Ghost - Into The Breach Part 25

"You're s.h.i.+tting me,"Randolph said, chuckling. "Maybe I ought to strap-hang."

"Well, if youdo you'll have to find your own way back or stay in-country for a couple of weeks," Pierson sighed. "Air Force isreally tasked out. The Bravo company commander will be given further orders but those are code-word cla.s.sified. The mission may entail engagements but it is not believed that the risks on the operation will be high."

"I just hope we're not helping the Georgians beat up on the Ossetians," the commander said. "That's pretty much an internal matter, Colonel."

"The area they are going to has some threat from theChechens but is outside the Ossetian area," the Pentagon weenie replied. "And the orders are from higher so who cares? Ours but to do or die and all that. This is only an advisory. But please recall your personnel at this time; we're getting on short time for this."

"Will do," Lt. Colonel Randolph said and finally looked at the monitor. To his surprise the Pentagon weenie was looking at him out of it.

"Tell them good luck and good hunting," Colonel Pierson replied. Then the monitor went dead.

Kacey put down the -1 for the Czech Aeroframe Corporation Hind-J "aerial ambulance" and rubbed her eyes. -1s werethe manual for an aircraft discussing not only design and engineering but flying characteristics. They were the pilot's Bible and she and Tamara had been doing their best, with a lot of a.s.sistance, to practically memorize them.

That Kildar character hadn't been joking about "cramming." The Czech instructors were being paid to shove as much knowledge of the Hind-J into them in as short a time as humanly possible. And her head was about to explode.

The J variant was significantly different than the D variant they'd flown lo these many years ago. It had an additional super-charger on each engine for high-alt.i.tude operations, an oxygen system, pressurized flight and crew compartment and various other bells and whistles. It also had replaced a lot of parts with composites, reducing its base weight a good bit. But what was seriously different were the engines, modified Bells built by the Czechs on contract that were 30% more powerful than the originals while being a tad lighter and smaller. That was good, in general, since the Hind-D was a bit of a pig in the air.

Essentially, it was an entirely new aircraft as capable as or more capable than the newer Russian M-35.

But that also meant the aircraft had different flight characteristics. The ground training portion of the transition was about over. Since the one thing the Czechs did not seem to have was a good simulator for the craft they were going to be taking their first "familiarization" flights tomorrow. And she didn't want her eyes bleary for that.

But she had one thing to do before she went to bed.

The Kildar had, as promised, supplied them with a satellite phone. It was a desk-top model, sort of bulky but capable of not just telephone connection but video and a limited internet pipe. For that matter, there was a whole set of controls that had something to do with a scrambler. Where the "Kildar" had gotten military grade scramblers she wasn't going to ask, but given their mission it wasn't too weird.

She didn't need any of that, though, all she needed was the phone.

"Calling Chief D'Allaird finally?" Tammie asked, setting down her own -1.

"About that time," Kacey said, dialing the number she'd finally managed to find in her address book.

"Hopefully he hasn't already left for work."

"Hopefully he'sawake ," Tammie pointed out.

Kacey listened to the phone ring then pick up.

"837-4159. How may I help you sir or ma'am?"

d.a.m.n. Good to see some things hadn't changed.

"Mr. Timothy D'Allaird? This is Air Force Bureau of Personnel. This is to inform you that you've been selected for a recall tour to points in the AOR. Further information will be arriving by mail at your home of record. Are you still resident at..."

"Kacey, is that you?" the voice said. "G.o.d, d.a.m.n, girl you almost gave me a heart-attack!"

"Hi, Chief," Kacey said, grinning. "How they hangin?"

"Still one below the other," D'Allaird said. "To what do I owe the honor of a call from Miss Snot-nose?"

"Oh, all sorts of reasons," Kacey said. "So, how's the wife?"

"Divorced these last two years," D'Allaird said. "Which is why I'm working about sixty hours of overtime a week. You'll understand if I need to get ready for work. I'm with that comedian guy; next time I think about getting married I'll just buy a house for some woman I can't stand."

"Why aren't you contracting?" Kacey said, quizzically.

"I gotreally tired of the sandbox," D'Allaird said. "Tired enough I'm willing to worklots of hours to avoid it. I keep asking..."

"Business call, honestly," Kacey finally admitted. "I know someone who needs a contractor. Aircraft engineer.Not in the sandbox. But I'll also be up-front that whoever takes the job has to be Hind qualified and aware that it may involve getting their a.s.s shot off. The flip side is that the money is good and so are the conditions."

"Where?" D'Allaird asked.

"You did hear the part about getting your a.s.s shot off, right?" Kacey asked.

"And let me guess who's flying the bird: the Bobsie Twins."

"The same," Kacey admitted.

"Well, now Igot to go," D'Allaird admitted. "If for no other reason than to keep you two out of trouble. I mean, does this placehave a brig?"

"Hey, we weren't going to go to thebrig over that," Kacey said.

"Yes we were," Tammie replied, not looking up from her manual.

"The most was going to happen was off flying status for a while," Kacey protested.

"Tammie doesn't think so," D'Allaird said. "And I keep asking..."

