CHAPTER 1
The massive blood-red disc of the sun sank into the ocean just ahead of the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln. The sky seemed to catch fire and burn as the sun set along the horizon; it appeared almost close enough to touch.
The tremendous nuclear-powered navy vessel was an impressive sight as it powered its way through the darkening waves deep in the middle of the Pacific. As the sun continued setting, the ship’s formidable form was silhouetted against the blazing sky. On the flight deck, navy personnel wearing large white earmuffs scrambled. A pilot was manoeuvring a fighter aircraft on the thick steel surface, setting it into the football-field-length, steam-powered catapult that would hurl the jet off the carrier’s short runway.
The fading light radiated off the silver skin of the supersonic fighter jet, an F/A-18E Super Hornet. Inside, First Lieutenant Troy “Showtime” Jenkins began the normal course of checking his instruments and ensuring his rudder and ventral flaps were operational. Everything seemed good to go.
Behind the plane, the crew lifted the wide jet blast deflector. As soon as he saw it was safe, Lieutenant Jenkins turned on the powerful jet engine. The roar was incredible as it fired to life. Steam rose off the flight deck as the crew made last-second preparations for lift-off.
The voice in his radio crackled: “Raider one-one-two, this is Giant Killer. You are cleared for take-off. Ready when you are, Showtime.”
“Roger, Giant Killer, this is Raider one-one-two. Looks like a beautiful night for a Sunday drive,” Troy said, looking out on the sunset. The jet engine whined as it reached full power, ready to thrust at the right moment.
Giving a thumbs-up to the catapult operators on the flight deck, the lieutenant used one hand to clutch the handle in front of him. His hands ached with the tight grip. He said a quick prayer.
The steam catapult activated like an enormous gun. The pressure was unbelievable as it slung the fighter jet forward at one hundred and sixty-five miles per hour.
One moment, the F-18 was sitting on the flight deck. The next, Lieutenant Jenkins and the jet were flying one hundred and sixty-five miles per hour above the dark, cresting waves of the Pacific. Just clocking in for another boring day at work, Lieutenant Jenkins thought to himself with a smile as the fighter screamed along the ocean.
“Giant Killer, I am outbound at one-one-four SE, ascending to one-zero ten thousand feet. Clear skies as far as I can see, over.”
“Copy Raider one-one-two, that’s affirmative. Proceed to one-zero ten thousand.”
Pulling back the centre stick, the pilot began making his climb towards the clouds. Suddenly a strange blip appeared on his green heads-up display screen in front of him. Something very low. And then, just as suddenly, it disappeared.
“Giant Killer, did you just see that on radar?” Lieutenant Jenkins asked.
“Affirmative, we are checking if there are any bogies in the area.”
The pilot’s concentrated gaze focused on the screen. Nothing. For a moment there was a small blip again. But then it vanished.
“Showtime, we’re showing no activity in this area, and the bogey has disappeared. Probably just a fluke. Proceed to one-zero ten thousand feet, over.”
Lieutenant Jenkins looked out over the endless horizon, where whatever he saw on the radar had been.
“Negative, Giant Killer,” the pilot said. “I’m going in for visual.”
Tilting the stick forward and to the left, he steered the jet closer to the ocean again, screaming towards the setting sun. The exhaust on the back of the fighter jet burned the same fiery orange as the horizon.
“Showtime, proceed with your original flight plan. Raider one-one-two, do you copy?”
“Roger, getting visual on unidentified bogey.” Lieutenant Jenkins smiled – what were they going to do, fire him? He was one of the only guys around who knew how to do this. Well, do it this well, at least.
The lieutenant tried not to listen to the series of curses from the control tower coming over his radio.
Within moments he was nearing the position of the unidentified object on the radar. But he still didn’t have visual contact. He craned his neck around, looking through the glass as the fleeting light darkened the sky. He saw nothing, not a trace.
“Where are you? Where’d you go?” Jenkins asked the unknown object.
Dropping down even further, the nimble jet roared to just barely above the rolling, deep Pacific waves. The lieutenant scanned all around. Still, he saw nothing.
Suddenly, his radar beeped. It was right in front of him. But he couldn’t see it.