded over her.
“Shane, are you okay?”
Shane didn’t lift her head. “Yes, fine.”
Macho noted the cold shoulder. “Your stuff is gone. Did you move out?”
“Yes,” Shane answered as she stood and walked toward the chart locker.
Macho followed, her face contorted in confusion.
“Why?”
Shane kept her head down and didn’t answer. They were now alone, out of earshot.
“Shane… why?”
Shane snapped her head to make eye contact. “Because, I don’t want to live with someone I can’t trust.”
Stunned, Macho reeled from the verbal blow.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I told you about my boyfriend’s pictures. You told Trench and Coach, and now those pictures are all over the ship. Every guy on board has seen me naked and my tattoo. I’ve asked for a transfer, but until I leave, I still have to work here — with everyone looking at me and judging me.”
“I did not—”
“Yes, you did. I told you only, and I begged you not to tell. I thought I could trust a girl.”
“Shane, I did not tell anyone!”
“Then how are the photos all over the ship? Skipper and XO called me in to tell me. That’s how I found out!”
“These perverts are capable of finding things on their own—”
“We don’t have Web access out here. They had help, and they were tipped off. This didn’t happen until I opened up to you, my roommate, my squadronmate, my “fellow officer” of honor and integrity.”
“It’s not a bad picture. You can’t see anything—”
Shane exploded in fury. “I don’t care if it’s a portrait picture of me with my hair colored blonde! I came here — to a ship! — to escape my shame, to be an Intelligence Officer with a professional image. Free of blackmail! And now that’s gone, so I’m leaving.”
“When?”
“As soon as the XO lets me.”
“I’m going to find out who did this and kill them!”
“Tiffany, it’s you! Yes, guys are guys, but I opened up to you, shared with you, my new soul-sister. And you spread it. And I’m the one who has to leave.”