EndWar

But first she had to find Boyd, see if he made it, and if he did, be sure those bastards weren’t trying to finish the job.

His beacon shone in one of her displays, as the choppers below scattered like bees being swatted, spreading out, gaining altitude, while a few pilots descended even lower.

Two of the choppers banked hard, coming around to engage her as she hovered above them.

Rockets flashed from their underwing pods. She rolled to her left, even as she engaged her four-barreled GAU-22/A gun mounted in a teardrop pod along the jet’s aft center pylon, the four barrels bound in one spinning cylinder.

Armor-piercing discarding sabot with tracer rounds leapt out ahead of her fighter at a rate of forty-two hundred per minute, chewing into the first chopper’s canopy amid a flurry of sparks and the laser-like streaks drawn by the tracers.

She shifted fire to the next helo, more rounds drumming along its side as the pilot attempted to evade.

The first chopper began to fall away, out of control, smoke pouring from the shattered cockpit. And suddenly, the second one joined the first, rolling away, trailing more smoke.

She carried only two hundred and twenty rounds of ammo for the gun despite its cyclic rate of fire, and she had already blown through half. Damn it. The cost of being trigger-happy.

There were two more Sidewinders in her internal bays, along with two AGM-154 Joint Standoff Weapons for hitting hardened surface targets. She also had a pair of five-hundred-pound JDAM bombs under the wings, but they wouldn’t help unless those helos put down. Finally, she had a pair of laser-guided training rounds they were supposed to use in a couple of days.

Boyd’s fighter had crashed just ahead, the flames still soaring skyward; he had drifted downwind about a half kilometer farther south.

“Ghost Hawk, this is Siren, you copy, over?”

No response.

“Igloo Base, this is Siren. No contact from Ghost Hawk on the ground. Four choppers engaged and destroyed, over.”

“Roger that, Siren. You’re ordered to return to base, over.”

“Negative, Igloo Base. I’m not leaving until I can confirm if Ghost Hawk made it or not, over.”

“Stand by, Siren…”

Well, she’d stand by, all right, but not without unleashing her last two Sidewinders.

The helos, now much more spread apart, maintained their southerly course, a speckled field of potential targets glowing on her display.

“Here you go,” she whispered. “Eat this.”

Dinner was, in fact, served, a late-night course of explosives delivered with blinding efficiency.

The bay doors swung open, and the rockets spat from the warplane’s belly, arrowing through the night.

She throttled up once more, dove, and came in for a final run with guns—

Even as the two Sidewinders slammed into their targets, sending debris and flaming bodies hurtling outward in all directions.

Not liking her current angle, she drove the stick left, banking hard, the fighter riding the cold air as though racing on rails. She came back around, diving once more, and squeezed the trigger, targeting another chopper from behind until its engine flared and died.

Then she ceased fire, lined up on the next bird and squeezed the trigger, more rounds streaking away.

But in a few seconds, the gun went dead, out of ammo, and the chopper was still flying.

“JSF fighter plane, this is American Eagle, over.”

Halverson gasped. She knew that call sign but could hardly believe it. The President of the United States was on the radio.

“American Eagle, this is Siren, go ahead, over.”

“Major, what am I looking at here?”

“Sir, those blips on the screen are approximately thirty to thirty-five Russian Ka-29 troop transport helos on a southerly heading. I’ve taken out seven of them, damaged an eighth, but I’ve exhausted my ammo. They fired upon us first, sir. I lost my wingman, who ejected, and I want to fly over the crash site and see if he made it.”

“Can you do that without losing your bird?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you’ve got my permission. Major, you’re looking at them. What do you think they’re up to?”

“Sir, I honestly have no idea. But I’d recommend calling the Canadians to get some people up here ASAP.”

“Roger that, Major. Good work. I hope your wingman made it.”

“Thank you, sir, Siren out.”

She shuddered as she realized she had just had a conversation with the president! Damn, whatever was happening had to be huge.

With a hard blink, she brought herself back to the moment. The enemy helos passed over the crash site and continued on as she descended behind them, homing in on Boyd’s beacon.

She slowed as she got on top of the signal, spotted one chute, tangled and whipping in the breeze, still attached to the ejection seat. She wheeled around once more and slowed to a complete hover, keeping a wary eye on the radar while searching for Boyd and his chute.

“Ghost Hawk, this is Siren, over.”

Come on, Jake. Be there…

FOURTEEN