“OK, so how do we know your, what’s dat jet again, Black Scorpion? How do we know Black Scorpion will even be airborne tomorrow night?”
“Sir, the team back in DC has ways of monitoring that. These guys have all sorts of capabilities that I don’t even understand. I trust them completely, so if they tell me she’s airborne, the jet is airborne.”
Zeke agreed and looked at Smitty, then up at the flat panel on the wall in his office. “Ford, we’re on board with yer plan and can take you there for sure. You see up there on da flight schedule, we have a primary jet and a backup if we go down in the chocks? We’ll be all right. Get some rest over at da quarters, and we’ll pre-brief tomorrow at 1600 for an 1800 takeoff. Questions?”
Ford shook his head no, as he was barely listening now, admitting to himself that he was thinking about Emily more than normal. The engagement ring he secretly bought back in Vegas, without Emily knowing, was burning a hole in his flight-suit pocket. Ford checked his chest pocket so often that he thought the box would leave a mark on his flight suit.
“Hey, Stevens. What happens if your laptop doesn’t work?” asked Smitty, with a deadpan tone.
Dai and Chung ensured all their external lights were off, including their infrared lights, known as IR. IRs were invisible to the naked human eye because their wavelength was just greater than the red end of the visible light spectrum, but less than microwaves. IRs had a wavelength of about 800 nm to 1 mm, and unless someone on the island was using an infrared camera, goggles, or binoculars, the flyover would be fast and invisible.
“Autopilot off,” Dai announced as he took manual control of the jet and placed his hands on the stick and throttle. “Put the altitude bug on fifty feet. We’re going low.”
“Roger, fifty feet,” Chung acknowledged. Wow, we are going to be really low, Chung thought.
“I’m looking for 750 knots at about a hundred feet. I want the sonic boom right over the island. We’ll come across the island from north to south, then again east to west, and depart the area to the west for Sanya,” Dai told him.
The radar controllers were told by senior officers of the PLAAF to keep their eyes open. The radar dishes were sweeping the sea surface, as well as the airspace, and nothing was being painted with radar energy.
Out the windshield, both pilots looked out at the black ocean and only saw the reflection of the stars off the dark sea. The faint lights of the island were coming into view low on their canopy and fast.
“Got you at 575 knots at two hundred feet. Airspace clear. No other aircraft in the vicinity,” Chung shared.
From the left seat, Dai pushed his right hand on the four throttles a bit further to get just a few knots of airspeed, while adjusting the nose slightly with his left hand. The airspeed jolt was felt for just a few knots, but the airspeed indicator climbed rapidly.
“Over the island in five seconds, four seconds, three, two, feet dry. Now. Go ahead, punch it,” Chung announced.
BOOOOOOMMMM!
The sound wave cracked from the Black Scorpion and penetrated every building and rolled across the surface of all the islands in the area rapidly. Breaking the speed of sound at that altitude scared the heck out of everyone there, especially the controllers who knew something might be coming. With no mountains or land to absorb the energy, it was quite a jolt. Multiple windows were broken on buildings, and a few car alarms on government sedans were set off.
“That was fun, Dai. You’re clear for the turn,” said Chung, as Dai turned left out over the water for a few miles.
He came at the island again after a long and large turn, this time from east to west. As they looked down below, all sorts of people were outside now, looking around and up in the sky. They had no idea what was going on.
VVVVRRRRRWWHHOOOSSHHHHHHHHH! The intense sound of the Black Scorpion going over was felt inside everyone’s internal organs. As fast as they came in was as fast as they left.
“Chung, you have the controls. Take us to Sanya. I’ll mark the kneeboard card. Success,” Dai said, recording the air temps, altitude, and simulated attacks on the island for the debrief upon landing.
Inside the radar controller building, it was complete pandemonium. “What do you have on the radar?” asked the PLAAF radar supervisor, a major. His glass monitor had a huge crack in it now.
“Major, nothing. There is nothing on the screen. Whatever that was, we did not see it,” answered the young lieutenant. He ran his hand down the glass screen.
“What the fuck was that on the surface?” asked Commander Reginald Mack, commanding officer of the USS Buffalo. “Battlestations torpedo!”
The loud sound and vibration of something on the surface traveled through the water. The officer of the deck and others were scrambling, as the dim lighting inside the submarine flashed in various shades of red. They were in shallow water, and the sound wave pierced their hull as if there was an explosion on the surface near their vessel. Anyone in their racks sleeping was out now and awake, life vests and helmets on, and the sailors were moving with a purpose.
“Officer of the deck, what do you have? Sonar contacts?” asked the commander.
“Negative, sir. Zero targets tracking. Alone out here.”
“Officer of the conn, anything?”
“Negative, sir.”
Commander Mack thought for a moment. “Midnight Cowboy, I’m thinking of surfacing. Shit, we’re nearly on top of the water right now. I need to see what’s going on up there. I mean, what makes a sound like that? What do you think?”
“Surface, sir,” replied the Midnight Cowboy. It was an affectionate term from the captain of the ship for his most trusted young, junior officer standing watch. It also came with a lot of additional responsibility. “Go, sir. Unusual sound for sure.”
The USS Buffalo, hull number SSN 715 with a crew of 150 sailors, was known as one of the fastest and stealthiest submarines in the Indo-Pacific Fleet. Buffalo routinely conducted forward-deployed operations for extended periods of time out of Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and was forward leaning for a variety of undersea missions. From Singapore to Hawaii and more, she and her crew ensured America’s right of entry to maritime trade routes and delivered credible defense against unfriendly maritime forces.
The US Navy had three classes of nuclear-powered submarines in their fleet. Buffalo, a Los Angeles — class submarine on her last voyage before retiring to the scrapyard, was known and favored by the sailors, along with thirty-nine same-class sister vessels sailing the world’s oceans. Thirty of them were equipped with twelve Vertical Launch System tubes for firing Tomahawk cruise missiles.
“Concur. Hold your horses. Hang on a sec. Sonar, what’s SOSUS picking up? How about Echo Voyager?” asked Commander Mack.
SOSUS, the navy’s sound surveillance system of underwater listening posts, was the same system Jeanie checked earlier, this time with results. Echo Voyager was a fifty-one-foot hybrid diesel submarine that was an autonomous robot. It had the ability to raise a mast, turn on the generator, recharge the battery, or submerge to eleven thousand feet, all without a manned crew.
“Jammed with noise, sir. Charts are showing a low-altitude multiengine aircraft breaking the sound barrier, but… this is much louder than anything we’ve seen. More than one jet engine… and the computer does not recognize her signature,” replied the sonar operator.