Chapter 34: Attack and Retaliation

"Tib, I've got something on the threat panel here that doesn't look right. It shows a flight of six fast movers coming in on a heading right for us. They're south of the border but given their speed, they'll be here in ten minutes," Chuck reported.

"Ident?"

"Just like those F-18s we saw earlier. Coming fast!"

"Scramble! Scramble! All craft up, now... NOW! Follow my heading!" Tib spoke quickly into the command link.

"Michael! Fire up your threat board. We've got bogies inbound. Six indicated, ten minutes ETA."

"On it. Flight, use diamond pattern. Tib, you lead. Stagger altitude, five hundred feet separation. Prepare to meet and greet, but spread to engage if they break into teams. Go, go, go!"

The four Interdictor class craft rose as one body and darted away from the just-disembarked groups of Washington Guard people.

"Michael! What the hell is happening?" General Mikelsen's voice came over Michael's radio.

"We've got fast-moving bogies, incoming, from the south. We're moving to intercept. Clear the channel, General. We've got our hands full."

"But ... this is Canada! They can't attack Canada!"

"You tell them that, General. I don't think they're stopping at the border! Talk to me later. Interdictor One, clear."

"Interdictor flight, listen up. Use lidar-controlled zone defense lasers to smoke their missiles. Target their missiles and dropped or guided weapons only! Do not target the aircraft. No deadly force against the aircrews. That's SOP. No variation permissible. Clear? Respond!" Michael ordered.

"Clear ... clear..." the other three craft replied.

"Good! If we can reach them before they release weapons, that's much better. We can't grab them head on ... that's too destructive ... to them, not us. So we meet, pass, and loop tight around to get behind them. Then snag 'em and reel 'em in. We've practiced this! We can do it. There's time!"

"Understood!" Tib replied. Radio clicks confirmed the others.

"Time? I'm displaying a closing rate of 1400 knots; computer shows two minutes. Set your zone defense lasers for auto-engage, large targets ignored. Set the tractor beams for auto-track and grab, soft-target mode. I know you guys are on top of this, so I'm just sayin' ... confirm?" Michael radioed.

"Got it, One! No sweat, here. We'll gather 'em up, wipe their little hineys. We'll tuck 'em all away, real nice and secure!" Chuck retorted.

"Okay. No more chatter. We'll have a lot to talk about when we've got this bunch shut down."

It went better than expected, but with an unusual twist that nobody had time to think about. The six incoming fighter jets crossed the border and dived down to the deck, screaming along at five hundred knots. They never saw the Interdictor flight as it met them, passed overhead and did a scorching turn-around, accelerating to catch and match their speed.

The F-18 flight of six was paired off in three groups, leader and wingman in each of three teams. The lead three Interdictor pilots triggered their tractor beams. The beam control computers spread the gravitron fields just wide enough to enclose each pair. It strengthened the field intensity short of fuselage crush strength and engaged the shuttle's reverse thrusters, slowing them to a near hover. This took less than a minute. The Interdictor/F-18 locked pairs climbed, reversed course, and took a new heading going south, back to the border.

"Think we should talk to them?" Tib asked?

"Yeah, after a few minutes. Let's tow them back to the border so our Canadian radar operator friends can relax a bit when they see the threat is gone," Michael replied. He had flown the 'tail end Charlie' spot in the diamond pattern, above and behind the lead three. He monitored the flight's progress and tapped into the F-18's radio channel. He let the Interdictor e-weps programming evaluate and decrypt the US attack communications.

"Oooo ... they are NOT happy," Michael relayed to his team members. "I'm recording this. You can enjoy it over a drink, later. For the moment, let's just hang loose, while I reach an understanding with them."

"Invading flight, this is Peacemaker Interdictor One. Please respond."

"??"

"Yes, I'm on your encrypted command channel. You can't see me or my squadron, but we've got a pretty firm grip on you, gentlemen. You have probably noticed by now that your aircraft have stopped flying? I'd advise you to shut your engines down, if you haven't already done so. Please, do it, now!"

"!!"

"Now, gentlemen. Do it now. If you'll notice, you are no longer in flight mode. You are being held in a stationary grip, so to speak. Read your flight instruments, especially your airspeed indicators. Your engine thrust is doing nothing to keep you aloft. We're not sure how much longer your engines will remain stable in this mode. It would be a shame if they were to overheat and explode before we could get you safely down. Do you understand?"

