Deverill shouted, “Vertical jinks!” But it was too late. Dewey and Deverill heard what sounded like a rapid, heavy drumming on the left wing, followed by a heavy vibration emanating from the left wing and tail. The MASTER CAUTION light and several yellow warning lights illuminated on both sides. “Fuel malfunction … configuration warning … flight control warning,” Deverill said. “Looks like they shot the hell out of our left wing and tail section—” At that moment, the first red light on the warning panel illuminated. “Oh, crap, number-one hydraulic hot warning light.”
“Annie, this is Dave,” a disembodied voice announced. It was Colonel David Luger, seated in the “virtual cockpit” of the EB-1C Vampire bomber back at Elliott Air Force Base, which allowed several crew members and support personnel to remotely monitor the aircraft during its mission. “Annie, I’m going to shut down your number-one primary and secondary hydraulic systems before they seize and put the entire system into isolate mode. I’ve also sent a test signal to your left flap and slat actuators, spoiler group, and adaptive wing actuators, and there’s no response, so it looks like you lost all your left-side-wing flight controls. The rudder actuator seems okay, so you still have limited turn control via the rudder. Copy all?”
“We copy,” Annie said. “We’ve got a pretty good vibration coming from the left side.”
“Could be a shot-up wingtip, spoiler, flap, or malfunctioning adaptive wing actuators,” Luger said. “In any case, don’t touch the flap or wing sweep controls or you’ll put your hydraulic system into isolate mode and end up wrapping yourself up in a ball.”
“Roger.”
“Captain Dewey,” General Samson cut in, “I want you out of there right now. That’s an order. Return to the due regard point. We’ll coordinate a tanker rendezvous.”
“I’m not leaving the MV-22 now that I’m in contact,” Annie said. “He’s on my wing, and he’s going to stay there. If you want me to leave, get another plane up here to lead this guy. Otherwise he won’t be able to keep himself upright.”
There was a long pause, then: “Help is on the way right now,” Samson said in a tunnel-deep monotone that signaled how angry he was. “An MC-130P is en route to top off the MV-22 and lead him home. Stay with him until the P arrives.”
“Thanks, boss,” Annie said. There was no reply. She knew she was going to catch hell for disregarding his orders. “He sounded pissed,” she said to Duane.
“You did real good, Heels,” Deverill said. He reached over and patted her shoulder, then gave it a friendly rub. “Let the big guy be pissed — that’s his job. I’m your MC, and I think you did all right.” His touch was electric — it sent a current of warmth through her body. She dared take an eye off the MV-22 to glance at him, and he smiled at her across the dark cockpit.
An hour later, over the Sredneruskaja plains of southwestern Russia near the Ukraine border, the MC-130P special operations aerial refueling aircraft finally rendezvoused with the pair. Visibility had increased to just under a mile as the storm front began to move through the region, so there was little trouble during the rejoin. Just before the MC-130P got into visual range, Annie backed the EB-1C Vampire bomber away, out of visual range, while keeping a close watch on the damaged Pave Hammer aircraft. The stricken MV-22 made visual contact with the MC-130P less than a minute after the Vampire bomber moved away, and another minute later it was happily sipping fuel from the MC-130P’s hose and drogue refueling system, using position lights on the MC-130P’s wings and fuselage to stay straight and level.
“Thanks, you guys,” Hal Briggs radioed. “A big thank-you from Trash Man and his guys, too. You saved the day. You guys going to be okay?”
“We’ll find out right now, Hal.” Annie started to push the throttles forward to get some better controllability, but the faster she flew, the worse the vibrations got. She could manage only another fifty knots without threatening to tear the EB-1C apart. “Crap. We’ll be up here all night,” she cursed.
“If we’re lucky,” Duane said.
For the third time, Annie had to reapply the autopilot after it kicked itself off-line. “Autopilot can’t hold it anymore.”
“I think the vibration is getting worse. I’ve noticed you keep on pulling back on the power. We’re down to two hundred and twenty knots now. I think we got major structural problems happening.”
“I know, I know,” Annie said. She paused, trying to think of options, but she was fast running out of them. Annie felt a loud, swift roaring in her ears as she realized she might have only one option left. “I want you in your cold-weather survival gear. Now.”
“You go first,” Deverill said, his voice remarkably calm. “I can hold it.”
“I said, get in your cold-weather gear and check your survival kit is secure. Now.” She watched with half-angry, half-sorrowful eyes as Deverill nodded, then safetied his ejection seat and began to unstrap. Annie spoke: “Genesis, this is Terminator.”
“Go ahead, Annie,” General Samson responded.
“The vibration is getting worse,” she reported. “I think we might be getting ready to lose part of our left wing. I’ve ordered Dev into his cold-weather survival gear.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Affirmative. Sorry, sir. I think I’m about to break one of your planes.”
“Hey, it’s your plane, Captain — you signed for it,” Samson quipped, his voice still eerily deep and dark. “The Ukrainian border is just sixty miles ahead. Jump out as close to the border as you can. See any populated areas at all?”
“I can’t see squat outside,” Annie said. “I’ve been in the soup since forever. Visual display to cultural.” The voice command switched her electronic visor to display cultural features such as cities, towns, roads, and bridges. Just a handful of small cities were close by; the largest, Kursk, a town of fifteen thousand citizens, was right off their right wing. The eastern Ukrainian provincial capital of Char’kov was seventy miles straight ahead.
“We’ve alerted the Ukrainian Army and Border Patrols in eastern Ukraine, and they’re mobilizing search-and-rescue forces,” Samson said. “The Ukrainian Third Army headquarters is in Char’kov, and they have a regional airport that we can secure if you can make it there. But the Russians have a major Troops of Air Defense base at Belgorod at your eleven o’clock, forty miles. The U.S. Special Operations Command detachment at Batman Air Base has been alerted, and they’ll forward-deploy to Ukraine to help out in case you drop into Russia.”
Annie could see the computerized depiction of the Russia-Ukraine border region. The Ukrainian city of Char’kov was beyond the horizon with an electronic arrow pointing to it, and she aimed right for it. “I’m going direct to Char’kov at this time,” she said. “If things get too rough, or if we get any company, I’ll deviate further east around Belgorod.” She paused, then added, “Sorry I screwed things up, General.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that the MV-22 and the MC-130P are doing okay,” Samson said. “The MV-22 is still upright. They’ve refueled and they’re on their way through Ukrainian airspace. They’re reporting breaks in the weather farther west, so they’re going to divert to Kiev. The crew sends their thanks. You saved all of them. Feel any better?”
“I’ll let you know when I’m back home sipping a cold one, sir,” Annie said.
Suddenly, an electronic warning tone went off. Annie looked up. In her electronic visor, she saw a bat-wing symbol of an enemy aircraft. “Enemy aircraft, five o’clock, thirty miles, heading south,” she announced.