"The country ofGeorgia ," Kacey replied. "Out in the boonies but nice facilities. A general contractor. I have the feeling it's a good idea to keep a bag packed. I'm not sure of the pay for you, but they're paying us great and we said we had to have a chief, a good one. We actually need two. We may be flying solos.

And it's Hind Js."

"The new Czech bird," D'Allaird said with a whistle. "Sweet. I've been reading up on the specs. I'm in.

I've been wanting to get my hands on one of those. Screw these d.a.m.ned Lynx and Rangers, I'm sick to death of Lynx and Rangers."

"Hope you've got a pa.s.sport," Kacey said. "I'll have somebody contact you about travel arrangements.

And keep an eye out for another body."

"Male or female?" D'Allaird asked.

"Makes no diff," Kacey said. "The guy who's hiring us, a Mr. Jenkins also called 'The Kildar', doesn't seem to care. But who ever it is had better be open-minded. The arrangements are kind of...odd."

"Better and better," D'Allaird said. "I'm tired as h.e.l.l of same old. I'll be waiting for the call."

"See you soon, chief," Kacey said, cutting the connection.

"Another lamb to the slaughter," Tammie said. "This thing is either sweet as h.e.l.l or the Czechs let their marketing department write the -1."

"Marketing departmentsalways write the -1s," Kacey said. "Tomorrow we just get to find out if it's an honest marketing department."

"Power up, softly, softly..."

Kacey didn't know if the Czechs had intentionally supplied one cute as h.e.l.l instructor pilot or not, but Marek Kalenda was hot. Older than she usually liked, probably pus.h.i.+ng a very in-shape fifty, but still hot.

Nice voice, too. Resonant. Of course, it would help if she paid attention to flying.

"Good, hold it," Marek said. "Feel her. Nice isn't she?"

"I'm only at 23% power," Kacey replied. "This thing is, if anything,over muscled."

"There is no such thing as too much power in a helicopter," Marek said. "I was asked when they were looking at the new Bells if, perhaps, that was not too much power for the Hind. No, I told them. What is that American show, the man is always saying 'More power!'?"

"Home Improvement," Kacey said with an unseen grin. The Hind, unlike Hueys and Hawks, was a tandem rig. The pilot sat back, the co or gunner sat forward. Currently, Marek was forward. "Tim Allen."

"Yes, More Power," Marek agreed. "That was also a command. Bring her out of ground hover if you please. Slowly."

Kacey poured on more power without disturbing any of the other controls. She, of course, had to tap the rear-rotor controls to keep the aircraft straight, but otherwise she kept it "as is" with the exception of power. The helicopter went straight up with only a slight side-to-side yaw as she got the feel for the rear rotor.

"Very nice," Kacey said. "I'm at forty percent. And out of ground effect, unless I'm much mistaken."

"Yes, but of course we are empty," Marek pointed out. "At height, with a full load? You will be pus.h.i.+ng the red-line. But I will tell you something that is not in the -1, yes? I have force tested this bird and engines. The red-line on the engines is conservative. You have about twenty percent more power when you are red. But you must yank the engines after the mission, yes?"

"Twenty percent's a lot of power," Kacey said. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because we have some customers who, shall we say, are not as professional as you," Marek said with a sigh. "If some son of an Arab sheik goes down we like to be able to point out that he was not supposed to redline the aircraft's engine continually. Better still if he has the smidgeon of sense to only touch the redline and still survive. At absolute full power the engineswill eventually fail. But for an emergency...the power is there."

"Good to know," Kacey said.

"Now that we have taken this time for you to feel the birdand prove you can talk at the same time, you may push forward slightly on the stick. Your bird, ma'am."

"My bird," Kacey replied, pus.h.i.+ng forward on the stick and increasing power to the engines unconsciously. She started to grin as the bird slid forward like it was on greased rails and lifted into the air. The ma.s.s of the Hind had always made it fly like a pig and they usually didn't hover for s.h.i.+t. Now, with the overpowered engines, it was like driving areally nice sports car, one of the ones that hugged the road like a limpet. Smooth didn't begin to describe it. "Oh. My. G.o.d."

"I thought you would like this, yes," Marek said with obvious satisfaction in his voice. "We at Czech Airframeslike satisfied customers. Satisfied customers are repeat customers."

"Oh, I'm satisfied," Kacey said. "This bird canfly ."

Chapter Nineteen.

"USAF Flight 1157," Second Lt. Kevin Ferlazzo said when the "incoming satellite call" light started blinking on his console.

USAF Flight 1157 was a MC-130 Special Operations (Electronic) aircraft from the 47thSquadron out of Moody Air Force Base inValdosta,Georgia . 1157, crew of five, was currently on a compa.s.sionate mission delivering relief supplies to Azerbaijan, motoring along on cruise control over the nation of Ukraine, which from 30,000 feet lookeda lot like Kansas. A recent earthquake had left dozens of mountain villages inAzerbaijan devastated and cut off with winter on-coming. About half of the cargo consisted of cattle feed donated by the American Cattleman's a.s.sociation. The rest was general relief supplies including MRE style "relief meals", tents, blankets and clothing.

