The Doomsday Conspiracy   ::   Sheldon Sidney

The sky directly ahead of them looked like the Fourth of July, streaked with white smoke from the light guns below, dark grey bursts from the fifty-five-millimetre shells, black clouds from the hundred-millimetre shells, and coloured tracer bullets from heavy machine-gun fire.

“We’re approaching target,” Edward said. His voice through the headphones sounded eerily faraway.

“Roger.”

The A-6A Intruder was flying at 450 knots, and at that speed, even with the drag and weight of the bomb load, it handled remarkably well, moving too fast for enemies to track it.

Robert reached out and turned on the master armament switch. The dozen 500-pound bombs were now ready to be released. He was headed straight for the target.

A voice on his radio said, “Romeo … you have a bogey at four o’clock high.”

Robert turned to look. A MiG was hurtling toward him, coming out of the sun. Robert banked and sent the plane into a steep dive. The MiG was on his tail. It loosed a missile. Robert checked his instrument panel. The missile was closing in rapidly. A thousand feet away … Six hundred … Four hundred …

“Holy shit!” Edward yelled. “What are we waiting for?”

Robert waited until the last second, then released a stream of metal chaff, and went into a steep climbing turn, leaving the missile to follow the chaff and crash harmlessly into the ground below.

“Thank you, God,” Edward said. “And you, pal.”

Robert continued the climb and swung behind the MiG. The pilot started to take evasive action, but it was too late. Robert loosed a Sidewinder missile and watched it crawl up the tail pipe of the MiG and explode. An instant later the sky was showered with pieces of metal.

A voice came over the intercom. “Nice work, Romeo.”

The plane was over the target now. “Here we go,” Edward said. He pressed the red button that released the bombs and watched them tumble down toward their target. Mission accomplished. Robert headed the plane back toward the carrier.

At that instant, they felt a heavy thud. The swift and graceful bomber suddenly became sluggish.

“We’ve been hit!” Edward called.

Both fire warning lights were flashing red. The plane was moving erratically, out of control.

A voice came over the radio. “Romeo, this is Tiger. Do you want us to cover you?”

Robert made a split-second decision. “No, go on to your targets. I’m going to try to make it back to base.”

The plane had slowed down, and was becoming more difficult to handle.