"!?"

"Let me explain myself to you gentlemen of the United States Armed Forces. You have violated Canadian territorial airspace. Consider yourselves prisoners of ... a conflict resolution. I certainly hope we are not in a state of war, but you six gentlemen are really pushing the envelope. And you may now consider this an order: shut your engines down, immediately! All of you!"

Michael monitored the F-18 comm channel. After the swearing and shouting settled down, he heard the flight leader tell his group that he would throttle his engines down to see how it affected his aircraft. He did. Nothing changed. His aircraft hovered in place, held tightly in the grip of the invisible beam.

"For being some of America's brightest and best, you guys sure are slow on the uptake, you know that?" Michael razzed them on the radio. "Now, all of you, shut the rest of those damned engines down! You don't want to get us angry with you, do you? You wouldn't like it if we were to get angry, I'm telling you."

"Uhhh ... this is Flight Lead Zulu-Baker Ten-Bravo. You mean to say that ... you guys ... you guys that we can't see ... are doing this shit to us? And you ain't angry, yet?"

"Not even close, Ten-Bravo. Be glad that you guys didn't get close enough to fire those missiles. You would know if we were pissed, and firing those missiles into our civilian settlement would certainly do that."

"Flight Lead to flight group: shut 'em down, guys. I shut mine down and I'm just hangin' here."

"Okay, F-18 Flight ... your compliance is acknowledged and appreciated. Now what would you suggest that we do with those missiles hangin' from your racks? Can you disarm and drop them?"

"Uh ... be advised, UFO leader, that is against SOP."

"Ten-Bravo, is being destroyed in mid-air while hanging stationary with your engines shut down ... is that included in your standard operational procedures?"

"Umm, now that you've clarified the situation for us! Disarm 'em and drop 'em, flight. Jettison all of 'em now. Report when your missile boards show empty."

"Very nice, Ten-Bravo. Now please don't take this as an indicator of mistrust, but are you guys packing any other heat? Cannons? Guns? Anything that we might regard as less than friendly?"

"That's affirm, UFO leader. Standard weapons load includes one 20 mm M61 Vulcan nose mounted 6-barreled Gatling cannon per aircraft, but we won't touch 'em. No other threats. Missiles are gone."

"Very well, gentlemen. Then allow me to welcome you back into Canadian airspace. I'd suggest that you lean back, relax... 'smoke if you got 'em.' We'll mosey over to Penticton to set us all down. We'll have a little meet 'n greet once we're on the ground. Oh! One more thing. Should any of you have a John Wayne attitude with your cannon, or a personal pistol, forget it. You'd never fire more than one round, nor pull a pistol clear to point it or fire it. Plus, you'd not enjoy spending the next twenty years in solitary confinement staring at a moon rock. Understood?"

"!!! ^%#%??"

"Good. I thought you'd see our point of view."

"Peacemaker base, Peacemaker Interdictor One."

"Go ahead, Interdictor One."

"Tell Eric we're returning to base, bringing six near neutered hawks, but all is secure."

"Neutered? Did they scream?"

"Not really ... they're too confused to scream. Tell Eric to call somebody, maybe the Defense Minister? Advise that he keep it on the down-low, perhaps? This is gonna raise one hell of a stink, and I'm sure our friend the Prime Minister will have a few choice remarks of an 'international incident' nature to make to our asshole buddy in Washington!"

"Ohhh, boy, I just bet he will! See you when y'all get here. Set 'em down easy, please. We just got the area picked up nice 'n neat. Peacemaker base, clear."

"Roger that. Oh ... advise that all calls should get recorded? We're making history here. We want to be sure it gets in the books accurately. Interdictor One clear."

The six US pilots and eight Interdictor crew sat around a table in the Peacemaker mess hall with coffee and sandwiches scattered around. Bob Zaglinder and the Russians, Pietor and Andrei, sat across the table from the pilots. Everybody but the US pilots were relaxed and at ease. The US pilots seemed a bit unnerved and tense.

"Understandable," Michael chuckled to himself.

"This may seem a patently obvious question, guys ... but I've got to ask," Bob Z led off. "Who sent you guys?"

"My name is Gary Francis Powers, Lt. Commander, US Navy, Serial Number 395-18-47!"