Lt. Ferlazzo, the flight engineer of the aircraft (and as he thought of it "designated receptionist"), hadn't planned on becoming a relief worker when he'd graduated from the United States Air Force Academy and wondered about the efficiency of using a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art, special operations, electronics warfare aircraft that cost $8000 per hour to run to deliver hay-bales. However, n.o.body but n.o.body asked a second lieutenant what he thought except his mother.

"1157, this is Four-Seven Actual. Put the 1157 Actual on. Then get off."

"Roger, sir," Lt. Ferlazzo said, hitting the hold b.u.t.ton and switching to intercom. "Pilot, Four-Seven Actual wants you." He didn't ask the pilot if he wanted to take the call. Unless you're in the bird's p.i.s.ser or a declared emergency, if the squadron commander calls you say "Yes, sir!" and pick up the horn.

Captain Richard C. "Casey" Moore sat up out of his half doze and looked at the co quizzically. "Okay, what did you do now?"

Casey Moore was 26, brown of hair and eye, just below medium height with "an erect carriage and firm demeanor." Said so right on his Officer Evaluation Reports. That's because his various squadron commanders hadn't wanted to say "who is a wise-a.s.s that likes to tease PJs until an incident occurs."

Among other things, he was one h.e.l.l of a C-130 driver and it wasn't like anybody ever gothurt .

Without waiting for an answer he hit the accept b.u.t.ton. "1157 Actual."

"1157 Actual, Squadron Actual," the squadron commander replied. "Divert Tbilisi Military Airfield for refueling and pick-up of quote Friendly Nation relief workers end quote. Coordinate with military attache, United States Emba.s.sy,Georgia , Colonel Randolph Mandrell. Transport of relief workers cla.s.sified Top Secret Ribbon Blade. Obtain vocal orders Colonel Mandrell re Operation Ribbon Blade.

Colonel Mandrell has full operational control 1157 in re Ribbon Blade. Do you copy?"

Casey blinked for a just a second and then stared at the winds.h.i.+eld as if looking for divine aid.

"Four-Seven Actual, 1157. Copy divert Tbilisi Military Airfield, contact Georgian mil attache, Colonel Mandrell re pick up of Friendly Nation quote aid workers end quote. Pick up cla.s.sified Ribbon Blade.

Operational details via mil attache. Mil attache has operational control. Verification code, over?" He easily recognized the squadron commander's voice and the orders were coming over an encrypted satellite link. But he also knew that if he didn't verify Four-Seven Actual, who was a real p.r.i.c.k, would jump his a.s.s.

"Verification, code Four-Delta-Five-Niner."

"Ferz," Casey said, hitting the hold b.u.t.ton. "I need a verification on order changes, Four-Delta-Five-Niner."

"Yeah, confirm," Ferlazzo said after a moment. "It's an updated code."

"Four-Seven Actual, 1157. Verification confirmed. Diverting to Tbilisi at this time."

"Roger, out."

"We're goingwhere ?" the co-pilot asked. Captain Jim Sanderson was a regular co-pilot for Casey but not because Casey trusted his driving. Quite the opposite. In fact, he sometimes suspected that Casey dragged him around the world on one weird-a.s.sed mission after another purely to take his monthly pay at poker.

And in that he would be right. He also was a great p.a.w.n to use in Casey's ongoing low-level war with the entire Para-Jumper corps. When Casey knew they were hunting a hostage, say because somebody had casually walked off with one of their d.a.m.ned gnomes, he could usually arrange for the co to be in the "wrong place at the wrong time" to get picked off by the PJs. h.e.l.l of a lot better than giving up his nav.

The 47thwas a "multi-mission" squadron. They had a variety of transport aircraft ranging from Beavers to C-17s with multiple variants and a group of pilots that were just as eclectic. Most of the pilots were cross-trained in special operations missions, however the squadron, since it wasn't a dedicated special ops squadron, tended to do mostly grunt hauling work. But because it wasn't listed as a primary trash-hauler squadron they weren't first on the list for that, either. In fact, in the increasingly overtasked cargo aircraft field, it was the one squadron that had a relatively low operational tempo. That meant, however, that the pilots could get more training on more different missions than most of the overtasked squadrons. Even the spec-ops squadrons had a hard time digging up HALO drop qualified crews; the 47thhad seven including Flight 1157.

"Tbilisi," the navigator said. Captain Ca.s.sandra "Ca.s.sie" Phillips could have been Casey's sister. 5' 5", brown of hair and eye, there was even a slight facial resemblance. But features that were handsome on Casey came out as beautiful on Ca.s.sie. "Capital of the country ofGeorgia . It's not far off our flight-path anyway. If we hadn't tanked inKiev we'd have had to land there and tank. Come to heading one-three-zero. Tbilisi Military Control is on frequency 1957. Notation says that it's closed to unauthorized birds, though and 'limited English.'"

"Oh, joy," Casey said. "Co, freq."

"Roger," Bill said, leaning forward to switch the radios.