Free Imminent Threat by William Robert Stanek Page A

couldn’t hear the tapping of his fingers, I could see it. He was impatiently waiting and maintaining a hawkish watch on the system stats that I’d never before seen. In the reddish haze of the cabin’s interior I couldn’t see much farther, but I did see Tennessee Jim. He was sitting with his back arched over the keyboard, his jaw tight. His left hand was propped up on his position and his left thumb was nervously caressing his microphone on/off button.
        Quickly, I turned back to the window, waiting to see the green glow of afterburners from more inbound fighters. I didn’t realize it right then, but I was nervously tapping at my microphone button too. Then just as suddenly as I had turned back to the window and the darkness, Captain Sammy brought the Lady around, which left me staring at the still-burning fires of an entire row of destroyed POL tanks.
        I noticed that without Gypsy’s squawk the radios seemed eerily calm. Shadow-2 was quiet. Paladin’s group was busy scouring the skies. Gas Station had dropped back to a protective orbit. Phantom had bugged out south. It seemed that we were alone, hanging in the air on a fragile thread. Our only lifeline was our ability to detect the presence of the enemy through communications or visual observation.
        Gravity thrust me into the port window as the Lady turned sharply then leveled out. I saw a barely visible object in the distance that should have been Gas Station, but I called out the location of the traffic just the same. I would make no assumptions. My life and that of my crew depended on it.
        Hugging the paratroop door close, I gradually combed the skies for any signs of activity. Finally, oblivious to the icy cold of the door’s metal, I searched through a turn. The bridge of my nose stung where the frame of my glasses dug in with a vengeance as I pressed the night-vision goggles closer and closer to my face. I caught what appeared to be movement low and distant. “Traffic low and distant at two thirty. Looks like a multiple ship formation.”
        The Nav and the MCC conferred on package egress times—still five minutes to go. “Maintain a close vigil on that movement, Spotter,” tweaked Sammy, “Nav, try to raise Paladin, see if they have those bogies on radios.”
        “Spotter, Pilot, current position on those bogies?”
        I squinted my eyes to the distance to ensure that what I was looking at still seemed to be moving. “Pilot, Spotter, low to the deck at two o’clock moving to twelve. Looks like a three-ship.”
        Suddenly, split-second decisions were being made. Paladin Leader was getting no response from his inquiries. Tennessee Jim’s first reaction was to throw the system into jam; if the approaching group were enemy aircraft, we’d be knocking out their communications. If they were friendly we’d be ensuring their safe egress.
        After quick consultation with Shadow-2, Captain Willie’s crew opted to bug out.
        “Roger, Shadow-2,” Chris replied, “there is no reason we should give them two easy targets. Have a safe trip home.”
        “We wish you luck, Shadow-1. Shadow-2, out.”
        It came our time to make the decision to stay or go. A two-ship of Eagles moved into a guarded stance. A second two-ship continued MiG Sweep, preparing to engage the approaching bogies if necessary. Still, without Gypsy, no one would have blamed us for bugging out or backing off orbit to a safe distance. If we backed off with package egress so close, it would be the same thing as bugging out.
        We knew Gypsy was gone and Shadow-2 was heading home. We couldn’t forget that the package was still in-country. We couldn’t leave them.
        “Crew, MCC, I want to see thumbs. Stay on orbit or go, now which is it?”
        As a crew, we’d either opt to stay on orbit or return to base. Happy and I voiced, “We’ll stay!” not moving from our positions.
        I could